Fated Chapter 3
Title Fated
Author: deadoralive0013
Pairing: Ryden
Rating: PG13
POV: 3rd
Summary: Ryan has a gift. He's able to see the future only, he couldn't control when. As he worked as a fortune teller, he made up lies to tell people, not really expecting to get a real vision. But one night, he met an annoying young businessman and Ryan's world will never be the same again. Not even the one who saw can fight fate itself.
Excerpt for this chapter:
Ryan snapped out of his daze. It took a few moments before he realized his right hand was holding his left wrist so tightly, his nails were digging in to the skin. He was breathing heavily again and the migraine attack was slowly kicking in. What the fuck was that?
“Brendon,” he muttered unconsciously and he found himself standing up and walking out of the coffee shop. As soon as he stepped out, his head pounded painfully but a familiar red car drove by and fuck, this can’t be happening. “It’s going to happen.”
Warnings: un-everything, a product of a sudden inspiration surge
Beta: Chai phoenix_vixen
Disclaimer: I own the plot but nothing else...
Note: At the end of the chapter
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3
“What will this prove again?” Jon asked staring at the numbers on the paper.
Brendon was sitting on Jon’s living room couch tapping lightly on the wooden coffee table and pretending to not look. Jon sighed loudly and the other turned to his direction with an equally annoyed look.
“I already told you, just pick a number and I’ll be out of your hair,” Brendon said.
Jon frowned at him and then at the paper. “One to ninety-nine. Bren, I’m sure I can count one to ninety-one just fine.”
Brendon rolled his eyes. “I need you to mark it. With ink. Can you get on with it already please?”
“Spencer’s told me about the prediction coming true,” Jon began as he uncapped his pen and scanned the paper for a number. “You know, he could just get lucky again.”
“Right. It is very likely that he’ll get lucky twice in a row,” Brendon said.
“Yup. Very possible,” Jon said as he walked towards Brendon, handing the paper over.
Brendon quickly folded it and tucked it in his coat pocket. “Thanks,” he muttered.
“Aren’t you going to check what number I picked?” Jon asked. “You already heard the prediction right?”
“I don’t want to get over-excited,” he answered offhandedly.
Jon smirked at him before taking a seat. “Then tell me what the numbers are. I want to know if guessed right.”
Brendon rose. “I don’t think so. I’m going to Spencer’s.”
“Oh come on. Tell me. I won’t tell you if he got it right or wrong,” Jon pushed.
Brendon stared at him for a moment. “Fine. He said nine and forty.”
“Holy fucking shit!” Jon exclaimed excitedly and jumped off his couch.
Brendon watched as his friend frantically, practically ran around the place with his hands on his head like a maniac and he wanted to slap Jon in the head because yeah, didn’t he say he won’t tell Brendon?
“I take it that he got yours?” Brendon told him sarcastically.
Jon just bounced around his apartment excitedly and occasionally interjecting ‘fucking shit’. Brendon waited.
“This has got to be,” Jon began and paused, thinking of a word. “I don’t know. Amazing? Freaky? Like those things David Blaine does on the streets?”
“I thought you think he could just get lucky again?” Brendon asked him.
“Well I said so but I didn’t really expect him to actually get it. Aren’t you impressed?” Jon asked, finally recovering from the excitement.
Brendon sighed. He had to admit it was kind of impressive. Well actually, he wanted to join Jon in the moment of craziness he was having earlier but he restrained himself. There’s a good chance that the fortuneteller was really a fortuneteller but he didn’t want to get excited just yet.
“He hasn’t got Spencer’s number right yet.”
“Whatever man. Are you going to Spencer’s now?” Jon asked.
“Yeah. Why?”
Jon quickly grabbed his coat. “I’m coming with you. There’s no way I’m going to miss this.”
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The scene started at a remote seat in the waiting area. She’s wearing her favorite coat, a dark button-down that she bought with her husband on their last trip to Europe. She anxiously checked her watch again and then sighed tiredly. She’s been sitting here for three hours.
The airport was busy. Tourists and businessmen walked around to check in and recheck departure times. It was always like this during the twenty-fourth of December; people rushing in or out of the country because there’s a specific place they wanted to be for Christmas. Like all of them, she also wanted to be in a place. Someone was waiting.
“Our plane leaves at midnight,” he told her and she sighed disappointed.
“I promised him we’ll be home for Christmas,” she said with a voice that suggested she had been waiting to release all her pent up irritation. “Isn’t there anything they could do?”
He leaned forward and placed a chaste kiss on her forehead. “I’m sorry honey. All flights are booked.”
For a moment she didn’t respond. She glared at her watch and then nodded stiffly. “I understand. It’s just that he’s been home alone for a week now. He’s really lonely.”
“I know honey,” he told her as he patted her back comfortingly. “We’ll be there by morning. I’m sure our boy can stand being alone for a few more hours.”
They hugged. He took out his wallet and opened it to reveal a picture of a young boy smiling widely as he ran across someone’s backyard.
Ryan sucked in air noisily as he got up from his bed with a start. He swallowed nervously and wildly looked around his dark apartment. He could feel sweat on his face and on his back sliding down uncomfortably and he sighed, trying to calm himself. It was that damn dream again, he thought.
He pushed the covers away and got up, shaking the images away. He turned the bathroom taps on and hastily splashed his face with the cold water. He had been having the same dream ever since that day. When he was younger, he had it almost every night. The dream bothered him less and less as he grew up until one day - Ryan couldn’t remember - he completely stopped dreaming it.
And tonight he dreamt it again. For years, he was able to sleep peacefully and maybe even got the chance to forget. Why now suddenly?
He shook his head and stared at his reflection. He looked tired. The sudden vision he had the other day had been eating him up for the past few days and now this dream coming back to him. They were foreshadowing something, he was sure of it. Years of being dormant and then both just suddenly coming back in the same week was definitely telling him something and he was scared of what it could be. He closed his eyes and found himself laughing.
What more could he lose?
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“You’re freaking me out,” Spencer said.
Brendon glared at Jon who had his eyes dead set on Spencer and the paper with numbers in his hands.
“Don’t mind him,” Brendon told Spencer. “He’s just excited.”
“Yeah, don’t mind me,” Jon added enthusiastically.
Spencer sighed and turned his gaze on the half-eaten dinner on his table. He had been in the middle of eating it when Brendon and Jon came knocking at his apartment. He knew it could only mean trouble since Brendon disappeared from the office after lunch and never came back and Spencer was sure he could only have been out to hunt the fortuneteller down. Spencer was right.
“What number did Jon choose?” he asked Brendon as he turned to the paper.
“Nine,” Jon answered quickly.
“Did the fortuneteller get it right?”
Brendon nodded. “It’s all up to you now.”
Oh great. Any number from one to ninety-nine except nine. For some reason, Spencer felt a little nervous like he was going to decide for something important. It didn’t help that Jon and Brendon were watching him so anxiously. He took a deep breath and picked the pen up. He could feel the other two watching his hand as he marked the paper.
“Okay done,” Spencer announced and handed Brendon the paper.
This is it, Brendon thought as he held the paper. He cast his gaze down and his eyes went wide.
“Fucking mother fucker!” Jon exclaimed and Brendon winced. The other was apparently looking over his shoulder.
“He got it! He got it!” Jon continued freaking out.
“Did he really?” Spencer asked Brendon.
“He did,” Brendon said and he couldn’t help but smile. As far as he knew, that guy wasn’t a fraud. He really could predict the future.
“Wow,” Spencer said. “We got to ask him... things. We could be rich.”
“I want to know what my boss is hiding and how I can get him sacked,” Jon said dreamily. “The fucker’s been stealing money anyway.”
Spencer and Jon turned to Brendon who was silent. They frowned slightly because hey, this was Brendon. The jumping up and down and loud planning of the future should be done by him.
“What’s wrong?” Jon asked while Spencer listened.
Brendon shook his head. “Nothing. I’m just... happy, that’s all.”
“Well we all are,” Spencer said relieved.
“What are you planning to ask the fortuneteller?” Jon asked with a smile.
“Well, I already told him that if he got this right he’ll be working for me,” Brendon told them and they smirked at him.
“Always ahead of things as always,” Spencer commented. “Better start being nice to him then if you want a personal fortuneteller.”
Right, Brendon thought. The first time they met, he wasn’t exactly nice but it’s a good thing the fortuneteller owed him something. Brendon will surely use that to his advantage.
“I bet Brendon’s going to use him to buy the right stocks from the stock market. Oh God, he could be a billionaire overnight,” Jon added.
“Yeah, yeah,” he muttered and sat on Spencer’s couch. “There’s that and there’s... the other more important thing.”
“Money isn’t the more important thing?” Spencer asked confused.
“Well, remember that thing we were talking about over dinner, the night Jon came home and we met the fortuneteller?”
“Yeah. What about it?” Spencer asked.
“We were talking about...” Jon began trying to remember what their night’s topic was.
“Settling down,” Spencer said finally and Brendon nodded.
“You guys told me that there’s no such thing as a perfect marriage because it’s impossible to meet someone who’s both beautiful and has substance,” Brendon explained. “That may be true but I’m thinking that maybe, if a have a little help from someone who could see the future, I’ll be able to narrow down my search.”
Brendon stared at them expectantly but they were just looking at him with weird smiles. He raised an eyebrow at them and they laughed.
“Aaww... Brendon’s going to hunt his soul mate down!” Jon said jokingly while Spencer shook his head with an amused expression.
“Romantic,” Spencer added after a while.
Brendon sighed and then shrugged. “Laugh all you want but I’m serious. I’m not getting any younger so I have to find her. She’s got to be out there somewhere.”
“You’re twenty-five. That’s hardly old. You said so yourself,” Jon told him. “Why can’t you just enjoy life for now and worry about growing old a few years later when you actually are getting old.”
Good point, Brendon thought. Really, he didn’t want to settle down anytime soon but the prospect of finding someone for himself was somehow appealing to him. Ever since his brother got married and had kids, Brendon had been thinking when his turn was going to come. Providing for a family, raising kids, and not to mention maintaining a marriage all sounded scary but somehow, Brendon could just feel that whoever this person that he would meet, Brendon will love her so much that he won’t mind being put through any kind of trouble.
“I’m not sure,” he told Jon, still thinking. “I just have a feeling that it’s going to be good, worth it.”
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Several days passed by and Brendon cursed at his computer again and again. He had been getting a lot of paperwork but he managed to finish them on time so it wasn’t work that pissed him off. The day after Jon and Spencer gave him the numbers, Brendon went out on his lunch break to drive to that park where the fortuneteller’s tent was. He skipped stopping by for some fast food takeout and rushed his way to the tent, only to find it empty and abandoned. The round table was there but all other things were missing.
Brendon had thought that he just missed the fortuneteller, that he was maybe having one of those migraine attacks but he was wrong. He came back the following day to the empty tent to find it still empty. Brendon kept on coming back desperately hoping to see the fortuneteller again but he failed. On the sixth day, he emerged from the tent disappointed and feeling angry.
How can he do that? Brendon had an agreement with him and he ran away! Brendon had sensed on their last meeting that the fortuneteller was hiding something. He had told Brendon that he was a fraud and apparently he was not. Why would he do that? No matter which way Brendon looked at it, the guy could benefit from Brendon believing his predictions because then he’ll be receiving paychecks. Brendon had promised him so. It didn’t make sense that he would run away just like that.
Maybe he was in trouble, on the run from the mafia or something. Didn’t traveling performers, prostitutes, gypsies, whatever the fuck they were, deal with those kinds of people all the time? Brendon had seen it in movies and this fortuneteller might be living the exact kind of life.
But what if he wasn’t? Then that would mean he was gone because of Brendon and the same questions arise. Brendon didn’t know much about the guy but he could tell he’s having a rough time. He’s so thin and the way he spoke to Brendon on that first night, like he was all indignant and defensive, gave him the impression that he had to deal with people insulting him all the time.
He had thought of looking for this kid but Brendon remembered that he didn’t have a name. How can he meet him twice and not bother asking for a name? So instead, he went around asking people in the park about a thin young man who worked as a fortuneteller.
“There are a lot fortunetellers who come here,” the park security guard had told him when Brendon went there on one of his lunch breaks yet again. “Don’t you have a picture of him?”
“No,” Brendon said. “He... has sandy-brown hair though. About a couple of centimeters taller than me and, uh, wears makeup.”
The security guard’s face twisted a little as though trying to remember something and then his eyes went wide. “You mean that boy who looks like a girl?”
Come to think of it, the fortuneteller did look like a girl. Soft features, delicate hands, full pink lips... If it wasn’t for his voice and the obvious lack of breasts, Brendon could have mistaken him for a girl.
“Uh... yeah,” Brendon muttered awkwardly.
“Yeah, I’ve seen him. Talked to him once or twice,” the guard said nodding. “Nice kid, always polite. I never had any troubles because of him, unlike those clowns and mimes who come here to chase tourists. I told him to keep his tent out of the way though and he said yes. Very nice kid.”
Brendon was taken aback. The boy was anything but nice during those two times Brendon had the chance to meet him. Then again, that might have something to do with the way Brendon had made fun of him. “So uh, what’s his name?”
The security guard’s eyes narrowed and scrutinized Brendon from head to foot. “Why?” he asked sharply.
Brendon laughed nervously. “I... We had a deal and-”
“He’s a fortuneteller, not a prostitute,” he said suddenly. “Get away from him and find yourself a real whore.”
“What? No! I’m not like that!” Brendon said scandalized.
“You look too young to be a pimp though... or are you?” the guard added stubbornly.
Brendon sighed and ran his fingers through his hair. “Look, I met him twice and he has been giving me correct predictions. I just want get my fortune told.”
The guard stared at him and Brendon stared back determinedly. Seriously. So the boy might be nice as this stupid guard kept on saying but Brendon wasn’t the one putting up illegal tents in public parks. The guard’s eyes were still narrowed with suspicion but finally nodded.
“I got him arrested him months ago. He said he was new here and he set up a tent near the west gate not knowing it wasn’t allowed. First and last violation he did,” the guard began as though the incident happened just yesterday. “He had no records of any sort. No police file, no ID, no anything. He told me he changed his name quite frequently and I didn’t ask why. I figured with his kind of lifestyle, he’d be avoiding some people. Right now, he told me he’s called Ryan.”
“Ryan,” Brendon repeated. He had expected something like ‘Mystic Moon’ or ‘Harry Potter’. “Do you know where I can find him? An address maybe?
The guard shook his head. “Last I saw him was a week ago. He came to get his things, not even wearing his makeup anymore. I told him I’ll be keeping his tent in its place just in case he changes his mind but he said he won’t be coming back.”
Brendon’s stomach sank. The disappointment somehow felt a lot worse than he would have imagined it. He ignored it. “Thanks. I’ll try looking for him in some other place.”
“You’re wasting you time. A person like Ryan, you won’t find him if he doesn’t want to be found.”
This man should really know when to shut up, Brendon had thought but as it turned out, the security guy was right. A few more days passed and there wasn’t a single sighting of Ryan. A few times Brendon thought he saw a hint of wavy brown hair and did a double take, ran and one time grabbed the arm of the person, only to be disappointed when he realized he made a mistake.
Jon and Spencer had been supportive about it. They helped Brendon inquire in different police stations in the city and they would sometimes call him when they happen to visit other public parks. They did searches on the internet but there were too many search results containing ‘Ryan Seacrest’ and they gave up after a few days. There were too many Ryan’s in the world.
So a couple of months later as Brendon walked into a coffee shop near his office building to get coffee to go, he didn’t expect to see the Ryan he was looking for. In one of those small tables at the remotest part of the wide shop, Ryan was sitting alone with a steamy cup in front of him while his full attention was focused on an open book he held with one hand. His eyebrows were slightly wrinkled in concentration and Brendon couldn’t believe this was the same guy who told him to put his money on that computer company. If Brendon hadn’t met him before, Ryan could pass for an ordinary college student and yes, Brendon thought, Ryan really did look somewhat effeminate. Brendon’s stomach twisted weirdly and he blamed it on not having any breakfast.
Quickly, Brendon paid for his coffee and carefully made his way to the boy. Ryan obliviously continued reading and Brendon took the chance to get closer and closer. Who knew where he’ll disappear to again if he found out that Brendon was here?
“Is it any good?” Brendon asked when he was standing right behind Ryan. The other’s shoulders visibly stiffened before he slowly turned to face Brendon.
“Fuck,” Ryan muttered and quickly rose but Brendon was faster than him. He put both his hands on Ryan’s shoulders and pushed him back down to sit. Brendon smiled at him sweetly as he joined Ryan in the table while the other shook his head like the world was being cruel to him.
“So I’m right. You have been avoiding me,” Brendon said.
Ryan flinched before recovering. “Do I know you?”
Brendon sneered at him. “How rude of you. Is that how you treat your boyfriend, Ryan?” he said loudly and the people from the nearby table cast them disapproving looks. “Don’t even think that you can play dumb with me.”
Ryan’s eyes went wide. “Will you shut up?” he hissed, covering his face with his book. “And how the hell did you find out about my name?”
“You shut up. I get to ask the questions,” Brendon snapped and Ryan glared at him. “We can begin by me asking why you are so bent on getting rid of me and you answering... now.”
Ryan rolled his eyes at Brendon who was unblinkingly staring at him, waiting for a response. “I wasn’t-”
“BBbzzzzzttt...” Brendon interrupted. “Wrong answer. Try again.”
That was when Ryan suddenly rose and Brendon grabbed both of his wrists and pulled him down. Ryan glared at him but he didn’t release his arms, just gripping them more tightly. “No running,” he told Ryan.
The other sighed deeply and glared at everything that was in sight. He wouldn’t meet Brendon’s eyes though and that caught Brendon’s attention. “Are you gay?” he asked suddenly.
The look of mixed disbelief and hate on Ryan’s face almost made Brendon release his grip on the other’s wrists. Ryan sighed and averted his gaze to the side. “I am not gay,” he said monotonously.
“Then why won’t you look me in the eyes?”
“Because you annoy me.”
“We have a deal.”
“I don’t remember making a deal.”
“Of course you do. Remember our own lottery?” Brendon asked.
Yes, Ryan thought but he wouldn’t say that out loud. He didn’t want to humor this guy anymore. “You’re hurting my arms.”
“The two numbers Jon and Spencer picked, they’re exactly the ones you predicted,” Brendon said ignoring him.
Ryan couldn’t help but be shocked. Again. “What?”
“I said your prediction came true again,” Brendon explained.
That’s impossible. Ryan picked those numbers out of the blue. He didn’t think nor even try to get them right. Something was seriously wrong. He managed to glare right back at Brendon’s eyes because yeah, it was this guy’s fault. Ryan’s gift was somehow reacting to this stupid person and Ryan didn’t like it one bit.
In the past, he had seen quite a number of visions. What Ryan had learned was that after had seen one, he’d start to have migraine attacks and suffer from the pain until he saw his vision come true right in front of him. He had seen all sorts of things happening to people from merely passing an exam while he was in school, to people getting themselves killed while eating out. He was sort of used to it by now and was relieved that the visions weren’t bothering him anymore, well, until Brendon came. This time though, Ryan hadn’t experienced a single migraine attack since that one he got right after the vision about Brendon and himself. It had to mean something. It always did.
“Judging from your reaction, you didn’t expect getting it right again,” Brendon said and snapped him out of his thoughts.
“That’s because I guessed,” Ryan said. “I didn’t see this happening at all.”
Brendon glanced at Ryan’s arms on the table and then at his serious face. He looked really different without the makeup. “So you just got lucky. Again. Do you get lucky this often, Ryan?”
Ryan pulled at his arms but the other didn’t let go. “I swear, this is all a mistake. Stop bothering me, please. This may all seem like I’m psychic but really, I’m not. I don’t know how but I just happened to get the numbers right.”
“Great luck you have then,” Brendon said sarcastically.
“Maybe,” Ryan agreed seriously and Brendon raised an eyebrow. This was getting ridiculous.
“Look, just because a guy won the lottery doesn’t mean he’s psychic. Around the world, one or two persons get the right combination once in a while. Normal people. You don’t need psychic abilities to do that because you know what? It happens. People get lucky. They just do and sometimes... at the most unexpected times,” Ryan finished awkwardly.
Brendon wasn’t convinced that Ryan was just lucky but he found himself slowly loosening his grip on the other’s wrists and finally letting go. Ryan withdrew his arms back and flexed his wrists a little.
“You... I... This is crazy,” Brendon said. He couldn’t think of anything to say to express how confused he was. He needed Ryan damnit! Brendon needed to find his girl and Ryan was going to help him. “I really... need your help. I’m desperate.”
It could have been the dim lighting of the coffee shop or the twisting in his stomach that started again at that moment because he didn’t have breakfast but Brendon was sure Ryan’s expression softened when he heard those words. For a moment, Ryan looked like he was going to say ‘yes, I’m psychic’ and then offer to help Brendon but then he changed, looking somewhat sad and tired, almost... guilty.
“I’m sorry. I cannot help you,” Ryan muttered softly.
He is psychic, Brendon thought. He just didn’t want to help Brendon that’s all. The questions, the arguments, the fucking desperation were still there but Brendon found himself nodding. Ryan was complicated. Putting money on the table wouldn’t do any good so Brendon didn’t even try. Something was holding Ryan back, he was sure of it.
Ryan watched as Brendon slowly got up and stiffly reached for his coffee. His shoulders were hunched in an obvious disappointment as he gave Ryan a quick nod before walking to the coffee shop’s door. Ryan couldn’t believe Brendon had finally given up but what he couldn’t believe more was how shitty turning him down made Ryan felt. He tore his eyes away Brendon’s back and sat back down to grab his book. He should be relieved, not feeling guilty.
Unconsciously, he reached for the coffee and took a sip hoping to find some peace. He paused enjoying the warmth of it in his body, vaguely thinking that yes, he was really lucky. Earlier, Ryan was walking outside and passed by this coffee shop when he spotted a piece of crumpled paper on the sidewalk. He bent down, picked it up and was surprised to find that he was actually holding a fifty. He smoothed it out and the smell of coffee invited him in the shop. It had been weeks since he had coffee so he wasn’t about to let the opportunity pass. After he got his coffee, Ryan spotted a book quietly lying on the wooden table at the far end of the shop. He waited but after almost ten minutes with no one claiming it, Ryan gingerly walked to the table, sat and opened the book.
This was just too deliberate. Ryan felt angry that somehow, everything that happened to him that morning was meant to happen so that he’d sit there and wait for Brendon to see him. He was tired of being led, of seeing. He was tired of the future and he hated his gift more.
“What do you want from me now?” Ryan muttered to himself and covered his face with both hands. “What?”
Suddenly, Ryan was no longer in the dim coffee shop. A busy street. Too many cars, people, traffic light. A red car, speeding. Traffic. A young man. Brendon. He was walking, holding his coffee. A biker zoomed past him knocking it off his hand. Brendon cursed. He was crossing the street. A boy was playing with a soccer ball at the other end. The red car. Brendon walked past the boy. He didn’t see the red car. It was speeding towards him. A loud crash. People, lots of them. They were crowding around his body. Blood. Brendon’s face. Dead.
Ryan snapped out of his daze. It took a few moments before he realized his right hand was holding his left wrist so tightly, his nails were digging in to the skin. He was breathing heavily again and the migraine attack was slowly kicking in. What the fuck was that?
“Brendon,” he muttered unconsciously and he found himself standing up and walking out of the coffee shop. As soon as he stepped out, his head pounded painfully but a familiar red car drove by and fuck, this can’t be happening. “It’s going to happen.”
He ran, wildly looking around searching for the things he saw in his vision while he ignored his headache. Ryan clutched his temple as he went, desperately trying to find which way Brendon went. He had walked a couple of blocks from the coffee shop without success and he could feel fear and panic rising up to his throat. He felt like throwing up. His hands were cold as he pushed himself forward, mind blank except for the steady stream of cursing.
“Fuck!”
Ryan heard Brendon’s voice somewhere behind him and as he turned to the direction of the source, a familiar bike zoomed past him. He broke into a run, his head starting to pound like it’s going to break open. Ryan ignored it though he didn’t know how much more of it he could take. He was panting and paused a moment to catch his breath when he finally saw Brendon crossing the street several meters away from him. Ryan automatically gazed at the end of the pedestrian lane and sure enough, the kid was there playing with his soccer ball.
“No,” Ryan muttered and he forced himself to move. He broke into a run but Brendon kept on walking. “Brendon!”
The noisy street and the distance between them masked Ryan’s voice. His head felt like it was breaking open and his chest was tight with pain but he kept moving. Brendon had already reached the end of the pedestrian lane and by the time Ryan was about to cross it, the traffic light turned green. The traffic resumed.
“You have got to be kidding me,” Ryan muttered as he watched the vehicles zoom in hazy blurs in front of him while Brendon walked closer and closer to his doom. “Fuck it,” Ryan muttered before starting run across the street.
Loud honks, beeps and curse words were thrown at him but Ryan ignored them all, not stopping once even when he saw a delivery truck coming. His tired legs moved on their own and Ryan miraculously managed to reach the gutter without a scratch. Brendon had just walked past the boy with the soccer ball and Ryan could see the red car coming in top speed.
“Brendon!” he called but the fucker was deaf.
Cursing loudly, Ryan pushed himself yet again. He glanced at the road and saw the red car moving closer. “Brendon!” he tried again. Fucking, deaf!
It was going to happen. Everything Ryan was seeing was the replica of his vision. Brendon was a couple of feet ahead of him. Ryan’s head was killing him and he felt like he was about to collapse. Really, he could just let Brendon walk to his doom and everything will finally end but still he found himself running, using up the last of his stored.
“Brendon!”
And then finally, fucking finally, Brendon stopped. Ryan’s stomach sank as he realized that the other was standing exactly where the car was going to crash. He ran, faster than he had ever done so in his life, the red haze at his right coming closer and closer.
Brendon was surprised to see Ryan running towards him looking like he just ran a mile. He smirked. “Change of heart-?”
The force of the impact was enough to knock the wind out of Brendon and he was falling a few feet from where he was standing with Ryan firmly holding him. Right before his back painfully collided with the solid pavement, Brendon distinctly heard a loud crashing sound followed by glass shattering and loud screams.
His vision was hazy and his back ached. There was a weight on top of him and it took a few seconds before his vision cleared. Ryan’s face was a few inches from his, looking flushed and breathing heavily. He was glaring at him but relief was also evident in his face.
“Fucking deaf,” Ryan muttered breathily before getting off of him.
Brendon hastily got up. A deformed red car had slammed against a classy boutique and people were running everywhere in mixed panic and excitement. He cast a look at Ryan and found him leaning against a post still breathing heavily with eyes closed.
“Did you just... save my life?” he blurted out.
Ryan looked up at him for a moment but didn’t say anything. The migraine was wearing off. Brendon should be okay now.
“Hey!” Brendon called as Ryan started to walk away. He caught up with him easily and grabbed an arm.
“What?” Ryan asked tiredly.
“That wasn’t out of luck or chance,” Brendon said accusingly. “You saw it. You knew I was going to get hit by that car so you followed me.”
Ryan felt tired but anger was starting to take over. “So what if I did? You’re alive! Can’t you just be fucking thankful and stop with the psychic crap already?”
Brendon bit his lip and nodded. “Sorry. I didn’t mean it to sound that way.”
Ryan nodded at him and resumed walking. His migraine was gone but his legs were killing him with each step.
“I owe you my life,” Brendon said and Ryan froze but did not look back. “Thank you.”
This time, Ryan spared him a glance back and Brendon might be seeing the tiniest hint of smile. “Don’t mention it.”
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NOTES:
I really have nothing to say... except I’m back at univ. It sucks big time and I want to break something... T__T
Anyway, it seems like my mind just can’t help but come up with cheesy clichés nowadays so sorry for that. Writing things about visions and predictions coming true are fun though so hope you still enjoyed some of it. Any guesses what chapter 4 will be about? Come on people, predict! XD
Oh... and I’ll be putting up excerpts from this point on. Thanks again to Chai for the beta... I think I gave her a headache with this.
Author: deadoralive0013
Pairing: Ryden
Rating: PG13
POV: 3rd
Summary: Ryan has a gift. He's able to see the future only, he couldn't control when. As he worked as a fortune teller, he made up lies to tell people, not really expecting to get a real vision. But one night, he met an annoying young businessman and Ryan's world will never be the same again. Not even the one who saw can fight fate itself.
Excerpt for this chapter:
Ryan snapped out of his daze. It took a few moments before he realized his right hand was holding his left wrist so tightly, his nails were digging in to the skin. He was breathing heavily again and the migraine attack was slowly kicking in. What the fuck was that?
“Brendon,” he muttered unconsciously and he found himself standing up and walking out of the coffee shop. As soon as he stepped out, his head pounded painfully but a familiar red car drove by and fuck, this can’t be happening. “It’s going to happen.”
Warnings: un-everything, a product of a sudden inspiration surge
Beta: Chai phoenix_vixen
Disclaimer: I own the plot but nothing else...
Note: At the end of the chapter
1 2
3
“What will this prove again?” Jon asked staring at the numbers on the paper.
Brendon was sitting on Jon’s living room couch tapping lightly on the wooden coffee table and pretending to not look. Jon sighed loudly and the other turned to his direction with an equally annoyed look.
“I already told you, just pick a number and I’ll be out of your hair,” Brendon said.
Jon frowned at him and then at the paper. “One to ninety-nine. Bren, I’m sure I can count one to ninety-one just fine.”
Brendon rolled his eyes. “I need you to mark it. With ink. Can you get on with it already please?”
“Spencer’s told me about the prediction coming true,” Jon began as he uncapped his pen and scanned the paper for a number. “You know, he could just get lucky again.”
“Right. It is very likely that he’ll get lucky twice in a row,” Brendon said.
“Yup. Very possible,” Jon said as he walked towards Brendon, handing the paper over.
Brendon quickly folded it and tucked it in his coat pocket. “Thanks,” he muttered.
“Aren’t you going to check what number I picked?” Jon asked. “You already heard the prediction right?”
“I don’t want to get over-excited,” he answered offhandedly.
Jon smirked at him before taking a seat. “Then tell me what the numbers are. I want to know if guessed right.”
Brendon rose. “I don’t think so. I’m going to Spencer’s.”
“Oh come on. Tell me. I won’t tell you if he got it right or wrong,” Jon pushed.
Brendon stared at him for a moment. “Fine. He said nine and forty.”
“Holy fucking shit!” Jon exclaimed excitedly and jumped off his couch.
Brendon watched as his friend frantically, practically ran around the place with his hands on his head like a maniac and he wanted to slap Jon in the head because yeah, didn’t he say he won’t tell Brendon?
“I take it that he got yours?” Brendon told him sarcastically.
Jon just bounced around his apartment excitedly and occasionally interjecting ‘fucking shit’. Brendon waited.
“This has got to be,” Jon began and paused, thinking of a word. “I don’t know. Amazing? Freaky? Like those things David Blaine does on the streets?”
“I thought you think he could just get lucky again?” Brendon asked him.
“Well I said so but I didn’t really expect him to actually get it. Aren’t you impressed?” Jon asked, finally recovering from the excitement.
Brendon sighed. He had to admit it was kind of impressive. Well actually, he wanted to join Jon in the moment of craziness he was having earlier but he restrained himself. There’s a good chance that the fortuneteller was really a fortuneteller but he didn’t want to get excited just yet.
“He hasn’t got Spencer’s number right yet.”
“Whatever man. Are you going to Spencer’s now?” Jon asked.
“Yeah. Why?”
Jon quickly grabbed his coat. “I’m coming with you. There’s no way I’m going to miss this.”
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The scene started at a remote seat in the waiting area. She’s wearing her favorite coat, a dark button-down that she bought with her husband on their last trip to Europe. She anxiously checked her watch again and then sighed tiredly. She’s been sitting here for three hours.
The airport was busy. Tourists and businessmen walked around to check in and recheck departure times. It was always like this during the twenty-fourth of December; people rushing in or out of the country because there’s a specific place they wanted to be for Christmas. Like all of them, she also wanted to be in a place. Someone was waiting.
“Our plane leaves at midnight,” he told her and she sighed disappointed.
“I promised him we’ll be home for Christmas,” she said with a voice that suggested she had been waiting to release all her pent up irritation. “Isn’t there anything they could do?”
He leaned forward and placed a chaste kiss on her forehead. “I’m sorry honey. All flights are booked.”
For a moment she didn’t respond. She glared at her watch and then nodded stiffly. “I understand. It’s just that he’s been home alone for a week now. He’s really lonely.”
“I know honey,” he told her as he patted her back comfortingly. “We’ll be there by morning. I’m sure our boy can stand being alone for a few more hours.”
They hugged. He took out his wallet and opened it to reveal a picture of a young boy smiling widely as he ran across someone’s backyard.
Ryan sucked in air noisily as he got up from his bed with a start. He swallowed nervously and wildly looked around his dark apartment. He could feel sweat on his face and on his back sliding down uncomfortably and he sighed, trying to calm himself. It was that damn dream again, he thought.
He pushed the covers away and got up, shaking the images away. He turned the bathroom taps on and hastily splashed his face with the cold water. He had been having the same dream ever since that day. When he was younger, he had it almost every night. The dream bothered him less and less as he grew up until one day - Ryan couldn’t remember - he completely stopped dreaming it.
And tonight he dreamt it again. For years, he was able to sleep peacefully and maybe even got the chance to forget. Why now suddenly?
He shook his head and stared at his reflection. He looked tired. The sudden vision he had the other day had been eating him up for the past few days and now this dream coming back to him. They were foreshadowing something, he was sure of it. Years of being dormant and then both just suddenly coming back in the same week was definitely telling him something and he was scared of what it could be. He closed his eyes and found himself laughing.
What more could he lose?
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“You’re freaking me out,” Spencer said.
Brendon glared at Jon who had his eyes dead set on Spencer and the paper with numbers in his hands.
“Don’t mind him,” Brendon told Spencer. “He’s just excited.”
“Yeah, don’t mind me,” Jon added enthusiastically.
Spencer sighed and turned his gaze on the half-eaten dinner on his table. He had been in the middle of eating it when Brendon and Jon came knocking at his apartment. He knew it could only mean trouble since Brendon disappeared from the office after lunch and never came back and Spencer was sure he could only have been out to hunt the fortuneteller down. Spencer was right.
“What number did Jon choose?” he asked Brendon as he turned to the paper.
“Nine,” Jon answered quickly.
“Did the fortuneteller get it right?”
Brendon nodded. “It’s all up to you now.”
Oh great. Any number from one to ninety-nine except nine. For some reason, Spencer felt a little nervous like he was going to decide for something important. It didn’t help that Jon and Brendon were watching him so anxiously. He took a deep breath and picked the pen up. He could feel the other two watching his hand as he marked the paper.
“Okay done,” Spencer announced and handed Brendon the paper.
This is it, Brendon thought as he held the paper. He cast his gaze down and his eyes went wide.
“Fucking mother fucker!” Jon exclaimed and Brendon winced. The other was apparently looking over his shoulder.
“He got it! He got it!” Jon continued freaking out.
“Did he really?” Spencer asked Brendon.
“He did,” Brendon said and he couldn’t help but smile. As far as he knew, that guy wasn’t a fraud. He really could predict the future.
“Wow,” Spencer said. “We got to ask him... things. We could be rich.”
“I want to know what my boss is hiding and how I can get him sacked,” Jon said dreamily. “The fucker’s been stealing money anyway.”
Spencer and Jon turned to Brendon who was silent. They frowned slightly because hey, this was Brendon. The jumping up and down and loud planning of the future should be done by him.
“What’s wrong?” Jon asked while Spencer listened.
Brendon shook his head. “Nothing. I’m just... happy, that’s all.”
“Well we all are,” Spencer said relieved.
“What are you planning to ask the fortuneteller?” Jon asked with a smile.
“Well, I already told him that if he got this right he’ll be working for me,” Brendon told them and they smirked at him.
“Always ahead of things as always,” Spencer commented. “Better start being nice to him then if you want a personal fortuneteller.”
Right, Brendon thought. The first time they met, he wasn’t exactly nice but it’s a good thing the fortuneteller owed him something. Brendon will surely use that to his advantage.
“I bet Brendon’s going to use him to buy the right stocks from the stock market. Oh God, he could be a billionaire overnight,” Jon added.
“Yeah, yeah,” he muttered and sat on Spencer’s couch. “There’s that and there’s... the other more important thing.”
“Money isn’t the more important thing?” Spencer asked confused.
“Well, remember that thing we were talking about over dinner, the night Jon came home and we met the fortuneteller?”
“Yeah. What about it?” Spencer asked.
“We were talking about...” Jon began trying to remember what their night’s topic was.
“Settling down,” Spencer said finally and Brendon nodded.
“You guys told me that there’s no such thing as a perfect marriage because it’s impossible to meet someone who’s both beautiful and has substance,” Brendon explained. “That may be true but I’m thinking that maybe, if a have a little help from someone who could see the future, I’ll be able to narrow down my search.”
Brendon stared at them expectantly but they were just looking at him with weird smiles. He raised an eyebrow at them and they laughed.
“Aaww... Brendon’s going to hunt his soul mate down!” Jon said jokingly while Spencer shook his head with an amused expression.
“Romantic,” Spencer added after a while.
Brendon sighed and then shrugged. “Laugh all you want but I’m serious. I’m not getting any younger so I have to find her. She’s got to be out there somewhere.”
“You’re twenty-five. That’s hardly old. You said so yourself,” Jon told him. “Why can’t you just enjoy life for now and worry about growing old a few years later when you actually are getting old.”
Good point, Brendon thought. Really, he didn’t want to settle down anytime soon but the prospect of finding someone for himself was somehow appealing to him. Ever since his brother got married and had kids, Brendon had been thinking when his turn was going to come. Providing for a family, raising kids, and not to mention maintaining a marriage all sounded scary but somehow, Brendon could just feel that whoever this person that he would meet, Brendon will love her so much that he won’t mind being put through any kind of trouble.
“I’m not sure,” he told Jon, still thinking. “I just have a feeling that it’s going to be good, worth it.”
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Several days passed by and Brendon cursed at his computer again and again. He had been getting a lot of paperwork but he managed to finish them on time so it wasn’t work that pissed him off. The day after Jon and Spencer gave him the numbers, Brendon went out on his lunch break to drive to that park where the fortuneteller’s tent was. He skipped stopping by for some fast food takeout and rushed his way to the tent, only to find it empty and abandoned. The round table was there but all other things were missing.
Brendon had thought that he just missed the fortuneteller, that he was maybe having one of those migraine attacks but he was wrong. He came back the following day to the empty tent to find it still empty. Brendon kept on coming back desperately hoping to see the fortuneteller again but he failed. On the sixth day, he emerged from the tent disappointed and feeling angry.
How can he do that? Brendon had an agreement with him and he ran away! Brendon had sensed on their last meeting that the fortuneteller was hiding something. He had told Brendon that he was a fraud and apparently he was not. Why would he do that? No matter which way Brendon looked at it, the guy could benefit from Brendon believing his predictions because then he’ll be receiving paychecks. Brendon had promised him so. It didn’t make sense that he would run away just like that.
Maybe he was in trouble, on the run from the mafia or something. Didn’t traveling performers, prostitutes, gypsies, whatever the fuck they were, deal with those kinds of people all the time? Brendon had seen it in movies and this fortuneteller might be living the exact kind of life.
But what if he wasn’t? Then that would mean he was gone because of Brendon and the same questions arise. Brendon didn’t know much about the guy but he could tell he’s having a rough time. He’s so thin and the way he spoke to Brendon on that first night, like he was all indignant and defensive, gave him the impression that he had to deal with people insulting him all the time.
He had thought of looking for this kid but Brendon remembered that he didn’t have a name. How can he meet him twice and not bother asking for a name? So instead, he went around asking people in the park about a thin young man who worked as a fortuneteller.
“There are a lot fortunetellers who come here,” the park security guard had told him when Brendon went there on one of his lunch breaks yet again. “Don’t you have a picture of him?”
“No,” Brendon said. “He... has sandy-brown hair though. About a couple of centimeters taller than me and, uh, wears makeup.”
The security guard’s face twisted a little as though trying to remember something and then his eyes went wide. “You mean that boy who looks like a girl?”
Come to think of it, the fortuneteller did look like a girl. Soft features, delicate hands, full pink lips... If it wasn’t for his voice and the obvious lack of breasts, Brendon could have mistaken him for a girl.
“Uh... yeah,” Brendon muttered awkwardly.
“Yeah, I’ve seen him. Talked to him once or twice,” the guard said nodding. “Nice kid, always polite. I never had any troubles because of him, unlike those clowns and mimes who come here to chase tourists. I told him to keep his tent out of the way though and he said yes. Very nice kid.”
Brendon was taken aback. The boy was anything but nice during those two times Brendon had the chance to meet him. Then again, that might have something to do with the way Brendon had made fun of him. “So uh, what’s his name?”
The security guard’s eyes narrowed and scrutinized Brendon from head to foot. “Why?” he asked sharply.
Brendon laughed nervously. “I... We had a deal and-”
“He’s a fortuneteller, not a prostitute,” he said suddenly. “Get away from him and find yourself a real whore.”
“What? No! I’m not like that!” Brendon said scandalized.
“You look too young to be a pimp though... or are you?” the guard added stubbornly.
Brendon sighed and ran his fingers through his hair. “Look, I met him twice and he has been giving me correct predictions. I just want get my fortune told.”
The guard stared at him and Brendon stared back determinedly. Seriously. So the boy might be nice as this stupid guard kept on saying but Brendon wasn’t the one putting up illegal tents in public parks. The guard’s eyes were still narrowed with suspicion but finally nodded.
“I got him arrested him months ago. He said he was new here and he set up a tent near the west gate not knowing it wasn’t allowed. First and last violation he did,” the guard began as though the incident happened just yesterday. “He had no records of any sort. No police file, no ID, no anything. He told me he changed his name quite frequently and I didn’t ask why. I figured with his kind of lifestyle, he’d be avoiding some people. Right now, he told me he’s called Ryan.”
“Ryan,” Brendon repeated. He had expected something like ‘Mystic Moon’ or ‘Harry Potter’. “Do you know where I can find him? An address maybe?
The guard shook his head. “Last I saw him was a week ago. He came to get his things, not even wearing his makeup anymore. I told him I’ll be keeping his tent in its place just in case he changes his mind but he said he won’t be coming back.”
Brendon’s stomach sank. The disappointment somehow felt a lot worse than he would have imagined it. He ignored it. “Thanks. I’ll try looking for him in some other place.”
“You’re wasting you time. A person like Ryan, you won’t find him if he doesn’t want to be found.”
This man should really know when to shut up, Brendon had thought but as it turned out, the security guy was right. A few more days passed and there wasn’t a single sighting of Ryan. A few times Brendon thought he saw a hint of wavy brown hair and did a double take, ran and one time grabbed the arm of the person, only to be disappointed when he realized he made a mistake.
Jon and Spencer had been supportive about it. They helped Brendon inquire in different police stations in the city and they would sometimes call him when they happen to visit other public parks. They did searches on the internet but there were too many search results containing ‘Ryan Seacrest’ and they gave up after a few days. There were too many Ryan’s in the world.
So a couple of months later as Brendon walked into a coffee shop near his office building to get coffee to go, he didn’t expect to see the Ryan he was looking for. In one of those small tables at the remotest part of the wide shop, Ryan was sitting alone with a steamy cup in front of him while his full attention was focused on an open book he held with one hand. His eyebrows were slightly wrinkled in concentration and Brendon couldn’t believe this was the same guy who told him to put his money on that computer company. If Brendon hadn’t met him before, Ryan could pass for an ordinary college student and yes, Brendon thought, Ryan really did look somewhat effeminate. Brendon’s stomach twisted weirdly and he blamed it on not having any breakfast.
Quickly, Brendon paid for his coffee and carefully made his way to the boy. Ryan obliviously continued reading and Brendon took the chance to get closer and closer. Who knew where he’ll disappear to again if he found out that Brendon was here?
“Is it any good?” Brendon asked when he was standing right behind Ryan. The other’s shoulders visibly stiffened before he slowly turned to face Brendon.
“Fuck,” Ryan muttered and quickly rose but Brendon was faster than him. He put both his hands on Ryan’s shoulders and pushed him back down to sit. Brendon smiled at him sweetly as he joined Ryan in the table while the other shook his head like the world was being cruel to him.
“So I’m right. You have been avoiding me,” Brendon said.
Ryan flinched before recovering. “Do I know you?”
Brendon sneered at him. “How rude of you. Is that how you treat your boyfriend, Ryan?” he said loudly and the people from the nearby table cast them disapproving looks. “Don’t even think that you can play dumb with me.”
Ryan’s eyes went wide. “Will you shut up?” he hissed, covering his face with his book. “And how the hell did you find out about my name?”
“You shut up. I get to ask the questions,” Brendon snapped and Ryan glared at him. “We can begin by me asking why you are so bent on getting rid of me and you answering... now.”
Ryan rolled his eyes at Brendon who was unblinkingly staring at him, waiting for a response. “I wasn’t-”
“BBbzzzzzttt...” Brendon interrupted. “Wrong answer. Try again.”
That was when Ryan suddenly rose and Brendon grabbed both of his wrists and pulled him down. Ryan glared at him but he didn’t release his arms, just gripping them more tightly. “No running,” he told Ryan.
The other sighed deeply and glared at everything that was in sight. He wouldn’t meet Brendon’s eyes though and that caught Brendon’s attention. “Are you gay?” he asked suddenly.
The look of mixed disbelief and hate on Ryan’s face almost made Brendon release his grip on the other’s wrists. Ryan sighed and averted his gaze to the side. “I am not gay,” he said monotonously.
“Then why won’t you look me in the eyes?”
“Because you annoy me.”
“We have a deal.”
“I don’t remember making a deal.”
“Of course you do. Remember our own lottery?” Brendon asked.
Yes, Ryan thought but he wouldn’t say that out loud. He didn’t want to humor this guy anymore. “You’re hurting my arms.”
“The two numbers Jon and Spencer picked, they’re exactly the ones you predicted,” Brendon said ignoring him.
Ryan couldn’t help but be shocked. Again. “What?”
“I said your prediction came true again,” Brendon explained.
That’s impossible. Ryan picked those numbers out of the blue. He didn’t think nor even try to get them right. Something was seriously wrong. He managed to glare right back at Brendon’s eyes because yeah, it was this guy’s fault. Ryan’s gift was somehow reacting to this stupid person and Ryan didn’t like it one bit.
In the past, he had seen quite a number of visions. What Ryan had learned was that after had seen one, he’d start to have migraine attacks and suffer from the pain until he saw his vision come true right in front of him. He had seen all sorts of things happening to people from merely passing an exam while he was in school, to people getting themselves killed while eating out. He was sort of used to it by now and was relieved that the visions weren’t bothering him anymore, well, until Brendon came. This time though, Ryan hadn’t experienced a single migraine attack since that one he got right after the vision about Brendon and himself. It had to mean something. It always did.
“Judging from your reaction, you didn’t expect getting it right again,” Brendon said and snapped him out of his thoughts.
“That’s because I guessed,” Ryan said. “I didn’t see this happening at all.”
Brendon glanced at Ryan’s arms on the table and then at his serious face. He looked really different without the makeup. “So you just got lucky. Again. Do you get lucky this often, Ryan?”
Ryan pulled at his arms but the other didn’t let go. “I swear, this is all a mistake. Stop bothering me, please. This may all seem like I’m psychic but really, I’m not. I don’t know how but I just happened to get the numbers right.”
“Great luck you have then,” Brendon said sarcastically.
“Maybe,” Ryan agreed seriously and Brendon raised an eyebrow. This was getting ridiculous.
“Look, just because a guy won the lottery doesn’t mean he’s psychic. Around the world, one or two persons get the right combination once in a while. Normal people. You don’t need psychic abilities to do that because you know what? It happens. People get lucky. They just do and sometimes... at the most unexpected times,” Ryan finished awkwardly.
Brendon wasn’t convinced that Ryan was just lucky but he found himself slowly loosening his grip on the other’s wrists and finally letting go. Ryan withdrew his arms back and flexed his wrists a little.
“You... I... This is crazy,” Brendon said. He couldn’t think of anything to say to express how confused he was. He needed Ryan damnit! Brendon needed to find his girl and Ryan was going to help him. “I really... need your help. I’m desperate.”
It could have been the dim lighting of the coffee shop or the twisting in his stomach that started again at that moment because he didn’t have breakfast but Brendon was sure Ryan’s expression softened when he heard those words. For a moment, Ryan looked like he was going to say ‘yes, I’m psychic’ and then offer to help Brendon but then he changed, looking somewhat sad and tired, almost... guilty.
“I’m sorry. I cannot help you,” Ryan muttered softly.
He is psychic, Brendon thought. He just didn’t want to help Brendon that’s all. The questions, the arguments, the fucking desperation were still there but Brendon found himself nodding. Ryan was complicated. Putting money on the table wouldn’t do any good so Brendon didn’t even try. Something was holding Ryan back, he was sure of it.
Ryan watched as Brendon slowly got up and stiffly reached for his coffee. His shoulders were hunched in an obvious disappointment as he gave Ryan a quick nod before walking to the coffee shop’s door. Ryan couldn’t believe Brendon had finally given up but what he couldn’t believe more was how shitty turning him down made Ryan felt. He tore his eyes away Brendon’s back and sat back down to grab his book. He should be relieved, not feeling guilty.
Unconsciously, he reached for the coffee and took a sip hoping to find some peace. He paused enjoying the warmth of it in his body, vaguely thinking that yes, he was really lucky. Earlier, Ryan was walking outside and passed by this coffee shop when he spotted a piece of crumpled paper on the sidewalk. He bent down, picked it up and was surprised to find that he was actually holding a fifty. He smoothed it out and the smell of coffee invited him in the shop. It had been weeks since he had coffee so he wasn’t about to let the opportunity pass. After he got his coffee, Ryan spotted a book quietly lying on the wooden table at the far end of the shop. He waited but after almost ten minutes with no one claiming it, Ryan gingerly walked to the table, sat and opened the book.
This was just too deliberate. Ryan felt angry that somehow, everything that happened to him that morning was meant to happen so that he’d sit there and wait for Brendon to see him. He was tired of being led, of seeing. He was tired of the future and he hated his gift more.
“What do you want from me now?” Ryan muttered to himself and covered his face with both hands. “What?”
Suddenly, Ryan was no longer in the dim coffee shop. A busy street. Too many cars, people, traffic light. A red car, speeding. Traffic. A young man. Brendon. He was walking, holding his coffee. A biker zoomed past him knocking it off his hand. Brendon cursed. He was crossing the street. A boy was playing with a soccer ball at the other end. The red car. Brendon walked past the boy. He didn’t see the red car. It was speeding towards him. A loud crash. People, lots of them. They were crowding around his body. Blood. Brendon’s face. Dead.
Ryan snapped out of his daze. It took a few moments before he realized his right hand was holding his left wrist so tightly, his nails were digging in to the skin. He was breathing heavily again and the migraine attack was slowly kicking in. What the fuck was that?
“Brendon,” he muttered unconsciously and he found himself standing up and walking out of the coffee shop. As soon as he stepped out, his head pounded painfully but a familiar red car drove by and fuck, this can’t be happening. “It’s going to happen.”
He ran, wildly looking around searching for the things he saw in his vision while he ignored his headache. Ryan clutched his temple as he went, desperately trying to find which way Brendon went. He had walked a couple of blocks from the coffee shop without success and he could feel fear and panic rising up to his throat. He felt like throwing up. His hands were cold as he pushed himself forward, mind blank except for the steady stream of cursing.
“Fuck!”
Ryan heard Brendon’s voice somewhere behind him and as he turned to the direction of the source, a familiar bike zoomed past him. He broke into a run, his head starting to pound like it’s going to break open. Ryan ignored it though he didn’t know how much more of it he could take. He was panting and paused a moment to catch his breath when he finally saw Brendon crossing the street several meters away from him. Ryan automatically gazed at the end of the pedestrian lane and sure enough, the kid was there playing with his soccer ball.
“No,” Ryan muttered and he forced himself to move. He broke into a run but Brendon kept on walking. “Brendon!”
The noisy street and the distance between them masked Ryan’s voice. His head felt like it was breaking open and his chest was tight with pain but he kept moving. Brendon had already reached the end of the pedestrian lane and by the time Ryan was about to cross it, the traffic light turned green. The traffic resumed.
“You have got to be kidding me,” Ryan muttered as he watched the vehicles zoom in hazy blurs in front of him while Brendon walked closer and closer to his doom. “Fuck it,” Ryan muttered before starting run across the street.
Loud honks, beeps and curse words were thrown at him but Ryan ignored them all, not stopping once even when he saw a delivery truck coming. His tired legs moved on their own and Ryan miraculously managed to reach the gutter without a scratch. Brendon had just walked past the boy with the soccer ball and Ryan could see the red car coming in top speed.
“Brendon!” he called but the fucker was deaf.
Cursing loudly, Ryan pushed himself yet again. He glanced at the road and saw the red car moving closer. “Brendon!” he tried again. Fucking, deaf!
It was going to happen. Everything Ryan was seeing was the replica of his vision. Brendon was a couple of feet ahead of him. Ryan’s head was killing him and he felt like he was about to collapse. Really, he could just let Brendon walk to his doom and everything will finally end but still he found himself running, using up the last of his stored.
“Brendon!”
And then finally, fucking finally, Brendon stopped. Ryan’s stomach sank as he realized that the other was standing exactly where the car was going to crash. He ran, faster than he had ever done so in his life, the red haze at his right coming closer and closer.
Brendon was surprised to see Ryan running towards him looking like he just ran a mile. He smirked. “Change of heart-?”
The force of the impact was enough to knock the wind out of Brendon and he was falling a few feet from where he was standing with Ryan firmly holding him. Right before his back painfully collided with the solid pavement, Brendon distinctly heard a loud crashing sound followed by glass shattering and loud screams.
His vision was hazy and his back ached. There was a weight on top of him and it took a few seconds before his vision cleared. Ryan’s face was a few inches from his, looking flushed and breathing heavily. He was glaring at him but relief was also evident in his face.
“Fucking deaf,” Ryan muttered breathily before getting off of him.
Brendon hastily got up. A deformed red car had slammed against a classy boutique and people were running everywhere in mixed panic and excitement. He cast a look at Ryan and found him leaning against a post still breathing heavily with eyes closed.
“Did you just... save my life?” he blurted out.
Ryan looked up at him for a moment but didn’t say anything. The migraine was wearing off. Brendon should be okay now.
“Hey!” Brendon called as Ryan started to walk away. He caught up with him easily and grabbed an arm.
“What?” Ryan asked tiredly.
“That wasn’t out of luck or chance,” Brendon said accusingly. “You saw it. You knew I was going to get hit by that car so you followed me.”
Ryan felt tired but anger was starting to take over. “So what if I did? You’re alive! Can’t you just be fucking thankful and stop with the psychic crap already?”
Brendon bit his lip and nodded. “Sorry. I didn’t mean it to sound that way.”
Ryan nodded at him and resumed walking. His migraine was gone but his legs were killing him with each step.
“I owe you my life,” Brendon said and Ryan froze but did not look back. “Thank you.”
This time, Ryan spared him a glance back and Brendon might be seeing the tiniest hint of smile. “Don’t mention it.”
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NOTES:
I really have nothing to say... except I’m back at univ. It sucks big time and I want to break something... T__T
Anyway, it seems like my mind just can’t help but come up with cheesy clichés nowadays so sorry for that. Writing things about visions and predictions coming true are fun though so hope you still enjoyed some of it. Any guesses what chapter 4 will be about? Come on people, predict! XD
Oh... and I’ll be putting up excerpts from this point on. Thanks again to Chai for the beta... I think I gave her a headache with this.