Family Values [Ryan/Brendon][NC-17]
banner by yunie_rikku ♥
Family Values [standalone]
Brendon/ Ryan, Ryan/ Jac, Brendon/ Audrey
NC-17 for drug abuse, domestic violence, underage sex, step-brother 'incest'.
Lyrics:
Sense Fail-Can't Be Saved
The Fray-Over My Head
Dedication: yunie_rikku yunie_rikku yunie_rikku yunie_rikku yunie_rikku :D
"Personally, I don't care," are the first words to drip from her mouth. Then, "She deserved it. Stupid slut slept with everyone around her, and a gay boy got her pregnant." Ryan slips his eyes shut and thinks of her skin glistening under the florescent lights of the bathroom. She's all china-doll and cold. He smiles to himself. She downed alcohol and pills; copy cat, he thinks, almost venomously. But then again, he stopped feeling pity a long time ago.
*
Go fill up a glass with tonic rocks and gin,
And drink yourself to happiness
Ryan figures it started with his mom.
Ryan remembers the first time she fought back. The memories are vague, chunks of darkness where pieces are missing. There was yelling though; shattering glass and the slap of fist against skin, the pound of bone against drywall. He guessed he should be proud that she ran away. The only thing was, she didn't take him with her, and he hated her for that.
*
Ryan grabs around in the dark, searching. The feel of skin relieves him slightly. He clutch's Brendon's hand, lacing their fingers together, their joint pulses skittering under their skin wildly. Outside, George's voice booms out, his curse streaming under the door. Next to him, Brendon shakes.
Light snakes beneath the crack in the door as George stomps into their shared room. His shadow causes dips in the brightness, stalking back and forth.
"Come out, come out," he calls. Ryan, in his whole nine years of life experience, is reminded slightly of a horror movie. When the door swings open, the light blinds him for a second. He feels Brendon's hand ripped away from his, though, as the other boy is pulled out of their hiding space.
(The closet, which Ryan will look back on later and realize, is ironic and fucking funny.)
George doesn't care though, tosses the eight-year-old like a rag doll and drags Ryan up by his wrists. His arms feel like their going to pop out of their sockets. He cries out, but George just laughs a little, alcoholic breath streaming from his lips.
*
"You fucking brought him on us!" Brendon accuses, shoving at Ryan's shoulders. Ryan's back slams into the wall roughly. His face twists, red; anger coursing unwillingly through his veins.
"Fuck you!" he hisses, words coming out forceful, but almost quiet.
"Your dad is the one who is a raging alcoholic," Brendon snarls. Ryan's fists clench at his side. "Your dad is the one who can't fucking control himself." Ryan feels heat building up in his chest.
"Your mom is the one who can't fight back," he retorts, his knuckles white from the force of keeping it all in. He's not defending his dad, but fuck. "Your mom is the one who doesn't give a shit. She's the one who doesn't give a shit if you get the shit beat out of you." Brendon's face twists up on itself with hurt.
"You want to know who doesn't give a shit Ryan?" Brendon demands, his voice gaining volume in the empty house. Ryan knows what he's going to say. "Your mom is the one who fucking left you with the sick bastard. She left you." Ryan's shaking angrily.
"What did you say?" Ryan questions, stalling, his voice dropping in volume with frightening intensity. Brendon's mind runs one track.
"She left you," he repeats, forcefully, full of venom. Ryan breaks his nose and bruises his rib.
*
"I want to fuck you," Brendon growls, low in his ear. The sweet smell of weed accosts his senses. He twists over. Brendon's hanging over him, straddling his hips. His bangs drop towards Ryan, the look in his eyes fucking predatory.
"You're high," Ryan accuses, but he's used to it. His eyes sweep over bruises on Brendon's wrists; then, old track marks, running across his veins like tiny ants.
"Obviously," Brendon smirks. He grins and grabs at Ryan's wrists, pinning them over his head gently. He presses his lips to Ryan's, his tongue darting out and sweeping across the crease in Ryan's lips. Brendon tastes like smoke and smells like perfume as Ryan arches into him.
*
They cut their palms open and force their blood together. Brothers, best friends, forever.
"Forever right?" Brendon asks, his palm is bandaged up and still bleeding. Ryan just nods, and kisses him gently. Ryan knows the scars will be long and jagged, rough and always present.
"Forever," Ryan says, sincerely.
*
Ryan's sure the first time they fuck is when they drop acid at Gabe's house together. It's a house party. William leads them upstairs. The entire second story smells like drugs. Smoke bellows out of doorways as they are opened, revealing giggling boys and girls. Brendon looks nervous, his eyes darting from one scene to another. Ryan watches him, slightly amused, almost tripping as a girl in her underwear grabs at his leg. William laughs it off though, telling them the "real party" is farther back.
*
Ryan recognizes a few supposed "good kids" from his school. They all look like dazed out hippies. William drops a half dozen pellets into his hand, telling him to share.
"They're not that strong," he says. Brendon looks nervous again; Ryan pulls him into a far corner.
"It'll be okay," he promises, slipping his hand in Brendon's.
"Yeah," Brendon mutters, staring past Ryan where two girls ware locked at the lips, one's hand down the other's panties. He squirms. "Fuck that's hot," he laughs.
"Close your eyes," Ryan says; Brendon obliges, slipping his eyes shut. "Open your mouth," Ryan laughs; Brendon obliges, letting his mouth fall open. Ryan places a pellet on his tongue, and Brendon snaps his jaw shut, swallowing.
"Did I do it right?" Brendon asks, looking at his hands. Ryan just shrugs. Ryan chokes one down and sat against the wall, watching the girls. 30 minutes later Brendon whines that he was still feels normal. William takes pity on them, giving them stronger acid, but in little squares of paper this time.
It takes a while, but it comes. Ryan's body feels like it dropped off a cliff, but is floating in mid-air. When he looks at Brendon, the other boy's eyes are pure black, pupils blow wide open. The background fades out, and every time Brendon sways his head, it's in slow motion. Like, Ryan doesn't even know.
Brendon face looks all too-bright as he asks, "you feel it yet?" Ryan nods; it feels like a balloon is inflated in his skull. Brendon shakes his head, and says too loud, "I don't." Ryan lays a tab on his tongue and dives for Brendon's mouth, giving him the acid, transferring it with his tongue. Brendon just gives him a dazed out look, and swallows.
*
Ryan focuses intently the hummingbirds behind Brendon's head so he doesn't come too fast as Brendon enters him.
*
"Are you high?" George demands, gripping Brendon's wrist forcefully. Ryan watches from around the corner as Brendon's eyes drill holes into the carpet. He nods slowly, and George's grip tightens visibly. Brendon flinches from under his bangs. Ryan's legs are rooted to the carpet, trying to decide whether or not to bolt. "George Ryan Ross," his father bellows, his hand still wound tight around Brendon's skin; Ryan imagines skin and bone twisting.
He walks into the room, blinking slowly. "Yeah?" he asks, faking innocence.
"Your brother is high," George says. Ryan nods a little stiffly. George is sober enough to know who's lying to him. "Are you?" Ryan nods again. He twitches when George lets Brendon's wrist fall and walks over to him. He grasps Ryan's chin in his fingers, seizing it painfully. "On what?" he demands, dark eyes boring into Ryan.
"Just weed," he mutters, voice quiet in the way that makes him feel pitiful. George backhands him so hard a smack! resounds around the room. The skin on his face stings, making his eyes prickle.
"Tell me," George says, grabbing Ryan's wrist and yanking him over to where Brendon's standing. "Tell me why you will come home high off fucking weed, but you mind me drinking." Ryan and Brendon both know the reply, but neither of them wish to answer.
"Tell me," he demands.
"We don't mind," Brendon mumbles, his tone betraying his lie. George glares at him and grabs the back of his head, wrenching the hair. Brendon cries out, his hands flying up to his hair; Ryan cringes.
"Good," George hisses, directing his eyes to Ryan now. He grabs a bottle of beer from the cooler by his feet, and shoves it in Ryan's direct. "Drink it," he commands, his eyes narrow. He winds his fingers tighter in Brendon's hair, making him whimper. Ryan's eyes dart from the bottle to Brendon. George leans in and whispers, "I'll fucking beat his ass if you don't."
*
Ryan feels the liquid sticking to his insides like pure poison. It chases down all the air, the breath is expelled from his body. He watches Brendon's eyes, drowned in doubt and tears. His head lightens up, but not enough.
*
Ryan's entire body heaves as he grips the porcelain, his fingers cramping with the effort. Sweat rolls in beads down his back, sticking his shirt to his skin. His hair clings to his forehead. He chugged the beer, running to the bathroom as soon as he could to shove his fingers down his throat.
His eyes crack, leaking tears. Pitiful noises wrench from his throat. A cold hand lands gently on his back, he knows who it is. He doesn't want to look though. His eyes are ruby red from restricting tears so forcefully. He feels Brendon kiss the skin where his shoulder and neck join; he shutters. From what, he doesn't even know.
"It's okay," Brendon whispers, kneeled next to him on the tile. He has his hands wrapped around Ryan's tiny waist. "We're okay."
Ryan relaxes with Brendon lying so blatantly in his ear.
*
"Do you remember?" Brendon asks, lying in the dark of their room. Ryan squirms, and then sits up on his elbows, blanket falling to pool around his waist. Brendon's talking about them fucking.
"Of course I do, stupid," he grumbles, watching the moonlight that clings to Brendon's figure. Brendon sleeps in an old cotton shirt. It twists with his frame as he rolls to face Ryan. "Come here," Ryan whispers. Brendon obeys, creeping across the floor slowly, stepping through the shafts of moonlight. Ryan shuffles towards the wall, leaving space for Brendon.
"Did it freak you out?" He asks, when he scoots into Ryan's space, letting his hand drape across the other boy's delicate hips. Ryan laughs, staring at the way Brendon's brown eyes catch the starlight.
"No," he says, in all honestly. Brendon's eyes widen slightly, but he doesn't say anything. "I mean," Ryan elaborates, trying to sooth over the news. "We're different anyway. We deal." His eyes dart to Brendon's lips, and when he looks up, he notices Brendon watching him intently. "It doesn't matter," Ryan sighs, dipping his head forward and kissing Brendon easily. Brendon's grip tightens on his hip.
*
"So let me get this straight," Jac giggles at the word. "Your dad is a psycho alcoholic, who beats you up, your mom jetted when she found out, leaving you with said father, your step-mom is a pussy bitch, who can't stand up to your dad, and you're in love with your brother?"
"Step-brother," Ryan corrects, defensively.
"Right," Jac cackles again. Her perfectly manicured fingers running through her straw-blonde hair. She gives him a look, and sniggers again. "Seriously, you're so fucked up Ross." He sighs and just buries his head in her stomach. She threads her hands through his hair, stopping to massage his scalp every so often. He pushes into her hand.
"It's not like I can help it," he says. She just nods where he can't see her. He feels her ribs digging into his cheek bone. Her legs latch around his waist as she tugs his chin up.
"Hey baby," she purrs, soothing. "It'll be okay." She smiles down at him. He sighs.
"You're so bony," he informs her.
"It's what keeps me beautiful," she enlightens, fingering the hollow in her stomach. Ryan just rolls his eyes and takes another hit off her joint.
*
"WHERE THE FUCK WERE YOU?"George yells, his face more red than normal. Ryan freezes in the doorway, his hand in his pocket to replace the keys.
"A school thing," he mumbles, his eyes wide and surprised.
"Fuck, no you weren't," George yells. Ryan can tell he's fuzzy around the edges, drunk and disorderly. Ryan gasps out loud when George grabs him around the forearm, flexing his fingers against the soft skin. "Where the fuck were you?" he demands again. Ryan can tell he's half a second from getting thrown.
"At school!" Ryan snaps, trying to squirm out of George's hold without him noticing. He does notice though, he gives Ryan a disgusted look and throws him across the room. Ryan cries out as his shoulder hits the corner of the bookcase.
*
"What the fuck, Ryan?" Brendon's sitting on his bed, wide-eyed and nervous looking.
"Fuck," is all Ryan says. Brendon's got a phone in his hand, and he talks into it quickly.
"Listen-- I got to go-- No, it's my brother... Alright-- I love you too. " He hangs up with a quick click. "What the fuck happened?" He demands, standing up and curling his hand around Ryan's elbow. Ryan pulls back, giving him a distrusting look.
"Who was that?" he questions, his voice sharp in his throat. Brendon gives him a half-panicked look, but smoothes it over quickly.
"Audrey," he mutters vaguely. Ryan feels his insides clench.
"Who's that?" he asks quietly.
"Some one I met," Brendon says, his voice rising slightly. Ryan sends him a glare, calculating, then, a look of realization passes over his face. A tingle runs white-hot up his spine, something forceful and crushing. Ryan's hands curl at his sides. Brendon gives him an anxious look, his hand still gripping Ryan's elbow. Anger blooms in Ryan's stomach; he slams his fist into Brendon's cheek, and stomps out to the bathroom, slamming the door behind him.
It takes two minutes before George comes to investigate. The door shakes on its hinges with the force of the knock. Ryan sits on the edge of the bathtub, his hands tangled in his hair. The door rattles again. Ryan can imagine George's open palm slamming against the wood of the door angrily. The footsteps wonder off, Ryan can see where the light fades out.
George comes back though, accompanied by Brendon's shadow under the door. Ryan hears a slightly scuff, then there's another slam on the door. He hears George bellow for Brendon to get him to open the door. He hears nothing come from Brendon though. He can imagine the tight lines of anger on George's face. He hears a series of thuds before there's another pound on the door.
"Your brother's a fucking pussy," George yells, his voice hazed by the door between them. Ryan clenches his fists harder, tugging his hair in the process.
"Fuck you," he screams, tears building in his eyes. The treachery starts up in his chest, rough and unwanted. Brendon fucking betrayed him, and his father is not helping at all. Everything goes quiet outside the door, then more slams come, making Ryan flinch. The door flies open half a second later, the handle broken off the wood. George grabs Ryan's bicep and hauls him to his feet. He shoves him out the door and chases him down the stairs.
"What the fuck did you say?" he questions, his voice loud around the house. Ryan can see Brendon's mom standing at the end of the hall downstairs, her face tear streaked and frightened. He wants to yell at her to be a fucking mom and protect her fucking son, but he doesn't, just gets shoved into the wall instead. "Fucking tell me," George keeps yelling, his arms shoving and shoving.
"Fuck you," Ryan says, low and shaking, tears wetting his face. George yells and throws him across the room. Ryan's back slams into the china cabinet, glass raining down around his head.
*
He wakes up in the hospital, Brendon sleeping in the chair next to him.
*
"I'm sorry," Brendon kisses into his skin. They're lying on Ryan's bed. The cuts adorning Ryan's body are just new, shiny, red battle wounds. Brendon takes care to trace each one with his tongue, sending goose bumps down Ryan's body. Ryan is painfully hard between them; Brendon just grins against his mouth. Brendon lets his fingers dance across the expanse of Ryan's skin. Over his stomach and down his arms, just touching. Ryan releases a low whining noise as Brendon reaches the v in his hips. Brendon kisses Ryan into his pillow, thumbing at the curves that are his hips in the process.
Ryan makes another needy noise, his hands skimming over Brendon's back to grab at this ass. "Please," he barely breaths out against Brendon's lips. Brendon's eyes slip wide and the grin stretches across his features again. Brendon designs swirls on Ryan's skin, slithering lower and lower. He pushes Ryan's boxers lower, his fingers raking through the top of the dark curls of hair below his waistline. Ryan purrs into his mouth, arching his body in anticipation.
"You can be as loud as you want," Brendon purrs, low into his ear. "No one's home," it's an empty promise, Ryan knows (he's not loud, and if there are people home, they don't bother venturing upstairs), but it sends a shiver down his spine and lands a twist in his gut.
*
Ryan stomps downstairs. He's clad in basketball shorts, bandages standing out stark against his skin; there's a wrap of gauze around his torso, hiding the gashes from the glass. He stops at the bottom of the stairs, confronted with an odd scene. George is sitting at the table, his knuckles wrapped in prime white bandages. Brendon's mom stands at the stove, shuffling eggs around in a pan.
Sweet smells of food flood his senses, making his mouth water.
"Good morning," Grace says brightly, her smile twinkling out from under a bruise on her cheek. Ryan just blinks at her, then looks sideways at George. His dad just sits there at the table, his nose buried in a newspaper. Ryan blinks again. Everything is frighteningly domestic. "Want eggs?" she questions, shoveling an amount of the yellow substance on a plate and placing it in front of George. Ryan shakes his head firmly.
"This is freaking me out," he announces, and darts back up the stairs. He grabs a shirt and his keys off the desk, shoving money into his pocket. He's out the door before anyone can ask questions.
*
"You're so fucking sick," Jac cackles. They're lying head-to-head on her trampoline, watching the sky swirl purple. Ryan groans and tosses his hand over his eyes. Behind his eyelids sunflowers bloom in teal. Her voice is smoky next to his ear, and his brain slips into post-sleep mode, drifting.
"I know," Ryan finally says, after time has passed by slowly, like the trickling of water. He swears there's ticking in his ears. "But, fuck, I mean, fuck." Jac nods like she understands where he's going with this. In reality, she's trying to focus on the gray and orange frogs hopping on her torso. "He just," Ryan runs a hand through his hair, catching Jac's locks with his. He pulls his hand back, wondering when he became a blonde. "He fucking told her he loved her." Jac squirms slightly, lifting her shirt to run her nails across her stomach, scattering the frogs.
"Maybe it's a friend love," she suggests.
"A friend love," Ryan echoes, his brow furrowing deeply. He shakes his head quickly, making the sky spin out of control. He laughs. "Fuck no," he says. "Brendon doesn't have friends," he says. Jac giggles, twisting her head so her red lips hit Ryan's ear.
"Do you see the frogs?" she whispers loudly.
"Jac!" he says sharply, pulling on a lock of her, his, whoever's hair is in his hand.
"Sorry," she amends. She squirms so that she can lay her head on his stomach, and stare at him with her black and blown pupils. "He loves you more though," she mutters, dragging her fingernails over the expanse of her stomach again. She drops her voice level and gets a glimmer in her eye. "He fucked you," she murmurs dramatically, snorting with giggles as soon as the words drip off her lips. Ryan watches them fall as golden liquor, running down her chin and over her chest. "Your brother fucked you," she sing-songs at him. She rotates her body so she's lying across him sloppily.
"Did you like it?" she questions, purring close to his mouth. Ryan trips out on how fucking blonde her hair is before answering.
"Yes," he growls. She guffaws.
"That's hot," she proclaims. Her lips are sticky as they kiss.
*
Ryan crawls up to where Brendon is perched on the roof, standing up to walk once he's on the shingles. He realizes he's still on a trip when the smoke spilling out from Brendon's pillowy lips is neon purple. He figures the acid pumping through his veins will steady this confession. He walks over to Brendon unstably, his legs wobbling slightly. Brendon grins up at him through his cigarette. Ryan grins back. He places a foot on either side of Brendon's thighs, dropping his knees to straddle him.
He grasps at Brendon's hair, vaguely registering the fact that it feels like straw, and seals their lips together forcefully. He pulls back and Brendon's eyes look like deep cherry colored wood smiling up at him. He pulls back suddenly, blinking as the world spins.
"I kissed Jac," he says, his tongue heavy. Brendon just looks at him. He rubs out his cigarette on a roof shingle, and regards Ryan with light eyes.
"Okay," he shrugs. Ryan frowns at him. He wants Brendon to be distressed like he was when he found about Audrey.
"It didn't mean it though," he adds, his hands run across Brendon's jeans, fingering the crease along the side. "I mean, she's my friend." A pink snail scurries across Brendon's jeans, and he tries to brush it away with the back of his hand. He doesn't get it though. Brendon grabs his hand and brings him close, breathing against his lips and kissing them softly, chaste.
*
"I want to leave," Brendon says, lacing his hand in Ryan, lying next to him on the bed.
*
There's a weekend when George and Grace are away, trying to fix their marriage Ryan supposes, and Ryan meets Audrey. She's skinny and stringy with bubble gum pink hair. Ryan doesn't like her immediately. He can't identify why at the moment though. He calls Jac frantically and tells her to get her ass over to his house. She obliges. When she arrives she's a burst of energy, laying her lips as a quick hello against Ryan's lips. He rolls his eyes, but grins when he feels the tablet on her tongue.
"I didn't want to share," she whispers as he swallows.
"You're a life saver," he confesses, hugging her sideways. She meets Audrey, being curt but polite. She stares after her though, as Audrey turns, star-struck.
"Fuck she's hot," Jac hisses, clicking her fake nails together. Ryan glares, but allows her to drape herself across him during the movie. Brendon and Audrey lay on the other couch. Ryan watches as Brendon's fingers tap against Audrey's shoulder rhythmically. The beats start to echo around his head as the drugs kick in.
He giggles, and Jac giggles too, knowing what he's laughing at.
*
He just stands at the door, hypnotized by the arch of Audrey's body. Brendon's head is nestled between her legs, raising and falling slightly. Her legs tremble, and Ryan doesn't even need to imagine. Her hair glows too bright in the light, her face contorting with exaggerated pleasure. Her skin is shimmering with sweat. She cracks a make up decorated eyes open, though, and screams at Ryan.
"Sorry," he says, as she's screaming at him to get the fuck out. Brendon's head snaps up; he regards Ryan with a dazed expression before smirking comfortably, slipping his first two fingers deep inside Audrey. She's still mad, but that stills her a bit.
Ryan shifts uncomfortably and slams the door shut, his dick hard in his pants.
*
So, maybe Ryan has been avoiding Brendon, it's not hard even though they live together. He can admit it though. Brendon won't admit that he's avoiding Ryan, no way, because he's not.
*
"Why the fuck can't you just deal?" Brendon demands, his hand tight around Ryan's wrist. Ryan stares at him, his eyes filled to the brim with pure loathing. He wretches his hand away and rubs at the skin; his delicate features written with anger. He glares holes into the carpet from underneath his bangs. "Look at me!" Brendon demands. "Why can't you deal?!"
"Maybe I don't want to," Ryan snaps, his head pulling up, revealing his solid countenance. Brendon's face slides into an uncomfortable looking shocked-faced. Ryan slides down the wall as Brendon walks away and slings himself onto the bed; a weighty sigh escaping his chest.
"I'm sure you could manage it," Brendon says. Ryan watches from where he's sitting on the floor, against the far wall. He watches as Brendon's body stretches on the mattress in exasperation. Ryan wonders how he can want some one so bad, but fight with them so much. He glances at his palm, then snaps it shut, watching the skin stretch over the knuckles. "You do ignore everything," Brendon's still talking.
"I fucking hate that you assume everything, Brendon," Ryan shoots back; he lets his hand curl and uncurl on his knee.
"I fucking hate that you can't handle anything, Ryan," Brendon says his name as if he's a chewed up piece of meat.
"What the fuck am I suppose to do?" Ryan demands, his voice sharp.
"I really don't know," Brendon snaps, his hand raising, then falling onto the bed with a heavy sound. "Maybe you should fucking figure it out." Brendon swings his legs over the side of the bed, sends Ryan a look, and just leaves.
"Fuck you!" Ryan shouts after him.
*
"Audrey's pregnant," is all Brendon says.
*
Jac passes out in the bathtub, her anorexic frame spread delicately, picturesque and angelic. One porcelain leg is slung over the side and her platinum locks are snaked around the back of her head like a halo. Ryan peers at her with amusement before sliding the pills down his throat. Pain killers, he notes, he just doesn't know what kind. A numbing, floaty feeling washes over his body, his brain shutting down like relief.
There's three vodka bottles lined up in formation next to him. They stand at attention as he shoves another pill in his mouth, chasing it with the alcohol. One thousand one, he counts, pushing pill after pill past his lips. One thousand eight hundred forty three, he giggles into his palms. He blinks back, staring at the scar standing stark on his palm. Brendon, he thinks, then groans up at the ceiling. His head reels.
His throat stings as his vision clouds black. He sits up abruptly and shoves his fingers to the back of his throat, ejecting the pills and booze into the toilet water. His stomach heaves and rolls with the effort; his tiny frame shaking. He lays his forehead against the porcelain and cries, sobs ripping themselves from his chest forcefully.
*
"WHAT THE FUCK DID YOU DO?" Ryan wakes up to a livid Jac in his face. She's not a pretty angry. Her face flushes deep crimson like all the blood in her body is going straight to her cheeks and forehead. Ryan groans, his voice tearing and cutting in his throat; he can imagine the blood flowing down his esophagus.
"Fuck, what?" he asks, his voice clawing out of his throat. There's hard tile underneath his head, he notes. His voice sounds like he's been swallowing ammonia. Jac grabs a bottle of vodka (empty) and shoves it in his face, her own countenance twisting up on itself. She's all disorderly, her hair pushed up awkwardly, her bra straps falling off her shoulders. She grabs a handful of his hair, to wake him up.
"What did you do?" she demands again, her vowels coming out slow and smoky.
"I threw the fuck up," Ryan shouts, wrenching out of her grasp. He rubs at his scalp. She glares at him, enraged, and shoves the pill bottles in his face. He bats her hand away, irritated. "Shit, Jac, I was fucking drunk." Her eyes widen with something akin to annoyance. She just drops everything by his body, still stretched out over her bathroom floor, and turns to walk out the door. "Get over it," he adds. Her body freezes at the door.
"Is that what he told you?" she snaps, the door slamming shut behind her so hard that Ryan can feel the reverberations through the tile.
"Yes, it is!" he hollers at the closed door, then drops his head so it crashes against the tile.
*
"Where were you?" Brendon asks. Ryan sees the black ring around the lower half of his eye; the ugly, crawling bruise in his cheek. Anger burns through Ryan's stomach, and he casts a fleeting glance at his palm.
"I was getting a blow job," he snaps, not his wittiest comeback, but he can pretend. Brendon eyes him with annoyance.
"No, really."
"Yeah, really," because Ryan isn't even going to admit he tried to kill himself. Of course, Jac's bony figure comes into view with her fist clenched all tiny and off-white.
"Did he tell you?" she questions, casting Ryan a sly look. Ryan's stomach sinks down to his feet. The side of her pink lips quirks up. Ryan grabs her wrist quickly, his grip tightening around the bones.
"Say anything and you're so dead," he threatens, low in her ear. He's smiling, so Brendon doesn't think anything of it. Jac gives him a quick, wide-eyed look and shuts her mouth.
"Tell me what?" Brendon questions. Jac just twinkles and skips away, humming a tune under her breath. Ryan's chest deflates as he lets the air out. "Tell me what?" Brendon asks again, his tone more demanding. Ryan just sends him a look that means, 'shut up'; butterflies still chasing each other in his stomach.
"Oh," Jac's back, her expression even more mischievous. "Rybear," and she smiles as his eyes turn deadly at the nickname. "You forgot all this at my house." She chucks a couple of pill bottles at his feet, smirking, smiling, laughing as they roll on the tile. She walks up to him daintily and hands him the empty bottle of vodka.
The glass smashes and explodes and shatters to the floor as it hits the doorframe by her head. "Bitch," he says, and feels the tear and crack in his voice.
"What the fuck?" Brendon grabs at Ryan's wrist, almost clawing, forceful. "What the hell?" Ryan wrenches himself from Brendon's grasp and just glares at him.
"You wouldn't give a shit anyway," he says.
*
"I can't fucking believe you," Brendon says, his voice low against the dull roar of the thunderstorm outside. Inside, Ryan can practically feel the rain in the air.
"What," he asks. He forgot about his suicide attempt.
"Fucking pills and booze Ryan," Brendon growls. Ryan looks up, and Brendon's just staring at him. His brow wrinkles as he tries to think of a comeback, something to justify his actions. "What if you hadn't thrown up?" Brendon's voice is almost breaking, tittering on a scary edge of insecurity.
"Then, I dunno," Ryan shrugs, trying not to notice how much concern has taken up space in Brendon's eyes. "I'd be dead, or in the hospital." Suddenly Brendon's right there, his arms wrapped around Ryan, almost too hard.
"What the fuck were you thinking?" He demands, stepping back, but letting his hand slide down to Ryan's, catching their fingers together.
"About you," Ryan says, his voice is too firm.
"What?"
"About you, and your precious little Audrey." Ryan's voice is almost straining to stay quite. George and Grace are home tonight, he can't scream and yell. A confused look still adorns Brendon's face. "I don't like it," Ryan says, slowly.
"Why not?" Brendon snaps, his grip tightening on Ryan's hand slightly.
"She's taking you away from me," Ryan says. He knows it sounds too rehearsed, too out of place, too practiced. So, maybe he's lying.
"Come on," Brendon says, giving Ryan an unsteady smile, "we're brothers, nothing's going to take us away from each other."
"We're not brothers," Ryan mutters firmly, slipping his hand out of Brendon's. Brothers would make everything so, so, so very wrong (even though it is, he doesn't like admitting that). "We're step-brothers, and she's going to take you away from me." Brendon sighs, hefty and weighty. He takes Ryan's chin in his hand and kisses him so gently that butterflies swoop around Ryan's stomach.
"No one will get between us," Brendon says, his voice soft and sweet. "I love you."
"I love you too," Ryan says, resting his forehead against Brendon's. "You don't even know."
*
George breaks Grace's leg and arm.
*
Their therapist looks down her nose at them, and Ryan can see the wheels in her head rotating. He would laugh, but it's not funny. He watches Brendon's foot bounce, rapid and idle. Their therapist just stares, then clears her small voice. Her eyes sweep their faces, going from Brendon's broken nose, to Ryan's bruised eyes.
"You two are," she hesitates, as if she cares, "odd." She repositions her weight to her other leg, shifting uncomfortably. "Usually, two people in such a domestic situation would shy away from violence or violent situations. You two seem to embrace the tense atmosphere, giving into the circumstances and reducing yourselves to violence." Brendon blinks. Ryan feels a smile prodding at his lips.
"Why are you smiling Ryan?" She asks, her pen standing to attention immediately.
"The way I see it," he says, peering at her. "We just take it out on each other." He turns his head and winks at Brendon; a faint pink flashes across Brendon's features as his foot stops bouncing.
*
"Maybe next time you can really off yourself and do us a favor," Brendon growls, but slams Ryan into a wall anyway, his mouth hot against Ryan's.
*
Ryan watches from the window as Brendon tells her. Audrey's cheeks are flushed, stained with the blood that's pulsing under her skin. Even from the window he can see the tears flowing and flowing. Globs of mascara become liquid glitter as she sobs. Her knees shake slightly in her mini-skirt.
Brendon looks almost regretful as he tells her. Ryan can imagine his voice, rehearsed and lacking emotion, telling her they can't be together. He'll take care of the baby though, he'll help her. Ryan can see where Brendon's lips form the word 'love' and wonder if it's because of him, or her.
'I don't love you anymore,' or 'I love some one else'.
Whichever it is, a new wave of tears takes over her convulsing body. Brendon puts his hands under her elbows to keep her steady. She falls on him with a desperate kiss. He kisses back before releasing her and shaking his head.
'I can't,' Ryan can see him say. Tears are clinging to her hair like raindrops.
*
"She was crying," is the first thing Brendon says when he lays on the bed they share. Ryan bites his lip in faux-sympathy and runs his hands along Brendon's sides. "She said we should stay together," Brendon says. Ryan nods, but kisses along Brendon's neck, biting at his ear and breathing in slick words.
"I don't agree," he says. His hand travels to Brendon's belt, undoing it. "I think you're mine," and when he draws back he has the smoothest smile on his lips. "I think we should be together," he kisses Brendon, their mouths slipping together hotly. "Forever."
*
"She killed herself," is all Brendon says.
Then, Ryan figures it ends with Audrey.
"So, forever?" he questions, and hold out his palm to Brendon. The palm with the scar, the palpable promise.
"Forever baby."
I'd rather run the other way than stay and see
The smoke and who's still standing when it clears