Transition: Drunken Sexytimes -> Desert Confession
Back to introduction and notes || Back to story overview
“Get out.”
It sounds like screaming, even though Brendon’s voice is barely loud enough for him to make out the words. His eyes are dark and blank, his face closed off and pale in the morning light.
Ryan wants to say something, wants to argue or apologise or plead or something else that will make Brendon not look at him like this, as though he is balancing on a razor edge, one slight misstep away from falling apart.
Mostly, Ryan just wants to take him in his arms, hold him tight and press little kisses into his neck until it all goes away.
“I said, get the fuck out!”
Oh now I do recall, we were just getting to the part
Where the shock sets in, and the stomach acid
Finds a new way to make you get sick…
Ryan leaves without a word, a strange, all-encompassing numbness settling in, adding a dreamlike quality to everything. He’s dressed and gone from the house in minutes, not sure how it even happened, but there he is, walking down the street in the hot Vegas sun, pain and nausea warring in his chest.
He stops at the first bench he sees, slumps down, lets shock get a proper hold of him.
I don’t want to finally get to love you just to give you up.
It doesn’t have to be like that.
Then how would it be?
With shaking hands, he reaches for his phone, calls a cab and leans his head into his hands while he waits for it to arrive, wondering how the hell he will ever be able to fix this.
Next part