Ryan’s not crazy. He knows it, William knows it, and he’s pretty sure that this psychiatrist, she knows it, too.
“There’s no need to yell, Ryan.” She’s a bitch.
He glares. “I’m not yelling .”
She raises a perfectly plucked, dark eyebrow. “Then what would you call this?”
He hates this so, so much. He swears he’d die just to be back in his 10 by 8 foot cell with William. “I’m emphasising.”
She doesn’t look impressed. Bitch. “We just think it’d be better for you, here, where you can get some treatment-,”
“I don’t need any treatment!” He’s yelling, screaming at her now, and the terror expands her eyes as she stands, stumbles away from him. He’s gaining on her, each step taking him further into the darkness, when four thick, strong arms grip hold of his wrists and pull him away.
One, two, and a needle is forced into his arm. Three, four, five, and his vision blurs. Six, and he’s limp in his gaoler’s arms.
***
He remembers how all this started.
He was walking home from school one night, late, when someone grabbed him and pulled him into an alleyway not three blocks from his home. He tried to scream, but there’s a hand over his mouth, silencing any noise he might have made.
“You shut up. Shut up.” His attacker hissed, and the waistband of his jeans cut into his hips. Ryan tried to punch him, tried to scream for help, but there was no use.
It all faded to black.
***
And now he’s here, in Riversmeet Mental Institute. It’s sparkling clean, everything is white and everybody’s the same, everybody’s a robot.
***
Three days afterwards he was talking to William about it.
“I-I can’t remember what happened, Bill.” He whispered, rubbing a shaking hand against his forehead.
William patted him on the shoulder, smiling a secret smile. “Don’t worry about it, Ry. It’s sorted.”
Ryan looked up at that, and is about to speak – what did he mean? – when the front door opened and a swarm of policemen flooded in.
“Down on the ground! Now, get down!”
The orders were coming from all directions. Ryan, eyes wide and horror flooding through his veins, drops to his knees and from there to the floor, cheek pressed against the carpet. One cop knelt hard on his back as he wrenched Ryan’s arms back behind him to slap handcuffs on his wrists.
Dimly, Ryan can hear words (“arrested… suspected murder… right to remain…evidence…”) but his brain was just searching for williamwilliamwilliam, who he couldn’t see anywhere. Ryan groaned as he was pulled to his feet. Even the certainty that he’s innocent didn’t help, and within a second of being dragged from his own house, he passed out.
***
William laughs as they’re dragged into a room with two beds, two chairs, and white, white walls. “Don’t worry, Ry. This is going to be fun!” He claims, clapping his hands together. Ryan tries to believe him.
***
They convict him for murdering the man in the alley. His name had been David, David Reeve. They told him that Ryan had beaten him to death with the lid of a big, silver, metal dustbin. Ryan whispers that he didn’t do it, but they have forensics and a bloody t-shirt – his bloody t-shirt - found under his bed, which prove him wrong.
He’s in a cell for six months before they noticed him talking to William.
***
He meets the other patients. Some of them seem pretty normal. He wonders what’s wrong with them. William’s whispering in his ear, trying to get him to scream, but Ryan just bites his lip and shakes each hand presented to him.
***
“So.” Pete’s leering, his teeth sharp and white and dangerous in the fluorescent light of the hallways. “They say you’re kinda smart.”
Ryan shrugs noncommittally.
“Well, ain’t you?” Pete demands.
“They say I’m crazy, too.”
Pete giggles at that. “Well, ain’t you?”
***
Late that night in the white, white room, William’s talking to Ryan. “They’re all mad. You’d better keep away from them.”
“Really?” Ryan whispers, careful not to wake Brendon, his roommate. Brendon’s not Ryan’s kind of crazy – he’s as sane as they come. But Ryan’s seen the scars on Brendon’s wrist, he knows the reason why he’s here.
William’s staring at Brendon’s sleeping form, too. “Maybe I should kill him as well.”
Ryan jerks upright, dropping the book he’s reading. “What?”
“I’m collecting quite a list. David Reeve, Josh Harper, Ben Yeung…” Ryan’s whimpering, pressing his hands over his ears. He doesn’t want to hear the names of the other three people who were in that car. “They said – they said it swerved .”
William’s sitting on the chest of drawers, watching him impassively. “They hurt you, Ryan, all the way through high school. So I took care of it.”
“Christ, goddammit.” He swears. “Don’t say things like that, jerk.” Ryan snaps.
“Ryan?” He whips around to see Brendon sitting up in bed, looking frightened. “Who’re you talking to?” He asks timidly.
Ryan turns, only to see that William’s disappeared.
He scowls. “Nobody.”
***
Ryan can remember his sophomore year.
Him and Spencer, his ex best friend, had skipped a lesson – Physics, English? – to sit in the middle of the empty sports field. Spencer took Ryan’s right hand, pulling hard as he gets to his feet. He ended up toppling on Ryan, and they stared into each other’s eyes in slight shock. There was only a small gap between their faces, and Ryan could feel Spencer’s breath on his mouth. Ryan’s eyes flickered from Spencer’s to his lips and back to his eyes. And Spencer got it, just like that, and he closed the space between them, pressing his lips to Ryan’s. Ryan really couldn’t ignore the fact that his best friend is making him feel so good, so nice, and he just leaned into Spencer’s touch, fingers trailing down his face.
They eventually pull away.
“Wow.” Ryan murmured. And smiled.
***
Ryan, he hates it when people call him crazy.
His second evening there, some of the patients ask him what it’s like in the outside world. William’s sitting to his left, glaring at them. Ryan can’t stop glancing towards him every couple of seconds. He looks murderous. Ryan shrugs, smiling slightly. They persist.
And then, when he curls up into a tiny ball, digging the heels of his hands into his eyes, they exchange knowing glances. They mutter a few sentences – Ryan can’t hear the precise wording, but he can guess what they’re saying – and move away.
He hates it here.
***
Him and Spencer, they don’t last long. Ryan’s dad found out and locked him in the closet for kissing a boy, after beating him long enough that he’d remember his lesson, of course. Ryan was always scared after that, prone to blacking out, and he often didn’t see Spencer for weeks on end.
Turns out Spencer had started a band, with a couple of guys from a nearby school. Ryan felt betrayed – they’d been playing together since middle school, for Chris’sakes.
When he hadn’t spoken to Spencer for three months he gave up.
***
One of the nurses comes in to his and Brendon’s room about a week since he arrived and asks him to look after Brendon. Apparently he hasn’t been all that happy recently. Ryan stares at him, mouth wide open. ‘Cause Brendon’s right there. Plus – why should he do anything?
“Why should I?” He forces out.
The nurse looks taken aback. “He’s your roommate.”
A harsh giggle escapes his lips. William’s right by his ear, whispering words, to scream and shout. They spill through Ryan’s lips. “Why should I stop any whiney emo kid from offing himself?”
There’s a gasp from the other side of the room. Brendon’s wide eyes are piercing right through him. Even the nurse looks shocked. “I’m not fucking nice. And I really don’t want to help you. Or him.”
Everything’s getting darker. He’s losing control and William’s gaining it. “We’re murderers. We’ve killed people. We don’t – we won’t-,”
Ryan disappears into the black.
***
After that his psychiatrist gives him a prescription and makes sure he takes it, once every morning and once every evening, so he doesn’t see William for a little while. He’s given Valium, as well, so he’s considered safe enough to wander the hospital grounds, dull eyed. His thoughts come so much slower now that he’s lost count of how many days – weeks? – he has been here.
The others in the hospital are wary of him now. They know he was in prison, and in prison for murder at that. Sure, these people are crazy – but when one of their own (Brendon) is hurt, they get protective.
Ryan is tired of listening to Brendon cry himself to sleep each night.
Especially since he now no longer had William for company.
***
Ryan last saw Spencer a couple of months before his arrest. He’d been walking through the park when he’d seen Spencer on a bench to his left, crying. It didn’t matter to Ryan that he’d been abandoned – he was at Spencer’s side in seconds.
“Are you okay?”
“Yeah, I’m-,” Spencer looked up and froze. “Oh. Ryan.”
Ryan smiled slightly. “Hey.”
“I-its nothing, really.”
It’s then Ryan first saw William. A tall, thin-as-a-stick teenage boy leaning against a tree, arms folded and wearing a smirk. Ryan ignored him and turned back to Spencer. “Really?”
He sighed. “No. My friend – our singer – tried to kill himself.”
“I’m sorry.” And he was, but not to the point that he could forget what Spencer’s done to him. He turned away, towards William. Who speaks. “Leave him there.” The words echo in Ryan’s head, even though this boy is yards away. Ryan shivers. Something feels… not quite right. He turned back around, towards Spencer.
“So, how are things? Since you transferred?” There was a steely note in his voice he didn’t recognise.
Spencer – who was still fucking crying, God – looked up, startled. “Good – I guess.” He paused. “You?”
“Shitty.” Its true. The bullying had escalated now he no longer had a protector.
“Oh.”
The world had gone blurry. Ryan blinked once, twice, but it didn’t help. He tried to stand up. A strangled noise escaped his throat as he surrendered to the darkness.
He’d thought he was ill until he got to know William.
***
Ryan really hates the thunder, always has and always will.
Outside the wind was whipping the trees around and lightning was flashing across the midnight black sky as thunder echoed across the road and rooftops of Vegas.
Inside Ryan is lying in bed, shaking and crying silently. With every loud crash of thunder Ryan shakes and curls himself tighter into the soft blanket covering his quivering body.
Ryan isn’t the brave one, isn’t supposed to be the brave one, never was.
Another roll of thunder and another gasp of surprise and fright. William’s returned. Ryan isn’t sure whether he’s terrified or ecstatic. Thing is – he’s not quite here. It’s like he’s hovering round the outskirts of Ryan’s awareness.
“Ryan?” Ryan’s eyes snap open. Brendon’s standing in the doorway. “You okay?”
As if transfixed, Ryan’s head moves slowly from left to right.
Brendon moves forwards, kneels on the edge of the bed. “What’s the matter?”
Ryan’s gaze flickers towards the window and back.
“William…” The word takes everything out of Ryan. It physically hurts him and he begins to curl in on himself. Brendon stares at him for a moment, shuffling forwards so his knees are gently touching Ryan’s side.
Eventually he speaks. “It’ll be okay, Ryan. It’s only noise.”
“I’m scared.” Two words whispered, covered by yet another loud bang of thunder and followed by a broken sob. Brendon lies down instantly beside him and wraps an arm around Ryan’s waist. Ryan tenses, but doesn’t move.
“I promise, it’ll be over soon.”
Ryan has learnt not to trust any promises, but Brendon wasn’t lying. It is over, within minutes, but Ryan and Brendon still don’t move.
***
One Thursday evening, a nurse came in and handed Ryan a thin pink slip.
Turns out in the morning he was getting a visitor.
It’s his mother.
“Hello, George.” She starts, hands in her lap, shoulders thrust backwards.
“The name’s Ryan.” He says.
“I came to see you…,” it’s weird, how people think that because he’s crazy they don’t have to listen to him. “…I can’t believe you did that.”
“I didn’t.”
She sighs, puffs out her chest, her lungs, expands her ribcage in an act of annoyance. Ryan’s mother is a 5’6, round little thing, with more attitude than intelligence, more pent up anger than comfort, maybe the after effect of three failed marriages and a failed son. “I don’t want to hear about this, this William. ”
His eyes flick upwards. He shrugs. “What do you want to hear?”
“Are you getting better?”
“Sure.” Ryan says, eyes closed.
“They’re good to you here, are they?”
He shrugs again. He’s not going to bore her with his tales of injustice and woe.
“Well. I’ll see you soon.”
Finally.
***
He remembers a time, back when he was small enough to hold his mother’s hand, and she used to always take him to the park on weekends, since they didn’t have enough money to do much else.
He’d sit on the swings for hours, back and forth and back and forth, and maybe, maybe he felt he could fly away, you know, if he tried hard enough. Maybe he’d go over the handlebars, launch off the rubber seat, and fly as hard and as far away as possible, live a life on the moon or on the stars, somewhere away from his mother and his father and school and just, and life.
***
He begins to see William again, more frequently. Ryan’s less trusting, this time – he remembers what the psychiatrist said, about him not needing William anymore – but, well, William’s always been persuasive. Although this time Ryan feels empowered – maybe William’s word is not the law.
Around the same time Brendon’s told that exercising will lift his depression – it’ll distract his thoughts. Ryan counts the press ups for him.
Brendon jumps to his feet. “I’m starving.”
“You just ate!” Brendon just blinks at him, as if that were any kind of excuse. Ryan sighs. “You can go and ask for a snack, but ten more press ups first.”
Brendon turns towards Ryan, eyes pleading. “C’mon, I’ll die!”
Ryan tries to bite back a sarcastic comment from William. “Brendon-,”
“I know. Just two more.”
“Five” Without waiting for agreement – Brendon would concede, and they both knew it – Brendon drops to the floor. Ryan cracks open his novel, the words registering like the view from a car window – a stream without any individual characteristics.
When he looks up, Brendon’s gone.
The next day, he and Brendon are talking. Its about nothing, stupid little trivial comments and mundane jokes, when Brendon holds out his forearm, pushing away the sleeve of his sweater, where a web of scars net the flesh. “Sometimes I have to cut myself,” he confesses, “because I’m so sure I won’t bleed.”
Ryan swallows and hesitantly reaches out, gently brushing over the scars with a fingertip, and then just as slowly wraps his hand around Brendon’s wrist, covering the old wounds. He’s too nervous to look up. “I’m scared,” Ryan says, his voice swollen and unfamiliar. “of losing William.”
Brendon curls his fingers around Ryan’s sweaty palm.
Things change between them after that.
Ryan isn’t so scared to not crawl into Brendon’s bed after a particularly bad day, and Brendon is always willing to be near him. It’s tough, it really is, to get up in the morning when he has someone so fucking special next to him.
Thing is, however infatuated Ryan may be with the boy, things had never really progressed beyond a platonic level. And even Ryan, doped up on pills as he is, can see that a relationship could never work. C’mon – they’re living in a mental hospital. They’re crazy.
But as hard as he tries, Ryan just can’t push Brendon away.
And then-
“Ryan. I need to talk to you.” Brendon’s voice had gone all deep and rough, like he was having difficulty speaking. Ryan’s writing in his journal (to keep track of his feelings, and William), but drops the pen and looks up, gaze curious.
“Hmm?” Trying to sound aloof, but his heart rate quickens.
Brendon takes in a huge gulp of air as he bounds across the room to sit by Ryan’s feet. “I really like you.” He says bluntly, holding his gaze. “And I’m meant to be trying to be open and like, honest, so I wanted to say that.”
Ryan can’t stop a toothy grin from leaking onto his face. Sure, he has no protocol for what to do when someone drops a bombshell like that on him, but now he just trusts his instincts instead of William. Ryan swallows, leaning forwards so he’s barely centimetres from Brendon’s face. And then Brendon’s hand is behind Ryan’s neck and he’s pulling Ryan to him. Brendon kisses him, and fuck, he’s wanted this for so long. The kiss ends with both of them breathing hard. Ryan cups Brendon’s cheek in his hand. “Me too, Bren, me too.”
Brendon turns his head and kisses Ryan’s palm.
And hell, how can Ryan let go of him now?
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Author's Comments
phew. lots of italics to format that.
title; dear gravity, you held me down in this starless city. pairing; ryan/brendon, past ryan/spencer. disclaimer; don't own 'em, unfortunately. |
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Comments
This story has so many levels, which i like very much so.
Keep it up, if you catch my drift. ;D lol
--
.ǝɯɐɥs ɟo sʇǝǝɹʇs ǝɥʇ uı ǝʌı1 oʇ ʍoɥ ǝɯ ʇɥbnɐʇ noʎ -
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