When I wake up the next morning, the sun is pouring in through the small windows, and a scrawny, gangly body (who I can only assume is Ryan) is sprawled halfway on top of me, legs intertwined messily with mine. And it's like hey, at least he's not mad at me in his sleep too.

It takes a few seconds to realize the reasoning for my awakening is Spencer and Jon chatting away and giggling on the couch. And seriously, do they ever think about anyone besides themselves? I mean, hello, we are trying to sleep here, thanks.

They burst out in a loud fit of giggles, not even trying to muffle it, and yeah, they totally don't. Ryan shifts on top of me, jabbing me with one of his many bones that poke straight out from his body. "You guys," he whines, stifling a yawn into my shoulder. "Can you please shut up or go somewhere else? Some people are trying to sleep here!"

"Oh, well, maybe if you hadn't stayed up fucking your boyfriend in my grandma's bathroom you wouldn't be so tired," Spencer retorts.

Touché.

Jon bursts out laughing, and Spencer immediately follows. God, they're such a bunch of pricks. Seriously, get your own brain for once or something.

Ryan tenses above me, like the events of last night had completely slipped his sleepy mind until Spencer had to so nicely bring it up. That bitch.

I close my eyes, and brace myself, praying he doesn't start yelling and accusing me of giving him AIDS again (which, for the record, I didn't, thank you).

Ryan takes this time to roll off of me completely, and doesn't reply as he presses his face into the flat pillow next to my head.

I let out an inward groan, and grip my hair in frustration, forcing myself not to reach over and smack some sense into the boy, because he's just being a stupid drama queen like always and it's driving me insane, okay? I mean, really, he was the one who came upstairs with the intention of us having sex (he made that pretty obvious, when he attacked me before I even had the bathroom door open) and didn't think, hey maybe I should bring a condom, so I don't get all the STD's Brendon apparently has. And it wasn't like I remembered the condom the whole time, and just decided not to say anything. I just forgot, exactly like him, and he knows that too, but no, I get all the blame because I just so happened to have slept with one guy in my whole entire life before he came along. Which, of course, must mean I'm HIV positive, or have some other incurable STD because of it, cause sleeping with one guy (who was my boyfriend for a year) must mean I'm a huge slut.

My boyfriend is so dense sometimes.

"I take it, it didn't go so well?" Spencer questions, and I don't have to look up to see that stupid little smirk of his twisted onto his lips.

I want to punch him in the mouth.

"Spencer." I sigh, warning. I take one last look at the back of Ryan's head before sitting up, and scratching at my belly. "Just let it go for right now, okay?"

"No," he refuses, all stubbornly, because of course, that's just so Spencer. "You guys fucked at my grandma's. You really can't ever tell me to let it go." He sits up too, and looks down at us, his hair sticking up in every which direction. I can't decide if its sex hair or just plain bed hair, then again, I'd rather not know. "So, what? Who couldn't get it up?"

That must be enough for Ryan, because instantly snaps his head up and glares over at his best friend, eyes flaming. "Shut the fuck up, Spencer!" He snaps, and yeah, I can practically see red lasers of death shooting out from his eyes. "Just fucking let it go, okay? We don't want to talk about, and it's none of your fucking business no matter if we fucking did it in your grandma's bathroom or in front of your fucking grandma, okay? I don't even care if we fucking did it in front of you! So, just shut up." His face is all splotchy, and beat red by the time he finishes, with eyes to match. He doesn't wait for an answer before he's diving back into his pillow, face first, pulling the sleeping bag all the over his head. And holy, just woah, I don't think I've heard Ryan swear that much like, ever. I mean, I didn't even think it was possible... not even during sex, and trust me, that tells you a lot.

Spencer looks down at us, a shocked look on his face. Okay, so, maybe shocked is an understatement, it's more like, wide-eyes, jaw-dropped, what-the-fuck-did-that-actually-just-happen look. Jon slowly pulls himself to sit up also, and wears about the same face as his boyfriend. I groan out loud, forcing myself not to start jumping up and down, screaming, "I don't have AIDS! I didn't give you AIDS! I'm never going to give you AIDS, damnit! So, just suck it up already before I punch you in the face!" But I know this won't solve anything, but instead only make it worse, so I keep my mouth shut, and teeth clenched.

Finally, I turn to look at Spencer and Jon, who are still looking at me like, what the hell was that about? I shake my head like; you really don't want to know. They exchange anxious glances before looking back at me, and shrugging in unison. Then that's that.

Spencer eventually slides off the couch, Jon following close behind and says, cautiously, like he's scared Ryan's going to go all like, ape-shit on him again, if he talks to fast or really at all (which I really don't blame him for), "We're just going to go eat breakfast..." He pauses, and looks over at Jon, then back at me like he's trying to get approval to go on or something. Finally, he takes a deep breath, and finishes by saying, "So, if you're like, hungry or something... you could like, come upstairs or later, you know. That works too."

I nod, and Ryan stays completely still under the blanket. They don't even wait for an answer before they're dashing up the stairs. And, I'm kind of like, oh my god, my boyfriends that terrifying he freaked out Spencer, who's his best friend and champion ice queen himself.

At first, I really consider running up the stairs with them and leaving Ryan to mope and be a drama queen by himself, because I'm hungry, and well, as stated before, Ryan is being a big bitch. But, I figure, even though he probably doesn't want to be around me right now (cause I apparently gave him AIDS), he'd probably end up throwing another bitch fit if I left him by himself. So, I sit there, stomach growling as I stare down at the sleeping bag he's currently buried under.

It's completely silent for a few minutes, except for every few minutes when Ryan shifts, and the sleeping bag crinkles, and screeches, or makes whatever that annoying sound is. So, I take the time to sit and ponder, wondering how I'm going to convince Ryan I am clean, and that he's got nothing to worry about. I figure I'm screwed until I go and get tested... unless, I do have something... Oh god, no Brendon, shut up. You don't. You're perfectly clean, and negative.

I take a deep breath, and lay down; resting my head on my elbow right beside what I assume is Ryan's head. "Ry..." I start, voice soft.

No answer.

"Ryan, don't ignore me."

Again, I receive no answer.

I sigh, and clench my fists together. "I know you're not asleep, I'm not stupid, alright?"

Again, there's no reply.

My first instinct is to just totally flip the fuck out on him, but instead, I take a deep breath in an attempt to calm myself. I'd rather save the freak out for later when we're in the privacy of my (or is it ours?) room anyway. "Okay, you know what?" I ask as I pick myself up, and stare down at him with fists still clenched at my sides. "I'm going to go upstairs and eat breakfast with Spencer and Jon. You come up when you decide to stop being a dramatic, little bitch."

I hear Ryan suck in a breath, and I stop and wait a few seconds, heart pounding in my chest, because yeah, he's so totally gonna kill me now. But after a few seconds, nothing happens; he just remains there, with the blanket over his head.

I curse under my breath, loud enough for him to hear, and stomp like a five year old all the way up the stairs.

- - -

On the way home two hours later, Ryan doesn't say a word to me. I even try to talk to him a few times, and reasonably too, but he just 'mhm's or doesn't say anything at all. I bite my tongue, forcing back all the screaming and yelling I want to do at him for being such a stupid, idiotic, bitchy, moronic, dramatic prick, because I know fighting in the car is never good.

But, seriously, like grr, is this actually a joke? If it is, it isn't funny. It was one thing to be upset about it last night, but now he's just taking it too far. It's becoming so freaking ridiculous.

I swear the car doesn't even come to a complete stop in my driveway before Ryan's jumping out of the car, slamming the door behind him, and storming up to my front door with our overnight bag over his shoulder. He's already inside my house with the door slammed behind him, before my feet are even hitting the driveway. I mutter probably every profanity in the book as I follow Ryan's path, kicking a small pebble in anger.

When I get inside, Ryan's nowhere in sight, but my mom's standing there at the landing of the stairs, with a confused expression on her face. "What's wrong with Ryan?"

I answer my mom by shaking my head, because I know if I open my mouth to try and speak, I'll just end up screaming, or cursing, or just, I don't know, fucking crying. I close the door behind me, and head up the stairs to my room without a word.

I've barely got the door shut behind me, before I'm practically screaming for all of Vegas to hear, "What the fuck is your goddamn fucking problem?!"

Ryan looks up at me from the bed where he's unpacking our bag. His face instantly goes beat red, as he stands up straight, and narrows his eyes in thin little slits. "What the hell do you think?"

"If this is about last night, you really need to stop being such a goddamn fucking drama queen, attention whore, whatever the hell you're trying to be, and get over it! I don't have AIDS, alright?! And you know it! I've slept with one guy before you. One guy! And we always used protection, not once did we forget. You're making it seem like I was some big slut before you, and slept around with like fifty-million-gazillion guys!" I cry, and fucking just, ugh, I think I'm about to kick a hole in the wall or something I'm so furious. I don't even care how loud I'm yelling, or that my parents are just downstairs and can most definitely hear.

"I'm sorry that I'm worried, alright?" he snaps. "It's not like you were the most... purest person around!"

"Oh my god!" I mumble under my breath, and then, I just... laugh. Because this is seriously just so ridiculous and freaking infuriating that I can't really do much more than that. I mean, seriously. Purest? "You are fucking insane! Don't even act like you're all high and mighty, and I don't know, the fucking Virgin Mary! I mean, seriously, who do you even think you are?! Do I have to remind you that you have sex with me? Willingly? Isn't it you that begs me every freakin' day to fuck you? How goddamn fucking pure is that?! So don't even try to give me that crap!"

Ryan stares at me, silent, his eyes and face completely devoid of any emotion, which is probably the scariest thing of all. I think maybe I went a little too far...

"You're such a prick," he hisses, finally, voice shaking.

Yeah... I totally am.

"You think I have fucking AIDS !" I point out, defensively.

"I said what if you do. I didn't say you did for sure," he corrects. "It's a possibility, and you know it."

Ugh, look who's the stupid, idiotic, bitchy, moronic, dramatic prick now?

"I can't believe you'd even use the fact that I slept with you against me!" he cries, incredulously, his eyes filling up with tears. "You're so... you're so... fuck, you're so unbelievable!"

Yeah... I have no arguments for that one. I just stand there, speechless and guilty.

He walks past me, grabs onto his hoodie (or is it mine? I can't even keep track anymore) off the hook on the back of my door.

"What are you doing?" I ask.

"I'm going out," he says, voice cold as he opens my door, not sparing a look at me.

"What? Where?" I demand, following after him as he starts down the hall towards the stairs, pulling the hoodie over his head.

"Anywhere than here with you," he snaps, storming down the stairs, hood up.

"Ryan, you can't just leave!" I cry; voice rushed as I follow him down the stairs, so close I'm practically stepping on his heels. He can't just leave now while he's all mad at me. That's just not fair...

"Watch me." Once he reaches the front door, he sticks out his hand towards me, eyes red and still rimmed with tears. "Give me my keys."

"No," I refuse, folding my arms over my chest.

"It's my car!" he cries, jabbing his boney finger into my stomach. "Give them to me!"

"No! I'm not letting you drive when you're all mad like this." I shake my head, and slip my hand into my pocket, grasping the keys safely in my hand. I am not letting him leave. We need to work this out. We need to make this better and stop fighting. I don't care what we have to do. I don't care what I have to do.

He clenches his teeth together, and I swear, for a second there I'm almost positive he's going to tackle me to the floor and beat the living shit out of me (and right now, I don't doubt that he could). Instead, his face just gets more blotchy and red, and he snaps, as he turns the handle to the front door, "Fine! I'll just walk then!"

I don't have a chance to stop him before the door slams shut in my face, and I know there's no point in chasing after him.

I stand there for awhile, staring at the shut door. I have so many things racing through my mind, but yet nothing. I don't know whether I want to cry, or laugh at the whole thing. I feel numb, but at the same time so many emotions are running through me that I can't even handle it.

This isn't me and Ryan's first fight, but I'm pretty sure it's the worst.

Eventually, I pull myself from the door, and turn back towards the stairs. However, there are my parents, standing at the entrance of the living room, concern etched across their faces. They totally listened to the whole thing. One look at their expressions, and I burst out into tears.

Before they have a chance to ask any questions, I'm dashing up the stairs, into my room, slamming the door behind me and diving onto my bed in fury. However, this doesn't help any because my bed and covers, and pillows, and just everything in my stupid room reeks of Ryan, which only makes me, cry harder.

When did I turn into a girl?

Two seconds later, there's a knock at my door, and I'm not surprised.

"Go away!" I cry; voice muffled into my pillow... that smells like Ryan.

Of course, they don't. My door creaks open, and feet creep across my floor, before I feel my bed sink down at my feet. "Brendon, sweetie," my moms soothing voice starts. "What happened?"

"Mmph."

"Brendon..." she tries again, and I know my mom, she's not going to give up anytime soon.

I pull my face up from my pillow, and look over at her. I can just imagine what my face looks like, all red, and gross with tears streaming down my face. But then again, it's just my mom after all and she like, has to think I'm beautiful all the time or something, it's a rule.

"I'm such an idiot, mom!" I bawl, more tears streaming down my face. And oh my god, Ryan's the dramatic one?

My mom scooches over, pulls my head into her shoulder and begins to pet my hair in a way that only moms can pull off. "Oh, Brendon, no you're not."

"I am!" I cry snotting up her nice, purple blouse.

"Just tell your dear ol' mom what happened," she says, shushing me.

"What? You couldn't figure it out yourself from us screaming up here?" I ask, and sniffle and hiccup some more.

She shakes her head. "I just heard a lot of screaming, but I didn't hear the exact words."

"Oh," I choke out. Take one, big deep breath, and then for some reason, before I even have a chance to think it over and stop myself, I'm blurting out everything. I sob, and shake throughout the whole story, stopping every few words to hiccup or sniff. I tell her all the way from us having sex in Spencer's grandma's bathroom, and then realizing we didn't have a condom, to Ryan throwing a hissy fit thinking I gave him AIDS to what I said to him in here. I'm too freaking upset to even care how awkward it is that I'm telling my mom this.

She keeps quiet the whole time, and just sits there and pets my head.

After I finish she takes a moment, and the first thing she asks is, "But, why would Ryan think you have HIV if you've never slept with anyone before?"

My heart stops. Oh, right... that... yeah, I'm screwed.

"I - uh... um... I don't -"

She lets me blubber on for a few more seconds, before sighing, and going, "Brendon, I know."

"You know?" I question, frowning. I swear, for a second there, my heart stops completely.

"I know you had a boyfriend before Ryan," she says, all calm and nonchalantly, still patting at my hair while I just sit there, head resting on her shoulder, eyes huge with shock. Because, um, WHAT? "Really, honey. I'm your mother. Did you really think you could have a relationship for a year and not have me know? You're not that clever, sweetie, sorry."

"B-but..." WHAT? "H-how? Wh-why didn't you -" I start, and then lift my head up to stare at her. Oh my goodness, I don't think I'm breathing anymore.

"Oh, you silly teenagers. When are you ever going to realize that we mothers know everything?" She shakes her head, a small smile on her lips.

And, I'm like, huh? How are you smiling over this when I'm experiencing five heart attacks at once?

"Didn't you think that at some point in the whole year, I'd call Jon's house to check up on you? And that when I did, Jon wouldn't always pick up to cover for you?" she asks.

"B-but, Jon never said anything."

"Yes, because he didn't know I knew..." she points out, like, duh.

Oh my god. How did I not know my mom is so smart, and clever, and just, so sneaky?! All this time I thought I thought I was the sneaky one, but nope, not even close.

"Then... then why didn't you ever say anything to me?" I ask, nose scrunched in confusion.

"Well, at first I was going to, but then it turned into a game, like how long it was going to take you to tell me yourself," she explains. "Plus, for some odd reason, I trusted your judgment, and that you weren't dating some crazy psycho who was going to chop you up into pieces. I figured the only reason you weren't telling me was the age or something like that..."

I blush. How does she know everything? "Yeah..."

"Mmhmm," she nods, smiling in defeat. "And how old was he?"

I blush even harder, looking down at my feet as I mumble, "Twenty-three."

She shakes her head but doesn't say anything, and I still can't believe this. I mean, my mom knew about Ethan the whole time but she never said anything? She didn't ground me for lying to her and sneaking off downtown to have sex with my twenty-three year old boyfriend? I mean, I thought my mom was pretty cool, but not that cool.

"Yeah..." she starts, almost humorously, and I've totally almost completely forgotten the fight with Ryan cause I'm just bursting with love for my mom right now... but then she says, "By the way, you're totally grounded for that." And that love just totally disappears.

"What?! How?!" I demand.

"You heard me, and well, easy, I just told you, didn't I?" she smirks.

"You can't just... ground me! That was ages ago!"

"Yeah, but I was waiting till you told me yourself. It's more fun."

"Mom!" I cry. "That's not even fair! What if I never told you?!"

"Well, then I would have found another way to ground you, but... subtly," she replies. Then she just gets off of my bed, and starts towards the door.

"B-but..." I stutter, dumbfounded. I mean what?! She can't just do that! That doesn't even work! That's just... no.

My mom sends me one last smirk, but before leaving my room she adds, "And, don't worry, Ryan will get over it." She goes to close the door, but halfway, she stops and goes, "Oh, and I'm making an appointment for you to get tested. And if you have something, I swear..." She doesn't have to finish her sentence because I think I have a good enough idea.

All I can do is nod, because I'm still so shocked, and confused, and just, WHAT?!?!

She gives me one last look before closing the door completely this time, leaving me alone to wallow in my confusion, and anger... and just, self-pity. And I mean, there was my mom, being all great and awesome, and comforting when I was crying over my fight with Ryan, then she lays that news on me, and then just leaves?

I take back everything I said about my mom being cool. She's cruel, and terrible, and just a plain out meanie bitch!

I sit there for a long time. I don't know if its minutes, or hours, or what. But I sit there, completely dumbfounded, and just self-hating on myself.

At some point, I end up dozing off, and when I wake up the sun is just going down outside of my windows. The first thing I do is feel around for Ryan beside me, but my hand just lands on my cold, empty mattress. I snap up, momentarily freaking out, cause I'm still like, half-asleep, but after a second my brain kicks back in, and I remember, oh yeah, he's god knows where with god knows who, pissed out of his mind at me.

I let out a tiny whimper as I fall back down onto my back, pulling the comforter over my head, and then... well, then I cry some more.