By the time morning rolls around, I'm exhausted - and in more ways than one. Besides the obvious reason that I doubt I slept for even a solid hour, it's just, well, Ryan.

It's like; I don't even know what to do anymore. A part of me is telling me that maybe it's time to just end it with him. But the other (big) part of me knows that doing that would pretty much be impossible. I mean, no Ryan? I couldn't do it. Sure, he can be a dick, and he seems to be about seventy-five percent of the time lately, but what about the other like, twenty-five percent? He's still the boy that I fell head-over-heels, crazy-obsessed in love with, right?

Right.

But then comes the fact that I'm now almost positive that he's cheating on me with Dayna (See, I'm so exhausted that I can't even come up with a nasty name to call her).

I'm up, at least, a good forty-five minutes before my alarm is supposed to go off. Ryan's stretched out beside me with his leg slung over mine, breath loud and steady. At first, I run my eyes over his face, from his closed eyes, and long eyelashes sweeping over his creamy cheeks, to his thin, chapped lips partly open. I eventually have to look away because it hurts too much.

When the alarm finally goes off, the first thing Ryan does once he's awake is send a sleepy smile up at me, then press a lazy kiss to my lips. I don't stop him, but I don't kiss him back either.

"Morning," he murmurs, head falling back against the pillow.

"Yeah," I mumble, because I really don't have the energy to say anything else.

He bites his lip, and looks me over. I can't tell what the expression on his face is, but I wouldn't doubt if it was all guilt.

We get ready in silence. Ryan doesn't even try to talk to me, and I still can't decide if it's because of guilt or he knows that I'm still mad at him for ditching us and just finally gave up trying to get me to talk to him. I really, really hope it's the latter.

Once we get to the school, we almost immediately go in separate directions, only mumbling a quick, half-hearted goodbye. It feels like something is tugging on my heart, and I'm really starting to think that this is the end of our relationship.

A few people look at me as I walk down the hall, but I just shrug it off, figuring I'm just being paranoid and imagining it. Or maybe, they do it all the time and I just never noticed.

However, by the time I go to my locker and head off to homeroom, a few people turn into almost everyone I pass. They all stop and stare, and whisper and giggle. I try to tell myself that it's just about me and Ryan being together, that they still haven't gotten over it after all these weeks. I go without much success, because I know everyone did move on. It's high school, teenagers don't hang onto one thing for very long, no matter if it's gossip or clothes or even friends.

By the end of first class, nothing changes, if anything it gets worse. On my way to second class, this lowlife, scrawny, drug-addicted loser who I don't know (and really could care less) the name of, chucks a penny at my chest and goes, "Hey faggot, here's a penny, get down on your knees."

I feel my face heat up, and my throat tighten. I'm so confused as to why this is going on now, all of a sudden, that all I can really manage to come up with is a lame 'fuck you'.

Him and his brain-dead friends all laugh, and as they all pass by me to go to the smoker doors, a fat kid with long, string black hair pushes me back into the cold, metal locker behind me.

This time, I keep my mouth shut because by the looks of it, this kid could probably kill me by just sitting on me.

When I finally reach second class, I ignore the looks and whispers as best as I can as I make my way to my seat at the back of the classroom beside Jon. I breathe a sigh of relief, because it's about time I see a friendly face, who isn't whispering or snickering behind (okay, more like in front) of my back. However, he does give me a sympathetic look, and just as I'm about to ask him what the fuck is going on, the teacher comes in and tells everyone to be quiet.

I try to relax as class starts, by taking long, deep breaths, but it doesn't really go to well. My face is still burning, and my tongue feels heavy in my mouth. I can't concentrate on anything the teacher is saying, because all that's going through my mind is, what the fuck is going on?

Fifteen minutes into class, my phone vibrates in my pocket. I make sure the teachers not looking before pulling it out and resting it on my lap. It's a text from Ryan, no surprise, telling me to meet him in the basement washroom right now. I consider ignoring it completely and not going, but then I figure he must know what's going on so I raise my hand and ask for a bathroom pass.

When I get there, Ryan's sitting on the dingy floor against the far wall, his thin arms wrapped around his knees, crying.

I don't really think as I rush over to him, fall down onto the floor beside him and wrap his arms around his shoulder, pulling him into me. And okay, really, watching Ryan Ross cry is like, watching someone kick puppies. You just have to do something.

"Ry... sh. Ry," I hush, threading my fingers through his thin hair. "What's wrong? What happened?" I ask, moving my fingers from his hair, down to his wet cheek.

He looks up at me with red eyes and a runny nose. "You don't know?" he asks, dumbfounded.

"Not really," I reply, giving a half-shrug.

He shakes his head, hiccups, and then stares down at his ratty converse sliding against the tiled floor. "There's - there's this rumor... about us," he starts, and I nod for him to continue, stomach dropping, because rumors are never good, "and... well, pretty much, apparently, we both whore ourselves to support our drug addiction. And apparently we came onto people... like, some of my old guy friends from church." He shakes his head, a single tear falling down onto his pant leg. "I just can't believe it."

I just laugh. I mean, I know it's completely inappropriate, and just not the time at all, but I mean, seriously? We're drug addicted whores? Couldn't they have come up with anything better? It's just so ridiculous, that I can't help but laugh.

Ryan lifts his head to stare at me, forehead scrunched together in confusion, and probably a bit in anger. "Why the hell are you laughing about this, Brendon? Don't you care that our whole reputation is ruined? This isn't just going to go away, it's not like anyone is going to believe us if we tell them it's not true, they've already got it set in their minds. My dad's going to hear about this, and he's going to believe it too. I mean what the fuck? Who would even start a rumor like that?" he babbles out, face flushed and eyes flashing.

Now it's my turn to stare at him, and my arm just kind of drops from his shoulder, because how could he be so dumb? "Are you serious? You actually don't know?"

He hiccups, and shakes his head slowly, eyeing me.

I sigh, and stare up at the ceiling before replying with, "it was you're little friend Dayna." So, maybe I don't know for sure, but I really have no doubts that it was - obviously with some help from her little church friends.

"What?! No!" he cries, absolutely mortified that I'd even think such a thing.

I roll my eyes, and start to stand up, because fuck, he's so dense and just. Ugh. He's an idiot, and I'm done. Because of her my whole fucking school thinks I fuck people so I can get drugs, and he can't even open his fucking eyes to admit it. Because of him, my whole last month of school, ever, is ruined.

Slowly, a look of realization spreads over his face, and he stares at the wall ahead of us, face loosing any speck of color it once had in it. "Oh..." he says, and that's all.

I fall back down beside him, and grab onto his hand, because I have a feeling this wont be pretty.

"Oh my..." he says again, tears welling up in his eyes again. He looks like he's going to puke. "Oh my god." The thought crosses my mind to scold him for saying God, but I figure now's not really the time. "Last night..." he starts, and then stops to bite onto his lip and bury his face into the palms of his hands, "last night, after youth group, when I was driving her home... she tried to - she tried to kiss me."

I swear, my stomach drops all the way to my butt, the bits of my heart crashing down with it. Of course she fucking did. Now he's going to tell me that he kissed her back, and they -

"I stopped her," Ryan instantly says, pulling his face from his hands to look at me with pleading eyes. "I promise I did, Brendon. The second she went to kiss me, I stopped her. I promise you. Please don't think I did anything with her."

I look over his face for a moment, unsure. Ryan keeps his eyes on me the whole time, unblinking, he looks so worried, and I know he's telling the truth. "Okay," I say.

He gives me a small smile of relief, and squeezes onto my hand. "Thank you," he breathes.

I nod. "Okay, continue with your story."

"Oh, right. Right," he says, and stares back down at his feet as he continues, "When I stopped her, I thought - well, I was pretty positive she'd get mad, but... she was all calm about it and well..." he trails off, and the tears are back, streaming down his face all at once, "oh my god... she did do it, didn't she?"

I nod slowly, because yeah, she is a stupid, backstabbing bitch, just like I had first thought - and well, always thought.

"B-but," he splutters, "wh-why would she d-do that?"

"Because, Ryan, I told you, she's a backstabbing bitch," I reply, sighing. I'm still exhausted, maybe even more now. My eyes feel heavy, and I just want to curl up on this gross floor and go to sleep.

For the first time ever, he doesn't defend her. He just stares ahead, snot and tears running down his pretty face. I don't even know how to feel towards him right now. Should I be sympathetic? Should I be angry? Hurt? Or relieved that he finally realizes who Dayna really is?

"I gotta - I gotta get back to class," I say, picking myself up off the floor.

He looks up at me with huge, scared but yet, hurt eyes. "B-but..."

"Ryan, I have to. And so do you."

"I cant, Brendon... everyone's talking about me... and staring at me, and laughing, and just..." He shakes his head, tears still flowing. "They probably all think I went to fuck someone in the bathroom stall for my next hit!"

Yeah, probably.

"I don't know." I sigh. "It'll be okay," I say, but even as the words come out of my mouth, I really don't believe it. Not for now at least. "I'll see you at lunch, okay? Just pretend you don't care."

I leave with the image of him curled up in the dirty, dingy school bathroom, hot tears streaming down his red face.

I choke back my own tears.

- - -

I'm almost surprised when Ryan shows up at our table at lunch.

His eyes are swollen and red, and he looks absolutely wrecked. I can't decide if I want to hold him until it all goes away, or scowl and look away because he deserves it.

He kind of just falls down into the chair beside me, and stares at his brown paper bag, completely still.

I don't know what to say.

In the span of one period, it has gotten even worse. Apparently, I brainwashed Ryan in the beginning by giving him drugs. Also, we have these incurable STD's, including AIDS (hm, I wonder where Dayna came up with that one). It also turns out that these random jocks decided to add on by telling everyone that we also came onto them, telling them we'd let them do anything to us for five freaking bucks. So not only are we drug-addicted prostitutes, we're also cheap ones too.

"I talked to Dayna," Ryan finally says, breaking the awkward silence. His voice sounds even deader than he looks. "Or, well... tried to."

"Oh yeah?" I grumble, fists clenching at her name. I don't even want to hear it.

"She just looked at me, like I was this - this... I don't know. This disgusting bug or something, and told me she doesn't associate with whores," he explains, voice cracking as he continues to stare down at his unopened lunch.

I scoff and shake my head, because wow. I look over at Spencer, who's just sitting there, staring at Ryan, completely devoid of any emotion or pity whatsoever.

Ryan eventually brings his eyes up to meet with Spencer's cold ones. He takes a shaky breath, face white. "I'm so sorry, Sp -" he apologizes, voice rushed, and pleading for him to forgive him.

Spencer puts his hand up, stopping him, and actually les out a tiny laugh of disbelief. "So, what? You think that after ditching me and being a complete and total bitch to me, for how long, what? At least a month, that you can just come crawling back to me cause you found out the hard way what we were trying to tell you all along? I told you not to come crying to me when she backstabbed you, and I meant it. I don't deserve how you were treating me, at all, so I really have no sympathy for you. The only person I have sympathy for right now is Brendon, because now, because of you being a fucking inconsiderate asshole, he has to go through this shit. This is his last month of high school and you ruined it. He's going to be remembered as some whore, because of you and your stupid decisions. You knew what she was like, but you just ignored it." By the time Spencer's done, his face is all splotchy and red, and his eyes are narrowed, flashing with anger, and just. Wow. He really is scary.

Ryan looks as tiny as an insect by the time he's finished. Tears are back in his eyes, and I can practically hear his heart beating from his chest from where I sit beside him. Sure, maybe Ryan deserved it, but considering everything, it was a bit harsh. He was already down; he didn't need to be kicked too.

Ryan closes his eyes, takes a deep breath, and then stares back down at the table. "O-Okay," he replies, meek and voice small.

I grab onto his hand under the table while looking at Spencer like, was that really necessary?

Spencer shrugs, and then stares down at his own food.

I look over at Ryan, who is furiously wiping the tears that are falling from his eyes, then around the crowded cafeteria, where almost everyone is turned to stare at us. Laughing.

This is officially the worst day of my life.

- - -

As soon as we get home, Ryan gets into his Pj's and crawls deep under the covers of our bed. He doesn't leave all night.

He just lies there, and cries. I stay with him for a bit, until I cant take it anymore, and just get up and go downstairs, leaving him to cry and feel sorry for himself, alone. I still can't decide whether I want to stay mad at him or not.

I make sure to tell my mom as soon as she gets home of the horrors from today, before she finds out from anyone else - which really wouldn't be a shock considering how my neighborhood talks and everything.

She laughs too, just like me when I first found out, because yes, it is that ridiculous. "Teenagers," she scoffs, shaking her head.

I nod in agreement.

She takes a moment to think this over before saying, "Wow, Ryan must be devastated. I'm sure you are to, anyone would, but I have a feeling you're a little stronger than he is."

"Mm, yeah," I reply. "He is, and Spencer won't even talk to him. You should've heard what he said to him at lunch, he totally just blew into him, and he was already upset enough as it was."

She looks me over for a second with a thoughtful expression her face. She takes a moment before she grabs onto my hand, and looks me straight in the eye. "Brendon, I know it hasn't exactly been smooth sailing for the two of you lately, and I know you're probably mad at him for getting you into all of this, but he needs you, probably more than ever. I have a feeling this is the last string, from his dad to loosing his friends, he can't loose you too. He needs you. If you love him, you have to let it go. I'm sure he's realized his mistakes and feels horrible for it."

I sigh, because she's right. She's always right. "I know."

She pats my hand, and then kind of nudges me out of my chair and towards the staircase. "It'll be okay, Brendon, really. In a month you'll be graduated and you wont ever have to see these kids again, at least not everyday. Everything will be forgotten."

I give her a soft smile, and before I go off upstairs to see Ryan, I bend down to wrap my arms around my mom's neck. "Thanks mom, I love you," I mumble.

She hugs me back and says, "I love you too, Brendon."

When I get upstairs, of course, Ryan is still a big lump a under the covers, barely moving. I almost think he's asleep, but when I reach the head of the bed, I see his eyes are wide open.

He looks at me, but doesn't say anything.

"Hi," I say softly.

He blinks.

"Move over."

He continues to look at me for a second, before he slowly slides himself over and opens the blanket for me to crawl in with him.

I press up against him, and run my thumbs over his wet cheeks before pressing a tiny kiss to each one, and then one on the tip of his nose. Seeing him like this seriously breaks my heart a little with every second. "It'll be okay," I whisper.

He shakes his head.

"Yes."

He closes his eyes, and presses his forehead into my shoulder, his fresh tears soaking into my t-shirt.

I don't know how long we stay like that, pressed together with my blanket wrapped around us, up to our necks while Ryan cries, but it's a long time, hours. I figure this whole thing is really, really shitty, but at least now, hopefully, we can put everything behind us and go back to normal, before Dayna came back into the picture and slowly began to ruin everything.

I kiss his ear, and can't help but shed a few tears myself.