The leaves were still covered with drops of morning dew and the water was being flung onto Ryan's dark gray shirt, creating black splotches that made it look like he had been in a terrible fight with an ink pen. He didn't mind the dirt that was getting caked around the edges of his shoes, and he simply followed Brendon in the same way he had done since they walked out of the school.

They had walked past the road Ryan lived on and they went directly in front of Spencer's house along the way. Brendon broke their silence at one point to give Ryan a vague idea of where he lived, but "a few houses down that way" was not quite accurate enough. They walked side by side, their hands occasionally brushing and neither of them was too sure of just how accidental it was. Until he had seen the path, Ryan did not know where Brendon was taking him. He just knew that he wanted to get there as soon as possible. Ryan was holding back all of his questions until they arrived at their destination. He knew that Brendon felt some sort of connection to whatever this place was, and he hoped that it would bring out that slightly sarcastic, mostly playful side of him that he had witnessed briefly the day before.

Brendon had rested his hand on Ryan's shoulder for several moments after making the gesture to signal the need to change directions slightly and cut across a large, empty field that the town tried to pass off as a park. Along the perimeter there was a wall of old trees, and coming out from this wall was a gravel path that Ryan instantly recognized. He smiled, remembering coming this way with his father when he was a child, only a short ten minute walk from his house. He had not gone there in years, but with his new friend, he was ready to go back.

"Slow down, Bren. You're gonna lose me back here." They had cut away from the path for what Brendon claimed was a quicker route to the spot along the river that he called his own.

"I'm never gonna lose ya, you can see me. You're just going too slow!" Brendon laughed and started to walk faster, taking it upon himself to jump over a fallen limb instead of pick it up and move it aside for his friend.

"Brendon, I'm not kidding. Just hold on." Ryan held onto the strap of his bag to keep it positioned on his shoulder. He had some sort of intense fear of getting a twig stuck in his eye after a rather traumatic childhood incident, and he was unable to run through the woods as easily as Brendon was.

"Ry, it's right here. You're practically there already." Ryan looked ahead and saw Brendon's red sweatshirt through branches. The boy was standing up straight and holding back a leafy branch to create an opening. Ryan approached him, and every bit of annoyance he felt was swept away with the view of the river that he got from where Brendon was standing. "Right out here, Ry. I come here a lot."

Ryan ducked under some leaves, getting some water droplets in his hair and shaking them out with his hand. He had never seen this exact place before. Some grass extended out a ways, surrounding a large rock that Ryan figured he might be able to sit on top of if he jumped. The grass created a rather nice clearing, but it was far too long to sit in. He watched as Brendon headed over to a slab of cement that was placed oddly along the tree line at the top of the gentle slope that led right down to the river. "This is beautiful out here, Bren."

"Yeah." Brendon looked at the empty half of the cement slab, and Ryan sat down to the left of him. "It's so far away, but it's still close to home, you know?"

"Yeah. It's nice."

"I could sit here all day if I wanted to. It's like the water just goes on forever or... something, I don't know." Brendon lifted his right leg and pulled it against his chest, resting his chin on his knee. "I guess the water has to hit an ocean somewhere, so it... it does kinda go on forever, doesn't it? Please tell me I'm making sense, here. Or just smack me for being incoherent again."

Ryan smiled. "Heh, I'd never do that. Of course you're making sense."

"It's really hot out here."

"I noticed... I can see a shirt under that jacket." Ryan reached around to Brendon's back and tugged on the bottom of the white shirt that peeked out from underneath the sweatshirt, but it didn't hang down far enough to cover the exposed skin of his lower back. "You should probably take your coat off, Bren. It's too hot for this."

Brendon looked out at the river before turning to Ryan. "You don't want me to hide it from you?"

Ryan shook his head. "You don't need to hide anything. I mean, I know it's none of my business, and I probably shouldn't have asked, but... I don't know, I guess it's just instinct by this point. I see someone that reminds me of myself in any way, and I just kinda move toward them, sort of. Regardless, though, you don't have to hide anything from me."

Brendon slowly unzipped his jacket and Ryan helped him slide it off carefully while Brendon spoke. "I guess I just hide it from myself, honestly."

"Yeah, I know how that is." Ryan made a conscious decision to keep his focus on Brendon's face and not the boy's arms.

"I don't like hiding things...I mean, I wish it was easy, you know? Just... like, I don't know, just being all open and crazy and fun... I like to joke around with people I trust, but it's so hard for me to do stuff like Spencer does. Him and El are always doing things with other people, I don't know..."

"Bren?"

Brendon jerked his head out of his stare and looked helplessly at Ryan. "Yeah?"

"Can I ask you why?"

Brendon looked away and concentrated on the warm breeze on his face. "As long as I can ask you."

The way Brendon hugged his leg and kept his upper arms tight against his body, making himself smaller, told Ryan that he wasn't as comfortable as he needed to be in order to talk. "I don't know, Bren... no, I mean, yeah you can ask... I just don't know where to start, really. I've tried to put it behind me."

Brendon pressed his left ear against his leg and his face was turned away from Ryan. "I don't think anyone knows about me."

"Spence and El don't."

"You asked them?"

"I'm sorry... they're good people, I swear, they just helped me so much and they're so good at figuring people out, you know? I just thought they would have known." Brendon was quiet and Ryan listened to the river. Water falling over small rocks created a peaceful, smooth static roar that seemed just familiar enough to keep his mind at ease. Brendon didn't respond to what Ryan had said, and Ryan knew he had to do something to fix it. "It was all I had for a while, I guess. I wouldn't say I was addicted, but I needed it. I hate thinking about it now, though, because I can't believe that someone could have ever felt that bad, you know? Like, I don't know, I'm just so different now, and... I guess I kind of regret it, even though I'm glad that I at least had something to make me feel alive back then, you know?"

Brendon nodded and lowered his leg, still staring at his knee but exposing the side of his face for Ryan to look at. "How long ago?"

"It's only been a few months. Seems like forever, though."

"Is... is that all you ever did? I've never done that, exactly. Sharp things just... I don't know, I've never done that."

Ryan nodded. "Yeah, that's all." He watched Brendon's eyes, which were fixed on some certain spot. "Bren?" The boy looked over to him, his lips dry from the warm air and his cheeks shiny with sweat. "Do you mind if I look?" Ryan whispered, and Brendon looked scared as he sat his left hand on Ryan's thigh.

With his palm facing upward, he slid his left hand underneath Brendon's and carefully wrapped his fingers around to the back. Brendon's thumb rested on Ryan's knuckles and Ryan slowly lifted the tattered arm a few inches, lowering his own head in the process. His eyes were now free to trace the asymmetrical edges of the imperfect circles. They had no obvious pattern; they were just thrown about on pale skin, seared into his body from the force of unimaginable pain. Some had started to go away, leaving small marks that almost looked like permanent bruises; others had a brown edge filled with white and pink. Small blisters had formed in places, and Ryan knew they would join the bruise-like scars once they were broken.

Ryan's heart was busy shattering and he sensed Brendon having second thoughts, so he gripped his friend's hand even tighter. "Bren... Brendon, why do you do this? It's so ugly, and you... you're so not..." His voice trailed off, getting stuck in his throat, and Ryan tried to control his emotions.

"You said it, Ry. You said it was all you had. You just got lucky somewhere along the road, I guess."

"No, Brendon, I didn't get lucky, I got better. I got a second chance and I decided to think differently." Ryan was being reminded too much of how he used to live, and he had to pull his right arm out from between the two of them in order to wipe his eyes. He didn't think before putting his arm back down, but when his hand settled down on Brendon's waist, he just let it happen. "But why this, Bren? These burns... I mean, I knew people did it, I've just never seen... I don't know, Bren, I can't even imagine it."

"My parents have smoked forever."

"Do you?"

"God no. To tell you the truth, I never even tried... I just steal their stuff. Cigarettes, I mean." Brendon looked at his hand connected to Ryan's, both hands clinging together, and he decided to not let go. It was comfortable this way.

"I'm glad you don't." Ryan wished to bring Brendon out of his rigid, scared pose. The boy was frozen, and Ryan shifted himself sideways a couple inches to turn and face him. He pulled Brendon closer and the boy didn't add any resistance, falling gently onto Ryan with his upper left arm connecting to Ryan's chest. Brendon tilted his head to keep a little distance between their faces, and their hands did not move. Instead, each boy watched their small finger movements—gentle strokes, twitches—as they continued to talk. "Can you tell me something, Bren?"

"Maybe."

"I want to know what makes you ruin yourself like this."

"I know my parents want to hit me. They want to just fucking let loose on me instead of taking time to form sentences. They wish they could be lazy and just do it. It takes too much effort to yell."

"But they don't hit you?"

"Never. I just know they want to. All the fucking screaming and yelling has to get tiring. I don't know what keeps them from just bashing my head in."

Ryan cringed at the description, but he was still relieved. It was one less thing to worry about. "Why do they yell?"

"They never yelled at Seth. Or me, until they saw what a shithead my brother was. They always let him do whatever. Now they're afraid to fuck up with me, so they do everything differently."

"But what do they yell at you about?"

"Everything. If they want me to do something, not do something, whatever. They like pointing out everything I do wrong. I guess it makes them think I won't do it again and I will go back to being completely fucking perfect."

Ryan started to feel regret for every time he had talked at even a normal volume while talking to Brendon, and he felt the need to keep his voice just above a whisper. "Nobody should yell at you like that."

"Well, apparently you're the only one that agrees, there." Brendon leaned his head down far enough for his chin to touch his chest. He stared at his arm until his eyes started to sting and everything looked blurry. "I only do it to finish what they started."

Brendon's hand was starting to tense around Ryan's, and Ryan squeezed harder. "What do you mean, Bren?"

Brendon inhaled and his body shook slightly. "It hurts like hell every time I do it. I know they wish they could hurt me like that. But I don't know, Ry... it fucking feels good, you know? There's something about it that makes me fucking sick because it just numbs everything for a while."

Ryan didn't need to hear what he already knew. "I might be the first person to ever say this to you, but I know it feels good, Bren. I really do."

"Ry?"

"Yeah?"

"I meant it when I said I needed you."

Ryan didn't know what to do except try to pull Brendon even closer. He may have only succeeded in digging his hand into Brendon's side and pressing the boy up against his chest even more, but it was enough. Brendon saw this as his cue to lean his head against Ryan's chest. He could hear two sounds--the sound of the river, and the sound of Ryan's heart beating loudly. "Bren, it's okay. I promise, even if it doesn't seem like it now, it won't always be like this."

Brendon spoke with a quiet voice, kept low to avoid losing control of himself. "That means something, coming from you, Ryan."

"How so?"

"You know what you're talking about." Brendon inhaled again and sat up right as Ryan started to rub his back. Ryan didn't want to stop; it would have felt too awkward to stop so soon, and so he just extended his arm and continued. Brendon still hadn't let go of Ryan's hand, however. His thumb began to slide gently across Ryan's knuckles again, and his glassy eyes stared out across the water. "I really can't thank you enough for what you did all day yesterday. All the shit in school, and then you stayed on the phone with me forever. Seriously, Ryan, people don't do that for me. I never expected someone to care that much."

"I didn't go out of my way, Bren. It's just something... I don't know, like... you just needed it, and so it was done. I'd do it all over again if I had to, especially now that I know so much more."

"I kinda think you are doing it again."

Ryan blushed and looked out to the same water that Brendon was fascinated by. "How long do you think we can sit here and watch that water move?"

"Forever. It's not stopping anytime soon."

"I guess that's why you come here so much."

"Hmm?"

"It never changes. It's one thing that stays constant, you know? No matter how bad things get, you come here and it's the same every time. Am I right?"

"Yeah, that's part of it. I just feel so safe here. Not many people come this far down. Usually, the people that bother to walk this far down are on the same level as I am. The few people I have seen down here, I've never talked to any of them, but I can tell they're not happy. There's one guy that's angry a lot, I named him Stephen. I think he's angry most of the time, and that just makes him even angrier at himself. He likes to walk down here later at night."

Ryan smiled at the innocence Brendon was displaying. "What do you tell your parents to get them to let you come down here?"

"Unless they think I am working on stuff for school or doing shit with some club I lie about being in, it's kinda hard. Sometimes I wait until it's really late and everyone's in bed. It's really nice when the sky's clear and it reflects off the water... I don't know, Ryan. It's just nice to feel like everything has stopped, and time's just gonna continue on forever like this, you know?"

"Yeah." Ryan was kept quiet by Brendon's use of words. He was afraid to say anything, afraid that he would somehow prevent Brendon from thinking out loud, something Ryan desperately wanted to listen to.

"Your voice feels so good, you know... it's like, everything you've said to me, it's just... soft, and nice... you've said so much and never once scared me with your voice, really. I'm not really used to that."

Ryan melted a little and smiled. "I'm sorry to hear that, honestly. You—Bren, look at me."

Brendon turned away from the river again.

"You deserve better than that."

Brendon finally let go of Ryan's hand in a quick decision that led to a hug. He clung to Ryan, and Ryan held on to him gently, afraid of crushing him. "I wouldn't believe that if you weren't the one saying it."

"Is there anything else you want me to say, then?"

Brendon couldn't find a reason for starting to cry. His face was hidden on Ryan's shoulder, and once his eyes began to sting, he was unable to hold it in. Part of it was guilt, shame for his feelings toward himself and his life. Guilt for everything he had done. A lot of what poured from his eyes was fear. Uncertainty, the future, his friend—Brendon was tired of trying to be the perfect son that he was expected to be. His fingers dug into Ryan's back as he tried to convince himself that the impossible had happened. Brendon didn't know how to have a close friend. He was not used to not needing to support his own weight when he cried, and he had never been able to relax as much as he was able to at this moment. There was no fear of needing to explain his tears to someone who laughed after barging in on him. He knew he was safe there by the river, and he knew that, being in Ryan's arms, he was safe from himself. Many of his tears were acting as a glue that sealed shut the vow of trust that he had just made. He had explained most of himself to Ryan and he needed something to set everything in stone and make the moment last.

Ryan rested comfortably on the side of using no words while he let his friend collapse against him. As Brendon emptied his mind of everything, Ryan told himself that it was okay to press his hand against the back of the boy's head, holding him close and trying to make him feel as safe as possible. He wanted to ask questions and make Brendon say a word for every tear that left his eyes, but Ryan was satisfied with what he already had. He sat still and applied constant pressure with his arms to Brendon's body to ensure that the boy didn't think, even for a second, that he was alone.

Brendon liked to laugh. It wasn't always an impossible task, especially when he had any small, insignificant reason to find something funny, and this time around it happened to be the fact that his legs were going numb after sitting in Ryan's arms for twenty minutes, mostly crying, sometimes making no sound at all. A small laugh escaped his mouth between sobs, and Ryan sat him up and looked at him strangely. The look on Ryan's face made him laugh even more, smiling and shaking his head, not able to believe himself.

Ryan was even more confused. He wiped Brendon's cheek and grinned. "What's going on with you, Bren?"

Brendon stood up and stretched, sighing, and continued to laugh. "I really, really do not know, Ryan. I am so fucking pathetic, but you know what? I am so goddamn happy right now."

"It's nice to hear that from you." Ryan had a concerned, worried grin on his face, unsure of the true meaning behind his friend's sudden change of mind.

Brendon shook his head and grinned, still in awe of how much he confused himself sometimes. He pulled Ryan up and kept him steady since he had almost forgotten how to walk during the time that they had been sitting down. "There's just someone I can trust now, and, I don't know... I just, I like it. I like this, Ry. I feel like I could do anything right now. Anything good, and I'm just glad I brought you here." Brendon wrapped his arms tightly around Ryan's small frame and gave him a grateful hug.

Ryan felt truly accomplished, even after putting forth such little effort. All he had done was listen. He had to pull a couple strings to drag some things out, but Brendon had put up such little resistance that Ryan was convinced that his friend was almost ready to beg to be listened to.

Brendon bent down and messed around with his bag. "Remember I said I packed some lunch? And hey, nobody is here to give me shit for eating."

"I won't give you shit as long as you give me some food!"

"Oh, there's plenty." Brendon quickly pulled out a plastic bag and removed from it a can of Mountain Dew and a full box of Cheez-its. Ryan was the one laughing this time as Brendon cradled the box under his arm and returned to the piece of cement. "Don't drink all the Dew, though."

Ryan sat down and crossed his legs, still grinning at Brendon in disbelief as he faced the boy. "You know what, Bren? I think you're crazy." Ryan helped himself by sticking his hand into the box and removing several orange squares.

"What? I fucking love these things!" Brendon threw a handful of crackers into his mouth and chewed quickly, nowhere near being afraid of having his appetite pointed out to him.