"Alright Bren, we should seriously get going."

"Yeah. I just wish we could stay here, though. But I guess I need to get home before my mom gets there." Brendon picked up another handful of rocks that were destined for the bottom of the river.

"She usually home by the time you're done with school?"

Brendon shrugged. "Eh, sometimes. Usually she gets home ten or fifteen minutes after I do. She started working odd hours when I was like twelve so I wouldn't be home alone for long after school. It was fine when I was a kid but now it's just kind of old."

"I can imagine."

"They get pissed when I lock myself in my room all night, but it's the only time I can really be by myself. They never give me a fucking break." Brendon unloaded the rocks from his hand in one forceful throw before he made his way back to sit down on the cement.

"I didn't think you liked being alone?"

"I hate it, but it's better than trying to watch a movie with everyone in the living room and listening to Seth bitch about something and my mom picking me apart or whatever." Brendon crossed his arms, leaning forward to rest them on his lap and support himself. He glanced up at Ryan to confirm that he still held the boy's attention, but he turned his eyes back to the ground to make it easier to talk. "They wanna do all this family shit with me, and I really wouldn't mind it, but they make it so goddamn miserable that I just wanna hide in bed all day."

Ryan finally joined Brendon on the cement again. "I think I've proven that I don't mind phone calls, so you don't have to be completely alone anymore."

Brendon laughed. "Yeah, but you're probably not gonna wanna sit there for two hours every night and listen to me bitch about everything."

"If it's gonna help ya." Ryan's voice was to the point, and he shifted his leg to rest his knee against Brendon's. Brendon just smiled and looked at the river again as he pulled out his phone, still unsure how to continuously respond to kind words. "Look Bren, I'm sorry everything has to be so fucking hard for you. I promise it's gonna get better."

"It already has." Brendon was busy messing around with his phone. "It's almost three, though. School's almost out and I need to get home."

"Yeah, you're probably right." Ryan twitched and rolled his eyes as his phone started to vibrate. "I knew Spence would probably freak out and start sending me messages. He could at least wait 'til school was actually over, though. So how are we gonna talk tonight? Phone or computer?" Ryan had taken out his phone and started to unlock the keys.

"Phone's always a good option. I'll let you know if I can get on the computer, though."

Ryan nodded and opened the message he had just received. He grinned, only half noticing that Brendon had stood up and started walking away to distance himself.

From: Bren

Message: <3

Ryan let his thumb glide across the screen while he stood up, staring at the text that was displayed before he slid his phone back into his pocket. "Brendon. Hold on, Bren, don't leave yet."

Brendon was relieved and he turned around to see Ryan jogging toward him. "Yeah?"

"I'll, uh... thanks for talking to me, okay? I hope we can talk more tonight."

"Of course, just give it a couple hours and I'll probably have plenty to complain about."

Ryan laughed while he hugged Brendon, pressing their chests together and hoping his friend could always be this strong. "I'll be there when you're ready, alright?"

"Thanks for not being scared away."

"Why would I be scared away?"

Brendon shook his head and inhaled deeply, taking in the scent that Ryan had picked up from being around Spencer the night before. "Most people would have given up."

"Nobody ever gave up on me. Well, the people that mattered never gave up. People you love are worth fighting for. I'm gonna listen to you as often as you want, I promise. It always worked for me." He squeezed Brendon a little harder than he probably should have and Brendon squirmed a little to position himself before returning the hug. "Just get home before it gets too late. As long as you call me, you're not gonna be alone."

~~~~~~~~~~

"Hey El." Ryan jumped down onto the couch as he answered his phone and he stretched his legs out. He was glad to have a soft surface to lay on for the first time since waking up that morning.

"Shit, Ryan, where the hell did you go?"

"Bren and I left."

"Oh so he's Bren now." Ellen chuckled and he heard Spencer doing the same in the background.

"What?" Ryan snapped, vaguely annoyed.

"Nothing. Why did you guys leave and how the hell did you pull it off?"

"We said we were sick. I called my dad and he called some cousin of his who pretended to be his mom."

"But why did you wanna leave? Well, I know it's school, but..."

"I guess Brendon just needed to talk."

"Well then. Elaboration, por favor."

"He just took me to this place down by the river and we talked about random stuff all day. He talked, mainly. He can really get going if you just sit there and don't say much. Um, we ate Cheez-its and talked about the river, and that's about it. We kinda hid all day."

"You're cute, Ryan."

"What?" Ryan whined sarcastically and hoped Ellen could hear his smile. "We just wanted to hang out and if we can't do it in the evening, we might as well do it during school. Neither of us wanted to be there, anyway. You can't really blame us for that."

"Is he okay, Ry?"

"Almost, I think. He's... I don't know. It's not a lost cause. I've been with you and Spence for long enough to know what to do, really. And you guys were right about him. He's a good kid."

"I know he is."

"How was today?"

"Boring, really. Nothing happened. Um, Spence said Miss Davis was worried about you and Brendon, that's about it. Do you want us to come over?"

"I'd like to see ya, but I really need to get some laundry done, maybe clean up a bit around here before Dad gets home..."

"Oh, don't worry about it, then. We can just plan on seeing you tomorrow, okay?"

"Yeah. Tell Spence I'll call him if I need anything. I know he'll worry about it."

"Will do. See ya, Boy."

"Later."

Ryan stood up and opened the blinds on the front windows to try to flood the room with clean daylight, but the sky had given way to more clouds than he had expected. In the dimly lit room, he turned on the television. The weather report spoke of an approaching storm and Ryan began to miss the beautiful day he had spent outside. In his bedroom, he dug around his closet for an old pair of gym shorts and a t-shirt that was three sizes too big. It had been weeks since he wore proper pajamas to bed and it felt good to wear such loose clothing that fell around his skin and made him feel small. He gathered three pairs of jeans, some socks, and the four shirts he had been wearing the most in the past couple weeks. He put them in the washing machine on the coldest setting and he decided to turn to his computer, ignoring the dirty floor that could have used a vacuum.

Ryan had hoped that having his questions answered would calm his mind and let him get back to his life, but if anything, everything that happened had made it worse. Knowing what Brendon would have to listen to when he got home made Ryan sick. For some reason, he was angry at the fact that Brendon's parents never let him have time alone unless he fought for it. He shouldn't have to fight. Ryan didn't like the thought of his friend being criticized by the people he loved, trying to swallow everything down as he tried to tolerate the pressure from his parents. Ryan was caught between feeling pain for Brendon and feeling anger for him. Pain for how he knew the boy felt; anger for what he knew the boy deserved as a human being, but was not allowed to have.

Ryan grabbed his phone upon realization that he technically never responded to Brendon's last message. He was almost glad that it was hard to type much on the phone. It kept him from saying things that should not be said. It kept him from easily emptying his heart onto some faceless medium, and in a way, Ryan hoped that Brendon didn't talk to him on the computer anytime soon. It was far too easy for Ryan to be far too honest, and the extent of his affection had been enough, he thought, to keep Brendon feeling safe without scaring him away.

To: Bren

Message: im here

He leaned against the wall while sitting on his bed and his computer had begun to warm his legs. Outside, a dull roar of distant thunder, not unlike the sound in his ears of his heart pounding. The house was silent, so quiet that he could hear his body keeping him alive.

I'm still not sure where I'm going. Fuck, I can be so lost sometimes. Even when I have so much planned out, mine for the taking, just begging to be taken advantage of. I'm starting to wonder if I can ever stop feeling. Not in the way I used to ask that question. Not for those old reasons. I just want to breathe a little. I want to not worry. I want to bring him happiness. There's an ocean calling out for me, and I want nothing more than to sail it, to calm it down, to settle these waves that threaten to flood this city... it's not supposed to be like this. Nothing should need fixing. Not now. Not when everything was going so well. Not when his smile is so bright when he has a reason for it.

Ryan stopped for a second, accepting the message that came through on his phone.

From: Bren

Message: im glad. thankyousomuch <3

For the first time, Ryan let himself laugh out loud in response to one of Brendon's messages. It wasn't really a laugh as much as it was a happy sigh that had been building in him. His stomach tickled again, a feeling he was becoming used to, and all he could do was smile as he kept typing.

I didn't ask for it. I didn't ask, but I'm not saying no. I want this. I want to be the friend this time. I want to be the world. For once, I think I can do it. So much for starting small, but I never thought it could be so simple. I want his hand in mine again, I want him to feel safe. My hand felt too safe on his back. Way too safe, I promise. I don't like how he cries the way I did. I do like how I can make it stop. Or my hand. Or my words. But my words can't heal him. I know it too well, I can recognize it instantly. He needs a person. Listening, understanding. I can hear him. I have faith in myself now. It's a strange feeling. I feel like something's been thrown at me that, for once, will only make me stronger. It won't kill any part of me. At least I hope not. I am setting myself up for some odd situations. I know this is uncomfortable, even though I know it feels right. I'm just a mess. It's a different kind of disaster, though, one where I can't exactly explain myself this time around. But I just want him to breathe this life like I can. Everyone should be able to feel this.

This river is beautiful.

--RR

He knew that the friends he had never even met before would love to read his words. He knew they would hold nothing against him and he craved their comments, as attention-seeking as it was. He liked to feel valuable.

There was a rush of light as his father turned on the lamp in the living room. "You here, Son?"

"Hey Dad, yeah, be right there." Ryan had not even heard his father come in. He was too involved with his friends' journals to even notice the rain outside his window. He sat his computer aside and rushed to the kitchen, glad to catch a few minutes with the man who was raising him.

"So are you still sick?"

Ryan didn't particularly want to lie, but he had to anyway. "No, I feel better. I just had to rest a bit I guess."

"Back to school tomorrow, then?"

"I guess, unless you're feeling kind enough to-"

"Not a chance, Kiddo." Ryan enjoyed hearing his father laugh as the man pushed him playfully in the shoulder. He finished stirring together his whiskey and soda. "I'm going to watch the news."

"Mind if I join you?"

"Not at all. Since when do you watch the news?"

"Well I fall asleep to it all the time. Quite a bit."

"When you were little you used to throw a fit whenever your mother and I wanted to watch it. You always said it was boring."

Ryan laughed. "I guess I had better things to do. It's kind of sad that my life must be so boring that I find the news to be entertaining now."

"Well, it says something, the fact that it puts you to sleep. Maybe you haven't changed very much after all."

Ryan closed his eyes and let himself say something that had been on his mind for a while. "Dad, do you think we could go fishing again sometime?"

"Oh, wow... yeah, it's been a while, hasn't it?"

Ryan was sitting on the other end of the couch, and he leaned on the armrest to curl his legs up beside him. "At least seven years."

"Yeah, but that was just once... it's been even longer since we had a habit of it."

"I was just walking... um, I was walking the other day and I went down to the river."

"Why on earth did you go there?"

Ryan shrugged. "I was just walking around with a friend. We had nothing better to do. But we found a place along there that I've never been to. It seemed like it would be a good place and I thought maybe sometime we could just go or something."

"I don't know, Ryan... I'm not sure if I have any really long shoestrings anymore. I'll have to dig around."

Ryan gave his dad a sarcastic glare shortly before a grin broke through. "Hey now. Are you gonna make me wear the lifejacket and arm floaties again?"

"Maybe I should. Can never be too safe, you know." He nudged his son before standing up to head to the kitchen for the refill that Ryan dreaded. "Of course we can go down there sometime, Kid. Possibly this weekend or something. Talked to your mother today, by the way."

"How is she?"

"She's doing well. Kept saying she wants to come home, I kept saying nothing's stopping her, she kept saying that I was. Nothing unusual. I do love your mother, Ryan. I don't want you thinking that we don't love each other anymore."

"But it can be fixed, Dad. You know it can."

"Ryan, there is nothing to fix. If your mother would just realize that she needs to come home, there would be nothing wrong with this family."

"Please don't play stupid with me. I'm not five anymore. I stayed here because I didn't want to be the one that made it so everyone had given up on you. I wanted there to be someone left. I just don't like it here when you get... that... way. I want it to stop so we can all be together again."

"Look, if you don't appreciate this house, your mother has room for you. I like to see my kid, but I couldn't care either way anymore. If I barely have a wife, I might as well barely have a son, as long as that is what you both want. It's my job to make my family happy."

"That is NOT what we fucking want, Dad! And if it is your job to make us happy, then just fucking do it, because mom and I both are completely fucking sick of what you do to yourself."

"Oh fucking hell, Ryan. What I do to myself? What I do to myself is work my ass off all goddamn day when I should be trying to retire. But no, I keep working, because YOU need to be supported, even though you just turned seventeen and you're nearly old enough for me to tell you to do everything on your own, but I refuse to. THAT is what I do to myself. I don't want to kick you aside because I know you're too young to make it, and I don't feel like having my son struggle to feed himself. I am trying to make your mother understand this, but she doesn't see it. Now, if you hate living here so much, I know your mother wants you. Don't think for a second that I never heard her begging you to go with her because she didn't think you were safe here."

Ryan bit his cheek in an attempt to stay calm, and he spread his hand out over his eyes, rubbing them slowly with his thumb and forefinger. "You need to stop thinking you're entitled to all this just because you work for a living." The calm was short lived. "What do you need to do, quit your fucking job? Because if I can have father with hardly any money who I can come home to every night and not be fucking afraid of, I will take it." Ryan stood up and moved closer to the hallway to give himself a place to run if he needed it. "I'd rather see you quit your job and barely be able to feed us than keep working, buy expensive shit, and try to make your kid hate himself every goddamn night. It's not working anymore, Dad. You'll have to try a little harder to make me feel like that again. Fuck, just drink it straight out of the goddamn bottle. Maybe that'll give you what you need to fuck with me just a little bit more, don't you think?"

"Get out of my face."

"I know you don't fucking mean that."

"Just go cry to your mother, you goddamn woman."

Ryan turned away as he saw his father stand up. The lock on his bedroom door gave him all the security he needed, or at least all that he was going to get. It had become commonplace, and instead of being dysfunctionally distraught, he was relieved to have avoided all physical contact this time around.

Ryan started to pace back and forth in his room with his fingers laced together behind his neck. He breathed heavily, rapidly, trying to wait for the tension to die down, but he was not having much luck. What bothered him was not what his father had said, but when he had said it. The man hardly had anything to drink after being home for only a short time, but it was apparently enough. Ryan hated to lose his temper with his father and yell back at him, but sometimes he had too much on his mind to keep everything in. It didn't help that he felt that his father was just conscious enough to be able to remember the incident later, and Ryan wanted him to remember everything that he was trying to shed light on.

Still tense, Ryan kneeled on his bed and slid the window open. It was sticky and humid, still raining, and Ryan loved the strong smell of water on the pavement. It was a bitter smell that reminded him of being young and splashing in puddles, sending sticks sailing in the streams of water that would run along the curb.

The heat and humidity prevented him from keeping the window open any longer, so he pulled it down and tried to decide how he was going to handle himself. He would have called Spencer had he been confident that he would not force him to leave the house, and he would have called Brendon had he not been afraid to get him in some kind of trouble.

Ryan took a pen to a stack of paper and started to shred. He stabbed the pen down and ripped it across, tearing, leaving black blotches and streaks. He tore through several sheets while pressing the stack down onto the desk with as much of his weight as he could concentrate in his hand. No words, just anger. He clenched his teeth and tore the perfect white surface to total shreds. His hand trembled with energy and he was glad to focus his negative feelings on something other than himself.

This is not your fucking fault, Ryan.

He managed to not break the pen in half as he bent it in his hands while looking at the mess he had made. Pieces of marked, torn paper were scattered about the desk, crumbled, small and plentiful. Ryan had done a good job of swallowing everything for long enough to spit it out onto the paper, and he breathed calmness into his lungs while he dusted the smaller shreds into the trashcan before closing his fists around the larger pieces. With his nails bitten too short, he dug his fingers into the paper before he released it into the trash.

Ryan rubbed his face with the palms of both hands and laughed quietly at what he had done. He laid down on his bed and positioned his computer directly beside his head to let himself concentrate on the hum of the fan, and his ceiling had barely enough time to become interesting before he closed his eyes. The noise from his computer made everything else seem silent and Ryan started to fall asleep. He somehow found the energy to force his body to jump, essentially jumping away from the dreams that threatened to invade his much needed relaxation.

Ryan was not sure how long he slept, but he knew it was not very long. He pulled himself out of bed and guessed that he had been unconscious for no more than an hour. His cold feet reminded him of the wet socks that were still plastered to the inside of the washing machine. A quick, panicked glance at his phone and computer caused his heart to sink when he saw that he had no messages. He had half expected Brendon to have tried to contact him somehow, and although he took this as a good sign, he still wanted a reason to talk to his new friend.

He ignored his father on the couch as he headed toward the laundry room to put his clothes in the dryer, choosing instead to get the dryer started before rejoining his father on the couch. It was something he wanted to do, but that fact didn't make it any easier.

"What are you watching?"

"Television."

"Is it any good?"

"Probably not."

"I'm sorry for what I said."

"I'm sorry for what you said, too."

Ryan's eyes widened from surprise, although he was used to being made to feel like the bad guy. "Dad, can't you ever just admit that you're wrong sometimes? Even I can admit it about myself, I mean, I know how much I have fucked up, and even if I can't fix it, I'm never going to stop trying. You can at least try, can't you?"

The man shook his head as if to confirm something. "Never gonna be good enough for you, is it?"

Ryan decided to just save the rest of his energy. His father's apathy toward the words that were so important to him forced tears into Ryan's eyes, but he was not going to let them run. He wanted to put the pain into words instead, and he retreated to his bedroom for the second time that night.

He quickly sat down on the bed when he noticed a small gray message box that had popped up on the screen during the time that Ryan had almost wasted in the living room. As he started to read, he instinctively clicked a button to add the unfamiliar screen name to his buddy list.

thrd i brend: hi its brendon. whats your address.

thrd i brend: you there ry?

winter we fell: sorry. 1673 riverview lane

thrd i brend: im coming over.

thrd i brend signed off at 8:13:47 PM

Ryan gasped when his friend quickly disappeared and he was unable to ask questions. He stared at the words for a few seconds and read over them several times even though he knew nothing would change. He closed the computer to send it into sleep mode and he slipped his bare feet into his Vans. His left thumb was already not faring too well as he nervously pressed it against his teeth and used them to tear at the fingernail. He tore his hand away from his mouth and rubbed vigorously at his scalp before bolting through the living room to stand outside the front door. Even the fact that Ryan was quickly leaving the house in is pajamas was not enough to bring words of concern out of his inebriated father, but Ryan had more important matters on his mind.

The small overhang of the roof kept him dry. He remembered back to lunchtime the day before, where Brendon had mentioned that he was about ten minutes away by foot, and Ryan had no idea how he could last ten minutes with not knowing what was wrong. Terrified for his friend, he had to force a few sobs to stay tied inside his throat while he stared toward the end of the street.

No, Ryan. Not now. You will not do this.

Ryan tried not to torture himself mentally for several minutes until his vision of the street suddenly changed as Brendon came into view. He was riding a small bike and there was no hoodie this time, there was only what Ryan perceived as a plain white long sleeved shirt that was probably not doing too well in the rain. A backpack bulged from over Brendon's shoulders and the boy pedaled faster after rounding the corner, and Ryan stepped out into the rain.

Brendon rode his bike up into the grass and jumped off of it before it had rolled to a stop. He let it fall to the ground as he approached Ryan, but Ryan made it to him first.

"Bren, what's wrong? How did you get out of the house?"

Brendon shook his head and put his arms around Ryan's neck, squeezing tightly.

"Please tell me... what the fuck did they do to you?" Ryan pushed the boy back a few inches, enough to be able to see his face. It was tired and wet, but it was clean. Ryan was extremely relieved to see that Brendon's face was just as flawless as it had been earlier that day.

"I just wanna lay down in a room that's not mine."

"We'll get inside and get you a dry shirt. Bren, why did you need to come over? I'm glad you did, but what's wrong?"

Brendon appeared to be contemplating some words before he licked his lips and found himself hugging Ryan again, this time with his eyes burning, his entire body shaking and resting completely against Ryan. He was getting himself used to losing all of his energy again.

Ryan found it rather easy to support Brendon's body. He held him up in a hug and positioned his mouth fairly close to Brendon's ear to be sure to avoid raising his voice in the slightest. "I don't know what happened, but whatever it is, it doesn't matter now. We'll go in so you can lay down."

Brendon didn't care where he was; he was just glad to not be alone.