This mental quest for answers that Ryan simply could not finish by himself lasted through the end of his math class. There was a chalkboard this time around and his nasal passage dusted over, leaving his throat dry and mouth longing for water. The school's obsession with tables instead of desks for students was really starting to grate on Ryan as he was seated next to a thin girl who had her hand hidden in her purse the entire time. She was unaware of the blue glow emanating from her bag while she assaulted her cell phone's buttons.

The numbers on the chalkboard lost all meaning to Ryan as he kept studying the boy in his mind. Ryan felt something, and he was becoming increasingly agitated as he was unable to identify it. This feeling of helplessness brought his mind back to the previous school year when he seemed to have no control over himself. His small ego was collapsing under the pressure of the instability of his own emotions, and he hated the sensation of remembering what he used to feel like. He knew it would pass. He knew he would find a way to get his mind off everything, but Ryan was not about to start caring about any X-axis or equation. Y equals M X plus better, much better things to think about than slope intercept form. He started to look around the room as soon as he realized that he was starting to chew entirely too much skin off from around his fingernails. Ryan was slightly amused by the girl beside him and her blatant defiance of school policies. The man at the front of the room could not have been more oblivious to her messaging and lack of attention.

He needed to get his mind off of the boy before he made himself sick with worry and unwarranted nervousness. His eyes were fixed on the teal tile floor, the same tile that every older room in the school was unfortunate enough to contain. His homeroom was made warm with the hard beige carpet that had been put in the newer parts of the building, but the carpet was far less interesting than this shiny teal surface. The tile was speckled with dashes of colors, brown to gray, making the squares look like they were lifted from a Munch painting. Ryan started to slip into the math class mentality by counting each individual dash of color in a single tile, a task that proved to be impossible due to the bending and fading of certain swirls. The ringing bell abruptly cut the teacher off in mid sentence, something about rise over run, a monotonous babble that made Ryan wonder why he was being taught things that he had learned two years earlier. He stood up and shot past the girl with the poorly hidden phone and exited the room, eyeing up the cafeteria with near tunnel vision while he made his way down the hall. His stomach growled in anticipation of two rectangles of 'pizza' that were sure to be crunchy on top, cold and stiff, but still delicious, by some magical stretch.

Ryan claimed his food and scanned the cafeteria for any combination of one or three familiar faces, hoping for one in particular, but still feeling relief with the sight of Spencer's hand waving at him from an otherwise empty table. Ryan was glad to finally have someone to sit with during lunch. Spencer's mouth was already full of pizza when Ryan sat down. He nodded and Ryan smiled. "How'd you get here so quick? You're almost done eating, what did you do, just empty your tray into your mouth or something?" Ryan hypocritically shoved half a slice of pizza into his mouth while awaiting Spencer's reply.

"Dude I have study hall in here right before this. I was like fifth in line or whatever once the bell rang. Where'd you come from?"

"Math." Ryan spoke through the food in his mouth. "Wanted to kill the girl next to me. She was texting so goddamn much that I'm tempted to bring my computer for her to use next time. It'd be less annoying, that's for damn sure." He raised his hand to finish the last bite of his first slice of pizza.

Spencer caught sight of his friend's mangled fingers. Spots of dark crimson dotted the skin around torn down fingernails and he recognized Ryan's stress-induced habit. "Sooo, what's goin' on with ya?"

Ryan knew he would be unable to change the topic or convince Spencer that the day had been uneventful. He chose to try to play everything off as casually as his voice would allow. "Not too much. Just been thinking about stuff or whatever."

"Whatcha thinkin' about?" Spencer's words were less harsh than the "I'm not stupid, tell me what's wrong" that lingered on the tip of his tongue, just dying to jump off.

"I've kinda been talking to this strange kid... he's quiet but he still talks, yanno? His locker's next to mine and he's in my homeroom. I think El knows him or something?"

"What's he look like?"

Ryan remembered his conversation with Ellen and decided to avoid falling into the same mistake again. "Kinda skinny... dark hair, tight pants..." He realized that he had successfully described 98% of the male student body. "And red glasses."

Spencer chuckled, nearly choking on his lunch. "Was he hovering over some notebook?"

Ryan grinned cautiously and nodded. "It seemed like he got kinda pissed at it and he kept throwing his pen down."

"Hah, that's Brendon. Such a great kid. He's kinda quiet 'till you get to know him but he's still pretty shy even after that. Nice guy though, pretty funny. We only really hang out with him here because I guess he has to stay home a lot or whatever. Looks like El's got him." Spencer nodded toward the front of the lunch line and Ryan turned around to follow his line of vision. His redheaded friend in a striped shirt accompanied a boy carrying a thermos. Spencer waved at them and Ryan turned back around to face him, catching the beaming smile Spencer had aimed at his girlfriend. Ryan's eyes widened and his teeth clenched together while his arms fumbled to quickly get his jacket onto his body. It was not much of a cloak of invisibility, but it would just have to do.

Brendon's hands peeked out from his red sleeves to wrap around the blue thermos that Ryan had not noticed back at the lockers earlier that day, but now it was the only thing Ryan could stare at while Brendon waited to see which seat Ellen would take. Her face caught Ryan's attention as she sat down and her smirk told him that she knew he had lied about a boy with red glasses. Ryan instantly realized that she had probably known all along and she just derived some sort of sick pleasure from waiting to see his reaction at this very moment.

Spencer wrapped an arm around his girlfriend. "Brendon, we've told you about Ryan." He placed a quick kiss on Ellen's cheek and Ryan wished that he never had that art room conversation with her. He prayed that she would feel enough compassion toward him to not bring it up.

Ryan looked at Brendon as he sat his drink on the table and lowered himself onto a chair. He was unsure of who had the redder face after they quickly smiled at each other and had to look away. Ryan was the master of creating awkward situations even though he had yet to develop the necessary social skills to properly deal with them. His only coping mechanism kicked in and his left hand slipped into his sleeve and rose up to his cheekbone to support his head above the table. Sometimes the jacket was too tight-just not loose enough to provide an adequate barrier between his unassembled feelings and the rest of the world that had to interpret them. He was always afraid that people would end up taking the pieces of the puzzle and put them in all the wrong places. Ryan was visibly nervous, and he could tell by their expressions that Spencer and Ellen wanted to laugh at him, but they settled on grins and some rolling eyes.

"Hi." Brendon's voice quietly squeaked out from his throat and it almost took the auditory qualities of a question.

Ryan's hand slid to cover his mouth and hide his forming smile. "Whatcha drinking?"

"Coffee. Cold." He took a large gulp and sat the thermos back down. "Don't care though. It still works."

"Yeah, that's all that matters." The cafeteria maintained a loud roar of voices and Ryan had tuned out all other conversations, including whatever the couple at the table were saying to each other.

Brendon wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. "What classes do you have left?"

"Hold on." Ryan's hand abandoned his face, leaving it completely vulnerable and open to interpretation. He pulled a folded piece of paper from the shallow pocket of his jeans and smoothed it open on the surface of the table, tilting it slightly so both of them could see. Ryan's stomach twitched and he felt a rush of blood to his ears at the moment Brendon moved his chair closer to better see the words on the paper. He watched the boy's face develop a surprised smile and his reflexes caused him to look away when Brendon looked up again.

"Guess I'll see ya more than I thought." He slid the piece of paper toward Ryan slightly and proceeded to slouch back in his chair, his posture a bit more open than it had been a few hours earlier. "Study hall might suck because it's in here and they assign seats or some shit but we have creative writing with Spencer at the end of the day. And history right after lunch, which will be totally fucking painful, but I guess we'll manage together."

Ryan was surprised at the number of words that this boy, now Brendon, was throwing at him. He had been able to say so much with so little first thing in the morning and it was very strange to hear this foul language coming from Brendon's mouth. He didn't strike Ryan as an angry boy. Aggravated and unhappy, possibly, but Ryan had not sensed much anger at first. His instincts took over and Ryan tore his remaining rectangle of pizza in half and slid a piece to Brendon. "At least I'll have someone to keep me awake. And sane. Definitely need someone to do that in the afternoon classes, you know. That's usually naptime, right after lunch."

Brendon's face displayed a hint of a cringe while he accepted the food. "Thanks." His voice returned to a quiet squeak again, minus the questioning inflection.

"All you have is the coffee, you should eat something. You don't wanna get sick or anything."

Brendon nodded and took such a small bite that Ryan was not even sure if he had eaten any at all. His eyes found their way to Brendon's sleeves again and he stopped himself from staring by letting his eyes dart around the room and observe all the faces that were completely unfamiliar to him. Brendon suddenly sat up, stiff in his chair, and Ryan watched as the overweight boy from earlier approached the table with a smirk on his face. He pulled a chair to the table and crashed down onto it as Brendon's hand flew to Ryan's leg, a split second grasp of the knee that was over so quickly that Ryan was unsure of what had just happened. In the small space between Brendon's stomach and the edge of the table, Ryan could see Brendon's other hand gouging and picking at the hand that had just violated his leg, as if to punish it for such a blatant move. Ryan resisted the urge to reach over and pull the hand back to his leg and he completely shook the thought from his head as Brendon spoke.

"Why are you here, Seth?" Brendon's voice rang with more aggravation than fear, a slightly different sound than Ryan had expected to hear based on Brendon's quick reaction a few moments earlier.

"Fuck, I don't know, what about you?" His chubby hand pulled the pizza from in front of Brendon and shoved it into his own mouth. "You don't have any friends. You should leave these fine people alone."

Brendon looked down, fingers squeezing into his arm, and he took a deep breath. Ryan watched Brendon try to control himself and he started to feel a surge of blood rush to his face and seem to set his ears on fire. His fingers started to tingle and he bit the inside of his cheek while his eyes shot back and forth from dark haired boy to dark haired boy. "Who is this, Brendon?"

Brendon shook his head and looked up. "Seth, please just stop."

"Geez, don't cry about it you crazy son of a bitch."

"Yeah just keep talking about your mother that way. She'd be glad to know how you feel about her."

Seth stood up by pushing against the table for support. Once on his feet, he clenched Brendon's shoulder and caused the boy to duck in his direction to avoid further pain. "You really should stop thinking people like you."

Seth had made it personal, and Ryan was seriously beginning to feel offended. "Leave him the fuck alone, jackass. I don't appreciate it when people think my friends and I don't exist. If we hated him he wouldn't be here so you can just back the fuck off."

Spencer was startled by his friend's sudden defensive outburst. He sat up straight and gave Ryan a cautious look, hoping he wouldn't say anything else and get himself killed. Ryan surprised himself as well, as he was never able to defend himself with any action bigger than turning his back to walk away or covering his head with his arms at home. His best defense was always a locked door, and without a lock to turn, he was surprised to find himself using such sharp words to stab with.

"And just what the fuck do you think you are, little bitch?" Seth leaned in closer and Brendon lifted an arm to his brother's stomach to catch him off guard.

"Don't you fucking touch Ryan or else Mom's getting a call at work and she's gonna be told where to find all that weed in your room, fuckface."

Seth stood back and gave Brendon one of the most venomous glares that Ryan had ever seen.

"You know she wouldn't believe anything you'd say about me, so just leave me the fuck alone. And I'm still walking home because I'm not getting in your car and I know you wouldn't wait on me anyway."

Seth discreetly stabbed his fist into Brendon's small upper arm, pushing as hard as he could, and subsequently making the boy lean against Ryan. "Just go to hell." His feet smacked against the floor as he waddled away. Ryan tilted his head to look at his friend, the pale boy who still leaned against him with his eyes closed in slight defeat, waiting for his brother to get far enough away.

"You alright?"

Brendon slowly sat up with his free hand clutching his sore arm and he rolled his eyes toward Ryan. "Well, apparently. He didn't hit me, now did he?" It was quite obvious that Brendon was not feeling up to discussing the situation.

"Uh... yeah. He kinda did... you okay?"

Brendon licked his lips and lifted his head in a half nod. "Don't worry about him. He's not gonna do anything to you. He's a cock but he doesn't have the balls to fuck with anyone else."

"And you have to live with this shit?"

"Ryan I'm sorry, I just wanna ignore it right now." Brendon took another sip of cold coffee and let his eyes close, temporarily sealing himself off from the outside world. It gave him a few moments to recover. "Sorry for laying on you there. I had nowhere else to go."

"Don't worry about it, just eat this." Ryan slid the remaining half of his last pizza slice to Brendon. "I had some before you got here so I'm fine."

As he put the entire piece of cold pizza rectangle into his mouth, his eyes were unable to disguise the slight pleasure he was getting from the food. He finished with more coffee and decided to look at Ryan's face, which was holding a small smile. The eye contact made them both feel oddly warm. Uncomfortable, yet safe.

"So uh... a while back, Ellen was all 'I think you'd get along with our friend Ryan' but I figured you would hate me or something because I can hardly get my parents to let me do anything unless it's a weekend if I'm lucky."

"Why would I hate you for that? It's no big deal. Mine used to do that all the time." Ryan decided to not tack on the words 'when I was ten' to the end of his sentence.

"Yeah, well... my brother was right though. You're looking at my friends, really. But I love hanging with these two even if I only ever really see them at lunch."

"Well you're gonna see me more than just at lunch. And I think you should hang out with us whenever you can leave or sneak out or whatever. We're kinda boring but if you like movies and walking around town, you'll fit right in."

Brendon's face was quickly taken over by a wide smile until he controlled his emotion by trapping his bottom lip between his teeth. "I'd like that. I walk a lot so it'd be nice to have someone to talk to then or something."

Ryan nodded and this time he was the one smiling. He didn't hold it back because he knew Brendon was enjoying the positive feedback. Ryan wanted to smile until his face hurt but he had to stop once it started to become creepy. Spencer and Ellen had struck up random conversation with someone at a nearby table and this left Ryan and Brendon in yet another uncomfortable situation. Brendon's arms were now folded and pressed against his stomach while he leaned forward and rested them on his thighs. Ryan began to pick his fingers apart again, tearing nervously at the sore skin, unable to find the words he wasn't sure he wanted to say. He hated this.

"So, Ryan... where do you live, anyway?"

"Well do you know where Spencer lives?"

"Yeah, I've been there a couple times."

"Basically, if he lives here..." Ryan pointed to an imaginary spot on the table. "You pretty much head this way, past the house with that terrible statue by the front door, you know what I mean?" He traced a quick zigzag away from the invisible spot, and Brendon nodded. "I'm about here, then. It takes me like three minutes to walk to Spencer's. It's really close."

"I'm kinda close to him in the other direction. Closer to the river. It'd probably take me about ten minutes to walk to your place, I'd imagine."

"You're close to the river? Me and my dad used to go fishing there when I was little."

"Really?"

"Yeah, well, it was more like he went fishing and I stood there holding a stick with a shoestring tied to it, but I thought I was fishing. He just didn't want me getting hurt on any hooks."

"Probably didn't catch much, didja?"

"I almost caught a cold once but we went home when my dad finally realized it was freezing outside." Ryan found himself smiling at the nice memories and he leaned back in his chair, stretching his arms, once again exposing his stomach and sharp hipbones.

"Yeah it was pretty cold outside this morning."

"I fell asleep with my window open last night and I just about died when I woke up. I mean, shit, it's the beginning of September. It's supposed to be hot and disgusting outside."

"Warmed up quickly though."

Ryan realized that he had put his jacket on just a while earlier, but he still thought Brendon had set himself up for questions. "You seem cold though. You've been wearing that hoodie all day."

Brendon shrugged and twisted his now empty thermos around in his hands. "I just wear it all the time."

"Why don't you take it off for a while?"

Brendon grinned. "I don't exactly have a shirt on underneath it."

"So?" It didn't take Ryan long to hear what he had just said, and apparently Ellen had overheard as well. The girl was turned toward them with an amused look on her face. She rolled her eyes and directed her attention back to Spencer and their acquaintances. Ryan was in total disbelief at what he had just said. He blinked and left his eyes closed for twice as long as he should have. It seemed to drag on for hours but it was only a little more than a second before he looked back toward Brendon. The boy was partially hiding his red face with a hand that peeked out from his even redder jacket. "Shit, no, sorry, you know what I mean, you should just-"

"Hey it's fine, I hear ya." Brendon sat up straight and started to slowly bring the jacket's zipper down a couple inches. "I know when someone wants me to strip. Let's just get some music going." Brendon was smiling more than anyone had seen him smile that day. Ellen reached over and smacked his hand away from the zipper, feeling Ryan's embarrassment and wanting to help him avoid further humiliation. With another grin, she rolled her eyes and pointed toward the cafeteria exit.

"Yeah, I guess we should head to class... I guess... should we-" Ryan was glad to be cut off because he had absolutely no idea what he was about to say.

"Might as well."

"Spence, I'll see ya... creative writing, right?"

"Yeah Ry, and how about we all meet by that big tree outside after school? Do something later or whatever."

Ryan and Brendon nodded and Ryan received a quick squeeze on the arm from Ellen as he passed her. They were among thirty or so other students who were headed to class as well, many others just waiting until the last second to run to wherever they needed to be.

"Nah, Ry, I just wear this all the time. I like it."

"Sorry."

"For what?"

"I shouldn't be telling you what to wear." Ryan remembered the times he was stuck wearing jackets and long sleeves with no other options, and he was starting to feel terrible for doing to his friend what everyone did to him. His goal was not to force Brendon into a corner and make him look for excuses to get himself out. Ryan was still trying to get used to this whole 'friend' thing, and he did not want to ruin it. He watched the floor run past his feet as he was careful to not trip on anything. He quit walking as soon as Brendon's footsteps ceased beside him and they were standing in front of their lockers.

"Don't be sorry. Nobody else has really asked why I wear this thing every day even if it's hot out."

"People used to bug me all the time when I didn't take mine off."

"Well Ellen's tackled me before and whatever... trying to get me to take it off. She's great though, really." Brendon tossed his thermos to the bottom of his locker. "How long have you guys been friends?"

"About forever, pretty much. Since we were little."

"All three of you?"

"Yeah."

Brendon shut the locker door and they started walking. "They sure do love each other."

"Yeah they do."

"Ellen's kinda gorgeous, don't you think?"

Ryan nodded. Pretty, yes, but he had never thought of his friend in the way Spencer thought of her. He was almost annoyed with Brendon for putting those thoughts into his head. "She's cute, I don't know. She's one of my two best friends... I guess I don't think of her that way or anything."

"Oh no me either, I was just saying... Spencer's a lucky guy, ya know, his friends are good people."

Ryan noticed a bit of hurt in Brendon's expression, and he continued quickly. "Well, three best friends. She's one of three now. Don't get me wrong there, I didn't say it right. I'm good at messing up words. I'm also good at thinking out loud, apparently." Ryan nervously rubbed the back of his neck to ease whatever tension he had just created.

"I know... I know what you meant. You wouldn't be talking to me if Seth was right."

"Don't your parents know what he says to you?"

Brendon shrugged as they both ducked into the sparsely populated classroom. The lack of bookshelves was strange considering the fact that the whole place smelled like an old library. It was incredibly warm in the room and probably too hot outside to open any of the windows. Ryan slipped his jacket off but he felt sorry for Brendon who had no choice but to leave his on. They claimed the last of the empty tables in the back row, the one right against the wall, and they assumed the same seating arrangement as they had in homeroom. Ryan quieted his voice to blend in with the low whispers.

"I know I don't know much about you or whatever but I can't imagine it's too great to live with him if he acts like that."

Brendon's face held the obvious signs of a broken down barrier. He shook his head as he finished opening his notebook to a blank page. "I guess they kinda think he's joking. My parents, I mean, they think he is joking, so they joke along with him so I have to either laugh with it or just sit there and say nothing since Seth will just give me hell for it if I fight back or whatever."

"Can't you just tell them when he's not around or something?"

"I sorta tried once but I guess my dad just figured I was kidding because he asked if I could have my imaginary friends kick Seth's ass."

Ryan felt uncomfortable by this point. No amount of alcohol ever made his father deny the few friends that Ryan had, and Brendon's attitude was visibly darker than it was at the beginning of lunch, back when he saw Ryan's class schedule and grinned from ear to ear. Ryan tried to not blame himself for the change in mood. "If it helps, I don't think I'm imaginary. But seriously, that's shit, and I know my house isn't the happiest place to be, but you are welcome to hang with me or Spencer or whatever if you want to get away from that shit sometime."

Brendon smiled and picked at the empty paper in front of him. Unsure of what to say, he made quick eye contact with Ryan and looked away to hide the approaching and almost constantly present red in his face. A fluorescent light bulb flickered above them before dying completely. It left them in an oddly dim corner with light penetrating from windows in the wall that Ryan leaned against. Warm and slightly darker than before, the room was beginning to fill with people, bodies that were sure to raise the room temperature even more. The small distance between Ryan and Brendon allowed for the transfer of body heat. They sat with their arms extended on the table's surface. The sleeve of Brendon's sweatshirt was soft against Ryan's arm and Ryan did not plan on moving it. He had the feeling that his new friend didn't ever have much contact with people aside from a few nice punches to the shoulder. He stayed close-it was his only known strategy for earning trust. Spencer had said that Brendon doesn't say much until he gets to know someone. Somewhere along the line, Ryan thought, someone was misunderstanding someone else. He knew Brendon had a lot to say and he knew the boy was going to tell him. Ryan's arm stayed in place and he could have sworn that Brendon was taking measures to avoid moving his own arm as well. Ryan focused on this contact, aware of the pain that was hidden underneath the sleeve upon which his bare skin rested. He had to draw his own many conclusions about how so much suffering could gather under a little sleeve. He was too afraid to ask questions. His mind stopped racing when Brendon's soft voice whispered against his ear and made his eyes open again.

"Hey Ry, I think my grandma got new curtains."

Ryan was too confused to form a response aside from a raised eyebrow and a slightly gaping mouth.

"I think she donated her old ones to a dress shop." Brendon nodded toward the front of the room. Ryan saw the old woman who had walked in sometime after his eyes had drifted closed. The garish floral pattern of her dress could have easily been stolen from a thirty year old sofa or an eighty year old's window coverings. The terrified expression on Ryan's face caused Brendon to laugh, and Ryan followed suit. The woman, rather avian in appearance with a long, pointed nose and thin lips, sent the two boys a rather unfriendly glare. Ryan rolled his eyes, grinning at Brendon as he slid out a sheet of paper and started to draw random circles with red ink.

"Hey..." Brendon leaned in closer, his voice quiet next to Ryan's face. Ryan was slightly taken off guard, as he did not expect the boy's face to move so close to his own. "Are you guys going to that dance this weekend?"

"I don't know, I remember Spence and El didn't go last year because I couldn't go since I didn't go to school here." Ryan quickly blocked the memories of that night from making him too upset to discuss anything further. "They haven't said anything about it so I guess I should see what they wanna do. Saturday, right? Not Friday?" Dances at his private school were always held on Friday nights. It only took Ryan one dateless dance to realize that dances just annoyed him. Strict and boring, they were almost nothing more than night school sessions with music and no polo shirt requirements.

"Well, I was thinking of telling my parents that I volunteered-"

Brendon was cut off by the woman up front clearing her throat. "Excuse me? It's my turn to talk, gentlemen." She returned to her overhead projector and Brendon pointed his narrowed eyes toward her.

Ryan noticed Brendon's rapidly forming frown and he touched the back of the boy's hand to regain his attention. The incredible warmth of the skin probably matched that of his face, and Ryan had to let go before his quick action started to qualify as hand holding. "What were you saying?"

"Um... I can probably go if I tell my parents I'm helping to set up for the dance and clean up when it's over. So we could do stuff before and after, maybe. If you want. All of us, I mean, if El and Spencer wanna go."

Ryan thought for a second about what was just said. He noticed Brendon tightly gripping his forearm, which made Ryan cringe inside as he imagined the blisters. Even if he was not ready, he knew he had to speak. "I'm up for that. I'm sure they'll wanna go. I kinda screwed them out of it last year so I'm sure they'll be happy to go this time."

The teacher cleared her throat again, but only proceeded to continue with her lecture in a much louder, more annoyed tone. This made Brendon flinch and squirm slightly in his seat and he sent a frightened look to the front of the room before turning his attention back to Ryan. "I, uh... could we still go even if they don't want to?"

"Sure. We can tear up the dance floor and you can laugh at my awful moves, it's not like I'm gonna find a date anyway." Ryan smiled at his own bad attempt at humor and looked to Brendon for some sort of validation. Instead of a look of playful disgust, Ryan's eyes were met with painful disappointment on the boy's face. He saw Brendon's thumb push into his forearm and Ryan suddenly knew what had just happened and what Brendon had been trying so hard to do. He felt the same surge of embarrassment and confusion that he felt when he was twelve and that girl had stolen an unexpected kiss from him while they stood in front of a sculpture on a field trip to the museum. He felt his heart pounding, begging to escape the confines of his chest as he thought about exactly what Brendon had just tried to do. He felt his stomach turning, he felt his hands tingle, he felt something that was completely foreign to him.

The boy next to him had his forehead in his hand and he was clenching a fistful of hair while resting his elbow on the table. Ryan's mind was running a marathon, a cacophony of loud thoughts mingling with feelings trying to reach the finish line to win some sort of conclusion. This time, though, Ryan didn't feel violated like he did when he was a child in the museum five years ago. He felt his heart pounding in his chest with so much force that his body twitched with each life-sustaining beat. He knew what Brendon had tried to do, and he knew that his response had just about destroyed the boy's nervous efforts.

"But sure, Bren, we can go. I'll ruin your night if I try to dance, but it should be fun. I've never had anyone to... hang out with... at a dance before. I usually just sat along the wall and waited to go home." He tilted his head, bottom lip shoved inside his mouth, and watched Brendon for a sign of improvement.

"I can't dance either. We'll embarrass ourselves together." Brendon loosened his posture and looked toward the window, allowing Ryan to see a happy glisten in his eyes.

"Okay. I'm getting tired of this." The teacher slammed her hand down on projector and squawked toward the back of the room, loud enough to cause the teacher across the hall to shut his classroom door. Everyone in the room froze in their seats, hoping that their teacher would not explode or shoot someone. "I talk, you listen. Nowhere in this rule does it say that you two sit back and be disruptive. If you don't want to listen, fine, but I do not want to hear another word out of either of you. I am not going to ask you again to be quiet."

Ryan suppressed a chuckle and looked over at Brendon. The boy's face was frozen with fear, eyes wide with something Ryan couldn't describe. "Yeah, sorry." Ryan managed to keep from laughing at her shrill screaming and pointy beak. He couldn't take anyone seriously when they looked as ridiculous as she did. He didn't feel threatened but he decided it would be best to stay quiet for a while to keep her from laying another egg.

Brendon quickly crossed his arms on the table, folded in front of him, and he laid his head face down onto the surface his arms created. Ryan watched his friend's fingers dig into his arms yet again with white knuckled force, which made him feel uneasy. He started to think that Brendon might not have found the teacher's complaining to be quite as funny. He leaned back in his chair and discreetly eyed his friend, watching as he swore he could have seen the boy shaking slightly. He was not about to start another conversation, and he had no other options since he had no idea what was wrong with Brendon. The Bird Lady's complaining seemed to make him more and more uneasy after each squawk, and now he was watching as his friend seemed to be trying to disappear into himself. Ryan spent a good five minutes sending his eyes back and forth between the teacher and Brendon, trying to feign interest in the lecture while maintaining a high level of concern for his friend.

Their flowered friend at the front of the room began to pace back and forth, tapping her ruler on her hand whenever she was not using it to point out various spots on a map. Ryan tensed up when he realized that her random glares toward him were not so random as she began to make her way to the back of the room. He couldn't speak. Brendon remained collapsed on the table as she eyed up the empty surface near his head. She brought her ruler down with so much force that it snapped in half and the crack echoed through the room and stung several pairs of ears. This horrid shock sent Brendon to an upright position for a split second before he leaned toward Ryan. Ryan was just barely able to restrain his own arms and keep himself from either punching the teacher right in the beak or putting both of his arms around Brendon, who was clearly terrified. She glared at Brendon and licked her lips as he cautiously sat up with his hands still raised to his ears and face pointed to the table.

"Since you talked yourself to sleep, are you able to tell me what I just covered?"

Ryan could see his friend attempting to chew his lip off as he shyly shook his head.

"I want you to answer me, young man."

"No." Ryan was not sure if Brendon had formed a word or if he was squeaking out of intense fear.

"Look at me. What was that?" The teacher still had the last six inches of her ruler stuck in her hand, and she tapped it gently on the table.

Brendon looked up and his hands were now positioned slightly in front of his mouth. He made eye contact with the old buzzard and Ryan saw tears running down his friend's cheeks. "I said no."

She flinched at what seemed to be the sight of the boy crying and she backed off, probably out of fear of losing some job security. "That's what I thought." She turned around and continued with her lecture and other students followed her every move with their eyes, every one of them absolutely terrified of angering her further. No eyes were on the two boys in the back of the room.

Brendon stayed in the same position, tilting his face down and silently removing his glasses. They remained in his hand until Ryan gently removed them and set them aside. Brendon's hands were trembling against his face and Ryan could hear shaky breathing accompanied with glimpses of wetness all over his friend's face. He closed own eyes to regain some strength before he took his pen and began writing on the blank paper in front of him.

"I'm so sorry. We need to talk sometime. Not here. Not at school. Call me if you ever need to: 555-3289. If you use instant messenger, I'm always there. S/N - Winter We Fell"

Ryan divulged all of his contact information and folded the paper into a square. He carefully reached into Brendon's jacket pocket and placed the paper inside, getting no response from his friend. All eyes remained on the teacher, each too scared to look back at Ryan and Brendon. Inhaling and exhaling calmly, Ryan lifted his left hand and brought Brendon's right arm down below the table's surface. Brendon was as easy to move as a sleeping infant-his left hand shielded his torn face from the rest of the room, and he faced Ryan with closed, streaming eyes. He was deathly silent as he cried. Ryan had Brendon's hand resting on his left leg and Brendon didn't care enough to notice or move it. It was times like this where Ryan was not sure if he loved or hated his extreme inability to see and ignore someone in so much pain. With nobody looking on, Ryan slowly laced his spindly fingers together with Brendon's. His small act was returned with a forceful squeeze, a constant pressure accompanied by no change in Brendon's facial expression. Brendon seemed to squeeze harder and Ryan just held on. It didn't hurt too badly if he kept still and let Brendon try to empty some of his feelings. He never expected to find the boy's clammy hand laced together with his own, but if it helped his friend smile again, anything was worth it.