Countless minutes were spent silently awaiting the sting to the ears from a ringing bell in the hallway, and Ryan considered himself a mess of thoughts. He sat still, breathing, waiting, and not for a second did he let go of Brendon's hand. Any reservations he may have had about taking his friend's hand were completely washed away with the tears that were starting to evaporate from the boy's face.

Brendon tightened his grip several times throughout the remainder of the class, squeezing quickly and slowly letting go, each grasp reminding him that someone cared. Finally, Brendon was able to relax. He appeared so calm that he could have been mistaken for being asleep had it not been for the constant movements of his lip as it slid in and out of his mouth, his teeth grazing the delicate skin each time before and after they bit down. He was beginning to calm down even though his heart was pounding with such force that he heard a pulsing, raspy rush in his ears, making it easy for him to ignore the lecture that he didn't want to pay attention to. He couldn't help but to feel ashamed even though he knew that nobody else could hear the pounding in his chest and ears. It was loud to him, but he had still stopped trying to make himself completely invisible.

Brendon could feel Ryan's eyes tracing his every feature and he hoped Ryan would not let go. Though loose, Brendon's fingers folded over and rested gently on the back of Ryan's bony hand, his friend's thumb completely trapped in the circle created by his thumb and forefinger. Their hands sat comfortably entwined on top of Ryan's leg until the quick outburst of the bell prompted one last awkward squeeze from each boy before they both reluctantly let go.

Brendon kept his eyes focused on the surface of the table while he waited for the rest of the class to make their quick exit. Ryan stayed behind as well, hoping for words or facial expressions but being completely blindsided by the coldness when Brendon left the room in a hurry with not so much as a goodbye. Ryan tried to follow him, only to realize that it was of no use once Brendon ducked into the restroom.

Ryan found himself frozen and confused in the middle of the hallway. Bodies pushed past him and their quick contact kept him from standing still. Realizing that he was in the way, he started to force his feet to move, sloppily pushing himself forward while he stared at the bathroom door until it was no longer possible to keep his eyes casually turned in the proper direction. He decided to try to abandon his emotions for a couple minutes and just focus on finding his seat in the cafeteria. He knew that study hall would provide a good fifty minutes for a flood of thoughts to drown him. Exhaling loudly, annoyed, he joined a large group of students at the front of the cafeteria. They were gathered around several copies of a seating chart, quickly looking for their last names on one of the circles that symbolized the tightly packed tables. Ryan found his name on the same circle as "K. Roberts" and he made his way toward the back of the cafeteria, mentally scolding the school system for poor planning. Twisting and turning sideways, he knew that the solution of "add more tables" would soon stop solving the problem of "too many students," but until the tax levy passed, he knew the students would continue to be treated like sardines.

He sat down at his table in the second to last row and waited for Brendon, who we knew had to show up sooner or later, even if he was unsure of where he would be sitting. He still had not caught Brendon's last name. Ryan hoped that study hall would be a little more relaxed than it always had been at his other school because he was sick of trying to pretend to work on homework that he didn't really have. 'K. Roberts' seemed to come out of nowhere and he gave Ryan a friendly nod as he sat down. Ryan bent and cracked his fingers under the table while he slightly bounced around in his chair to the beat of the music in his head. He concentrated on the imagined sound and let it ease his mind. A red blur caught his eye and he stopped moving, now watching Brendon move to the table next to his in the last row. Ryan turned toward him slightly and waited for some sort of acknowledgement.

Looking at the table, Brendon shifted his eyes sideways for a second before licking his lips and opening his notebook. His mouth formed a small smile before he turned his head to face Ryan. Their four eyes locked and Ryan couldn't hold himself back from matching Brendon's smile. They sat studying each other for a second, Ryan wondering what had triggered his friend's strong reaction to their teacher's anger, Brendon still ashamed and wondering why Ryan had decided to help him when he could have simply ignored his distress. After a few short seconds, they both looked away and listened to the middle aged study hall monitor request that everyone keep their voices to a quiet whisper if they wanted to keep the privilege of being able to talk at all.

Ryan didn't feel like talking, and Brendon didn't appear to be having a hard time putting his words onto paper instead of into the air. Ryan stared at K. Roberts' stack of books while he started to wonder if he had really taken the best course of action back in history class. Regardless, he knew it was worth it because he knew Brendon appreciated it. His smile just seconds before, and the last squeeze of his hand before they got up from their seats-he definitely knew that he had been needed, and Ryan continued to justify his actions even further. Brendon was the one squeezing his hand several times, and it was Brendon's hand that had trapped Ryan's hand the entire time, not once trying to let go. Ryan wondered if he should even worry about what happened, because after all, Brendon could have let go at any time. But he didn't. He kept holding on. However, Brendon's quick departure from class was just enough to make Ryan think he may have given his friend the wrong impression. This thought made Ryan particularly uncomfortable in a few too many ways because he didn't know if there was even a wrong idea to give. Everything about what happened had made him feel right. He was only using a technique that Spencer used many times in the past-a simple grab of the hand when no words would suffice-but Ryan knew that it never made Spencer feel this way. What this way was, Ryan didn't know, but he just tried to be glad that he had done what he did.

Ryan's mind went back to the insensitive comment he had made about the dance. He figured it had to be hard for Brendon to ask friends to do things, and he kept telling himself this in order to not think about what he knew had really happened. Brendon wanted a date to the dance and he was hurt by Ryan's comment about going with him instead of finding a date. The kid across the table was scribbling some numbers out of a math book while randomly resorting to his calculator, and Ryan propped his head up on his right arm to try to give the appearance of pure boredom. Ryan's mind could not have been more occupied. Brendon was awkwardly huddled over his notebook with his left arm curled around the top of it to prevent anyone from possibly seeing it while it laid flat on the table. His right hand held the pen that was obsessively scrawling words, or what Ryan figured were words, onto the tattered notebook. Ryan could see the edges and the bent corners, corners turned slightly upward due to too much rubbing from Brendon's arm. It looked like he treated this notebook as Ryan did his computer, and Ryan was slightly envious. Brendon could carry this with him anywhere and nobody would raise an eyebrow. Ryan knew that if he were to build the muscles needed to drag the old laptop everywhere, it would simply not be acceptable for him to break it out and start typing whenever he wished. But no, Brendon didn't have this problem. His writing could easily be disguised as note taking while in class, and in the end, he could hold it against his chest and easily walk away.

Brendon's notebook didn't have a battery life. He didn't have to worry about keeping it plugged in or having it shut down after two hours. He didn't have to fear power outages and hope that they would be corrected within a couple hours, and he knew that there was no chance of his notebook crashing and erasing every one of his thoughts. Ryan found himself breathing heavily while thinking of how easy it must be for Brendon to write whatever he wanted at any time. He was jealous. Through all this, though, Ryan knew there was one difference. His computer acted as a mask, one which he could still speak through and be heard and read the words of others when they responded to what he said. Received comments acted as sweet validation, and Ryan thrived on this response. It let him know that his thoughts meant something and that he was being heard. Ryan drew yet another conclusion about his new friend while he watched him continue to write. The words he put on paper were probably meant for his own eyes only. Ryan knew that not everything he wrote was made public, but he knew he craved the attention he got from a few certain people when he posted what he wanted to reveal on the internet. But Brendon had to finish writing at some point, and he would have to close his notebook. What was written inside would not be read by anyone else, and Ryan realized something. Nobody was hearing this boy. His words were on paper and there was no button for anyone to click and submit a reply. Nobody heard him and Ryan knew that Brendon probably didn't have any idea that there was someone willing to listen.

Ryan slid his chair toward Brendon. Only a few inches were needed to make the distance small enough. He extended his arm and tapped Brendon's elbow with the back of his hand, which caused the boy to raise his head and fold his arms on top of the notebook.

"Hey Ryan." The volume of his voice matched that of everyone else in the room. Everyone had been fairly successful, somehow, at accepting the teacher's orders.

Ryan leaned over a little farther, keeping his feet underneath his own table to avoid accusations of having moved to a different seat. His left elbow rested on the edge of Brendon's table. "Whatcha doin'?"

Brendon shook his head. "Nothing important. What's up?"

"I just wanted to say... I uh... I'm really excited for Saturday." Ryan looked down to Brendon's arms before looking back up at his mouth, waiting for a response.

Brendon smiled immediately. "Me too." He laid his head down on his arms, still facing Ryan, still smiling.

With a satisfied smile still on his face, Ryan studied the boy's dark hair and how it fell slightly over the top of his ear. Not nearly as long as Ryan's, Brendon's hair was just barely long enough to qualify as 'shaggy'. "We'll have fun." Ryan nodded in response to his own statement before he pushed himself back over to his own table. It was no mistake that his hand brushed the side of Brendon's upper arm while he was in the process of bringing it back to his own body. Even without moving over, the tables were crammed together so tightly that they were more than close enough to carry on a conversation.

Brendon reached into the pocket on the front of his jacket and pulled out the folded piece of paper that Ryan had placed inside while they were still in history class. He nodded toward it, tapping it on the surface of the table. "Thanks for this, by the way."

"I mean it." Ryan blushed from his quick response and looked at his fingers as he rubbed at the damaged skin. He remembered a clock at the front of the cafeteria and he jumped at the chance to hide his red face from Brendon. He glanced at the hands and pushed his belongings together in preparation to leave, seeing that the time was nearing 2:10. Students had begun to stand up roughly seven seconds before the bell even rang, something that obviously annoyed the teacher who knew it was useless to try to argue with a room full of forty or fifty students.

Brendon almost sprinted out to the hallway, causing Ryan to try to nonchalantly run after him, but Brendon was waiting quietly next to the doorway for his friend to make his way out. He had taken off his glasses and slid them onto the neck of his jacket with one arm of the red frame resting against his collarbone. "We have class with Spencer now, I guess."

"Yeah. Why'd you take your glasses off?"

"I don't really need them. Unless I get sick of squinting to see some small writing on a board or whatever. I usually just wear them because it's annoying to take them on and off. I'm fine without them though."

"Now it's all weird to look at you." Ryan chuckled and brought his thumbnail to his teeth. "I only saw you rubbing your eyes earlier. Guess I didn't know what you really looked like."

They arrived at their lockers and leaned against them as they realized that they had nothing to add or remove. "Well now ya do." Brendon followed his statement up with a huge, obviously fake, toothy grin, and he opened his eyes as wide as he could, thrusting his face toward Ryan's.

Ryan turned his head and rested it against his locker as he laughed. Brendon's face had returned to normal and he followed Ryan's example of leaning his head to the side, and their faces were almost close enough to bring about some confused stares if any other people had been paying attention. "Uh Brendon... about history... I-"

Brendon shook his head. "No, I'm sorry... I mean, we can talk about it later. I just kinda wanna forget about it right now. It's okay, I promise." Brendon had brought his notebook up to cover his chin and lips as he talked in a quiet voice. "That just happens sometimes."

"But what I did-"

"Was fine. What you did was fine, Ryan. Really. I'm glad you... I mean... ugh," Brendon quickly put his arm around Ryan's neck and gave him a quick but strong hug. "Just... thank you." He let go, shifting his weight a bit and removing his shoulder from the locker door. "Really. Thank you. We'll just talk later, alright?"

Ryan breathed a small sigh of defeat, suppressing the hundreds of words he wanted to say to Brendon, and he simply nodded his head. The walk to Miss Davis's room was quiet and Brendon kept his notebook held high and against his chest with the rest of his things thrown under his other arm. The tables in the classroom had been mostly pushed all the way to the back, except for eight tables arranged in an octagon in the center of the room. Miss Davis sat at one of them, her things spread out in front of her, and she gave Ryan and Brendon a smile as they entered the room. Spencer sat up in his chair when he noticed his two friends walk in, and Ryan forced himself to not run to him and hug him just for the sake of smelling his cologne. The one thing he desperately wanted at that moment was the familiar smell that would make everything okay. He settled on walking over to Spencer instead and sitting at the table next to him, even if it meant that they were divided slightly by the corner formed by the octagon. Brendon followed, taking the seat at Ryan's table, on Ryan's right side for the first time that day. Ryan smiled at Spencer, inhaling deeply and catching some of his relaxing scent even without a close hug. Spencer's knee purposefully collided with Ryan's, and Ryan just smiled.

"Happy, eh?" Spencer leaned sideways and forward, trying to accustom himself to the unconventional layout of the tables.

"What do you mean?" Ryan threw a hint of a nervous glare at Spencer, hoping it would convey his feelings and his friend would know to not joke around with him.

"Nothing. How're things?"

"Fine I guess. Fifty minutes until I get out of here, I can't complain." The familiar scent of his friend made Ryan's mind ease slightly as he dwelled on the words that had been exchanged in the hallway. People trickled into the room slowly, about twelve people total by the time the class started. Ryan hardly paid attention as Miss Davis moved from her chair to the surface of the table. This woman sure had a thing for sitting on desks and tables, but her shunning of professionalism and her friendly, approachable disposition were much welcomed after the experience with Big Bird a couple hours earlier. Ryan had to make himself listen to what Miss Davis was saying while he devoted most of his attention to the boy next to him. He felt Spencer's prying eyes watching his nervous actions, but he tried to ignore him while continuing to bend his fingers and pick at the skin. He knew Spencer could see him watching Brendon while the boy stared off into space, apparently deep in thought, but he knew Spencer well enough to know that he would keep his mouth shut and just laugh about it later. Another deep breath taken, more cologne enjoyed. Ryan was visibly worried as he took his eyes off of Brendon. Spencer playfully shoved the eraser of his pencil against Ryan's cheekbone and Ryan responded with a joking glare, narrowing his eyes and parting his lips to expose his teeth in a silent growl.

"Well guys, this class is going to be pretty laid back if you haven't noticed. I moved the tables closer so it's a bit easier to have discussions and share things, which brings me to my next point."

Ryan exaggerated his sleepiness and dramatically fell sideways with his head landing on Brendon's shoulder. Ryan wished he would have delayed his decision to sit back up because putting his head back down would have been far too inappropriate. A fraction of a second before he lifted himself up, Brendon's head came down onto Ryan's, slightly pinning it down and bringing them closer than they had been all day. Ryan's act of sitting up pushed Brendon's head up as well and Ryan immediately began giving himself a mental beating. His stomach jumped and his chest fluttered and he was still able to feel Brendon's warm head on top of his own. At that very moment, he tried to concentrate on Miss Davis, but his desire to lay his head back down onto Brendon's soft shoulder was too strong. His heart raced and all he could acceptably do was look at Brendon and try to keep his smile at bay. Ryan was starting to scare himself and he moved his nervous smile from Brendon to Spencer. Spencer shrugged, mostly unaware of just how much his friend needed him to say something distracting, but all Spencer did was raise his eyebrows sympathetically and nod towards Miss Davis. Ryan decided that focusing on the teacher was the only good option he had available to distract himself. He didn't know what Brendon was doing and he knew he would end up melting again if he decided to look and see.

"Now I don't want anyone thinking I'm going to threaten you with torture to get you to share your writing. I do hope that everyone will choose to share at least something at some point, but I know how you guys are. I know that writing can be deeply personal at times, so if I ever call on you and you don't feel like talking, just tell me. Let me know, because I'm not going to bite you." A few students chuckled nervously and Miss Davis circled around to the other side of her table to shuffle through some papers. "I actually had a student read something out loud once because she thought her grade depended on it, but she ended up having an asthma attack because she was so nervous about it. I wouldn't have asked her to do it if she just told me, 'Hey, you old hag, I'm not reading this!' So really, guys, I don't want anyone feeling too afraid to write what they want because they are afraid of everyone else hearing it. But this is going to be a safe place and those of you who do wish to share something will be able to do so. I suppose you can all assume that there is to be no uncalled for criticism or belittling people because of what they write, understood?" A few students nodded at her sudden serious tone, and she stopped talking to focus more closely on her stack of papers.

Ryan rubbed his eyes before feeling warmth consume his entire body in a flash as Brendon's leg fell a small distance sideways, allowing their knees to touch. He wasn't sure if it was on purpose or not, but he really didn't mind either way. Spencer could not see, but Ryan knew that everyone on the opposite side of the octagon had a front row seat to see whatever contact he and Brendon made. Ryan knew that concentration was officially a lost cause and he let his mind run rampant for the rest of the class, only absently scribbling down the homework assignment that Miss Davis mentioned. When the bell rang, Ryan was deep in thought about what to write for his page long description of what comes to his mind when he hears the word 'asylum'. This could get interesting.

"Guys, meet me and El out by that tree in a few minutes, 'kay?" Spencer grabbed his books and rushed out of the room, hardly waiting on a response.

Ryan and Brendon barely spoke while they tossed their things into their lockers. Brendon shoved his thermos into his bag and Ryan simply removed his empty backpack and zipped it up after shoving his jacket inside along with his halfhearted notes about the writing assignment. How hard could it be to remember one little word, anyway? Brendon shut his locker door and grabbed Ryan's shoulder before he could walk away.

"Look, I uh... I need to get home. My parents are kinda weird about me doing things on school nights, and I told them this morning that I didn't have any club stuff going on tonight, so I really don't have an excuse."

Ryan was severely disappointed, but he hid it well. "What clubs are you in?"

"None. But my parents don't need to know that. Something else we can just talk about later, okay? I really need to get home." Brendon wanted to lean in for a hug, but he decided to just reach out and grab Ryan's upper arm instead. He wasn't really sure why, but he liked it anyways. He gave his friend's arm a quick squeeze before instinctively hiding his hand away inside his pocket. "I can try to call you sometime tonight if you don't mind."

Ryan nodded. "But try to make your parents let you hang out tomorrow or something. Spence and El are awesome. I just think we should all do something."

"I can try. But I'll call you sometime tonight. See ya, Ry." Brendon walked away quickly, leaving Ryan by his locker, once again alone in a hallway that was too full of his peers.

He took his time getting to the tree. He had pretended to look busy with things in his locker while he silently berated himself for everything he had done wrong that day, but his walk down the hall and into the outdoors consisted of Ryan trying to focus on what he had done right. His mind was moving too fast, however, and all he could remember were the wounds on Brendon's arms and the way the boy's hand felt when he held it in his own.

Ellen snapped him out of his daze by throwing her arms around his neck for a tight hug. "Where'd Bren go?"

"He had to go home. He said he would call later. Maybe do something tomorrow or something. I don't know."

"Aw, Ryan... I'm sorry." Ellen put her spare arm across Ryan's waist, her other hand very occupied by Spencer's hand.

"What?"

Ellen just smiled. "Nevermind. Your place?"

"Against my better judgment, yes."

The three of them walked in a row to Spencer's car. It wasn't that Ryan couldn't drive, but there was simply never much of a reason. When he turned sixteen, his mother, thinking that a new bit of freedom would help her son in several ways, had taught him to drive. His driver's license stayed tucked away in his wallet, never used or needed, and Ryan didn't mind. He was a little more afraid of driving than anyone should ever be, for reasons that he was unsure of, and he never traveled far enough to warrant driving. Once Spencer was able to drive, though, Ryan took up residence in the back seat and he trusted that Spencer would get him to wherever he needed to be. Most of all, though, Ryan never minded walking. He liked having time to think. After everything that had happened in the previous several hours, Ryan honestly wanted to walk home. He wanted a chance to gather the pieces of his mind and try to put them back together. He reluctantly climbed into the back seat and shut the door, but he was unable to shut out the thoughts that he wanted to let sleep for a while.