Adrisole.
It cannot be stopped.
Ryan doesn’t even remember how it all happened.
Too much flashing lights. Too much screaming. Too much things being jabbed at him for him to sign. But it happened. And it didn’t matter if he couldn’t remember because it happened anyway.
He found himself analyzing it over and over again.
“Brendon?” he whispered, shaking his sleeping friend from his slumber. A disturbed face rippled Brendon’s features as he grunted.
“What is it?” he flinched when Ryan aimed the light from the flash light at his face.
Ryan smiled sheepishly. “Sorry, Bren. I couldn’t sleep.”
“You barely sleep anyway.” Brendon rubbed the sleep from his eyes and scooted out of his bed. He walked with Ryan to the small kitchen.
The tall boy twiddled with his thumbs and bit his lip. “You remember that . . . that kid we met at that one show? The one that gave me the vest with moths on it?”
Brendon searched his thoughts for a minute, drumming his fingers on his chin. “The short one that looked like he's never had ever just a blink of sleep?”
“Yeah . . .” Ryan eyed his friend nervously. His hand traveled down his right pant-pocket and pulled out a crumpled piece of folded paper. A letter – another letter from a fan.
“He wrote me a letter,” Ryan said softly, smoothing the fold-lines. “He said that I saved his life and that I was his y’know . . . life.”
Brendon looked at his friend strangely with a silly smile. “Okay? That’s . . . kind of creepy?”
The older boy chuckled. He knew Brendon would say that. “He made this word . . . adrisole.” He handed the letter to Brendon. “See?”
Brendon’s eyes scanned over the beautiful words messily scribbled on paper. Adrisole. He breathed a sigh and gave Ryan a helpless smile.
“Do you adrisole him, too?”
Ryan licked his lips, not exactly knowing what to say. He shook his head and sighed himself and looked at Brendon. He let a small smile grow on his lips.
“Yeah. I think I do.”
Too much flashing lights. Too much screaming. Too much things being jabbed at him for him to sign. But it happened. And it didn’t matter if he couldn’t remember because it happened anyway.
He found himself analyzing it over and over again.
“Brendon?” he whispered, shaking his sleeping friend from his slumber. A disturbed face rippled Brendon’s features as he grunted.
“What is it?” he flinched when Ryan aimed the light from the flash light at his face.
Ryan smiled sheepishly. “Sorry, Bren. I couldn’t sleep.”
“You barely sleep anyway.” Brendon rubbed the sleep from his eyes and scooted out of his bed. He walked with Ryan to the small kitchen.
The tall boy twiddled with his thumbs and bit his lip. “You remember that . . . that kid we met at that one show? The one that gave me the vest with moths on it?”
Brendon searched his thoughts for a minute, drumming his fingers on his chin. “The short one that looked like he's never had ever just a blink of sleep?”
“Yeah . . .” Ryan eyed his friend nervously. His hand traveled down his right pant-pocket and pulled out a crumpled piece of folded paper. A letter – another letter from a fan.
“He wrote me a letter,” Ryan said softly, smoothing the fold-lines. “He said that I saved his life and that I was his y’know . . . life.”
Brendon looked at his friend strangely with a silly smile. “Okay? That’s . . . kind of creepy?”
The older boy chuckled. He knew Brendon would say that. “He made this word . . . adrisole.” He handed the letter to Brendon. “See?”
Brendon’s eyes scanned over the beautiful words messily scribbled on paper. Adrisole. He breathed a sigh and gave Ryan a helpless smile.
“Do you adrisole him, too?”
Ryan licked his lips, not exactly knowing what to say. He shook his head and sighed himself and looked at Brendon. He let a small smile grow on his lips.
“Yeah. I think I do.”
♠ ♠ ♠
348 words.