Topsy-Turvy
Happy new year.
Sometimes it marvels Ryan how the three of them fit together. It made a bit more sense when it was just him and Brendon. Brendon was the high-spirited kid that made Ryan appreciate life a little more and Ryan was the boy who had seen a little too much and grounded Brendon a bit. But then this girl came in and sort of dumped everything on it’s ass, topsy-turvy.
She had lived a lot. And sometimes she mirrored Ryan, seeing things she shouldn’t have, being too old for her age, having lived through hell and emerged just to tell the story. Ryan told his with words and she told hers with scars that would never fade.
But sometimes she was Brendon’s twin. Way too young and immature, refusing to pick up her dirty dishes and living in Disney movies like they contained the answers to everything. Just two children living in the bodies of adults that weren’t anything resembling grown-ups.
Ryan was gay. And she was definitely a girl. It wasn’t like it made him question everything, falling for her. It was rather natural, actually. They were so close, always snuggling and talking. Snuggling gave way to kissing which lead to the sex. And then he just fell in love with her.
And she wasn’t Brendon’s type physically, at all. She wasn’t pretty enough. Wasn’t tall enough or skinny enough. She was cute, but she also looked about fourteen years old. Brendon liked girls that looked like they had too much sex, drank a little too much, and knew they were hot. So it was different when he fell for her. But maybe it was for the best.
“Did you get everything you wanted?” Ryan asks her one night.
She looks at him and smiles. “Most of it.”
He knows it’s true. She has Brendon and she has Ryan. But she’s never going to be completely happy in the one hundred percent way. She has Bipolar and her heart has been fractured too deeply to ever be completely whole again. He knows that he and Brendon are just Band-Aids.
He’s seen Dru break more completely than anyone else except maybe her mother or Kristen. More than Brendon even. Because Brendon stormed out the night it happened after he screamed at her, things that he still hates himself for, things Dru still hears in her head sometimes.
‘No wonder she left you, you fucked up bitch. I don’t know what the fuck I was smoking when I asked you out.’
Ryan’s pulled the razorblade out of her fingers, heard the psychotic baby-voice when she regresses. Ryan’s kissed the cuts and the scars that will never heal. Ryan’s rubbed her shoulders while she throws up pills into the toilet.
They don’t really fit together. Ryan, the somewhat depressed optimist that grew up too fast; Brendon, the neurotic child with the energy of a Red Bull factory; and Dru, with her sad eyes and scarred up arms that loves with every inch of her body and never gets the satisfaction she should from the love she gets back.
But Ryan always thought puzzles were stupid anyway, always gave up before he put the pieces together.
He feels arms around his neck. Dru kisses his cheek and Brendon his mouth. “Happy New Year, baby.” the girl whispers. “Make a wish.”
“You don’t make wishes on New Years’.” Brendon insists.
“I do.” the girl replies, sticking her tongue out.
Ryan doesn’t wish, but he thinks. He could wish for Dru’s pure happiness, but it would be a waste of a wish. He could wish for the new album to do amazing, but he doesn’t care enough to make it a wish. He could wish for everything to work out, but it all does in the end, really. Whether we like the way it works out or not, it works out. Otherwise it wouldn’t be the end.
He pulls Dru into his lap and squeezes Brendon’s hand.
“Happy New Year, Ry.” his boyfriend says, smiling.
And it is.
She had lived a lot. And sometimes she mirrored Ryan, seeing things she shouldn’t have, being too old for her age, having lived through hell and emerged just to tell the story. Ryan told his with words and she told hers with scars that would never fade.
But sometimes she was Brendon’s twin. Way too young and immature, refusing to pick up her dirty dishes and living in Disney movies like they contained the answers to everything. Just two children living in the bodies of adults that weren’t anything resembling grown-ups.
Ryan was gay. And she was definitely a girl. It wasn’t like it made him question everything, falling for her. It was rather natural, actually. They were so close, always snuggling and talking. Snuggling gave way to kissing which lead to the sex. And then he just fell in love with her.
And she wasn’t Brendon’s type physically, at all. She wasn’t pretty enough. Wasn’t tall enough or skinny enough. She was cute, but she also looked about fourteen years old. Brendon liked girls that looked like they had too much sex, drank a little too much, and knew they were hot. So it was different when he fell for her. But maybe it was for the best.
“Did you get everything you wanted?” Ryan asks her one night.
She looks at him and smiles. “Most of it.”
He knows it’s true. She has Brendon and she has Ryan. But she’s never going to be completely happy in the one hundred percent way. She has Bipolar and her heart has been fractured too deeply to ever be completely whole again. He knows that he and Brendon are just Band-Aids.
He’s seen Dru break more completely than anyone else except maybe her mother or Kristen. More than Brendon even. Because Brendon stormed out the night it happened after he screamed at her, things that he still hates himself for, things Dru still hears in her head sometimes.
‘No wonder she left you, you fucked up bitch. I don’t know what the fuck I was smoking when I asked you out.’
Ryan’s pulled the razorblade out of her fingers, heard the psychotic baby-voice when she regresses. Ryan’s kissed the cuts and the scars that will never heal. Ryan’s rubbed her shoulders while she throws up pills into the toilet.
They don’t really fit together. Ryan, the somewhat depressed optimist that grew up too fast; Brendon, the neurotic child with the energy of a Red Bull factory; and Dru, with her sad eyes and scarred up arms that loves with every inch of her body and never gets the satisfaction she should from the love she gets back.
But Ryan always thought puzzles were stupid anyway, always gave up before he put the pieces together.
He feels arms around his neck. Dru kisses his cheek and Brendon his mouth. “Happy New Year, baby.” the girl whispers. “Make a wish.”
“You don’t make wishes on New Years’.” Brendon insists.
“I do.” the girl replies, sticking her tongue out.
Ryan doesn’t wish, but he thinks. He could wish for Dru’s pure happiness, but it would be a waste of a wish. He could wish for the new album to do amazing, but he doesn’t care enough to make it a wish. He could wish for everything to work out, but it all does in the end, really. Whether we like the way it works out or not, it works out. Otherwise it wouldn’t be the end.
He pulls Dru into his lap and squeezes Brendon’s hand.
“Happy New Year, Ry.” his boyfriend says, smiling.
And it is.