Weak.
weak.
Ryan doesn’t remember how long he’s been lying in bed. For all he could know, maybe Ryan’s been in bed since he was born. Brendon tells him all the time that he should stop worrying about it and that it doesn’t matter. Brendon’s right; Ryan’s probably too stubborn for his own good.
Ryan’s dog, Hobo, and Brendon are the only friends Ryan has, plus the TV that’s making the electric bill jump. He would just flip through the channels until there’s nothing else to flip to. Then he’d call Brendon in, talk for a while or tell him to fix the pillow under his head for him.
There’s a wheel chair sitting at the corner of Ryan’s room. Every day Brendon comes in and asks Ryan if he wants to get on it and go for a walk with him.
“I don’t wanna go on a rusty piece of shit.”
“It’s only rusty because you never use it.” Brendon rolls his eyes. “And your mom paid for it. Might as well use it.”
Ryan glares at his friend. “Since you like it so much, why don’t you go on it? Oh – and on the way, why don’t you pretend like you’re about, I don’t know, forty pounds and stay in bed all day. And don’t forget to try and sound like a damn miserable bastard.”
“I can’t weigh that low, silly.” Brendon rolls his eyes and tries to pull Ryan up. “And I’m not as sick as you are.”
“Please don’t rub it the fuck in.”
“Well why not?” Brendon takes the remote control from Ryan’s hand and sets it on the table where he can’t reach it. “You used to go on it all the time. Every day, actually.”
“People change.”
“Oh yeah. They usually turn into cranky ass morons like you.”
Ryan glares and turns his head away. It’s all he could do at the moment.
Both of them don’t talk for the rest of the day. Ryan doesn’t mind, he falls asleep a few minutes after Brendon leaves the room. Brendon, on the other hand, is always stressed-out. He’s pacing up and down the narrow hallway where his and Ryan’s rooms are.
Brendon comes in Ryan’s room the next morning to check on him like he always does. He pokes his head in the room from the door. “Ry?” he whispers.
Ryan grunts, telling Brendon that he heard him. Brendon walks over to him and half of Ryan’s body is hanging from the bed. Brendon smirks at him.
“What’s up with you?”
Ryan sighs and looks up at his friend. “Do you really wanna know?”
“Duh.”
“I tried to roll out of bed. Don’t laugh.”
It takes a lot for Brendon not to laugh. The older boy glares at him and tells Brendon to get him back up the bed. Brendon does so and when Ryan’s on the bed again, he says:
“Thanks. For being here. Even if you do a shitty job at it.”
Ryan’s dog, Hobo, and Brendon are the only friends Ryan has, plus the TV that’s making the electric bill jump. He would just flip through the channels until there’s nothing else to flip to. Then he’d call Brendon in, talk for a while or tell him to fix the pillow under his head for him.
There’s a wheel chair sitting at the corner of Ryan’s room. Every day Brendon comes in and asks Ryan if he wants to get on it and go for a walk with him.
“I don’t wanna go on a rusty piece of shit.”
“It’s only rusty because you never use it.” Brendon rolls his eyes. “And your mom paid for it. Might as well use it.”
Ryan glares at his friend. “Since you like it so much, why don’t you go on it? Oh – and on the way, why don’t you pretend like you’re about, I don’t know, forty pounds and stay in bed all day. And don’t forget to try and sound like a damn miserable bastard.”
“I can’t weigh that low, silly.” Brendon rolls his eyes and tries to pull Ryan up. “And I’m not as sick as you are.”
“Please don’t rub it the fuck in.”
“Well why not?” Brendon takes the remote control from Ryan’s hand and sets it on the table where he can’t reach it. “You used to go on it all the time. Every day, actually.”
“People change.”
“Oh yeah. They usually turn into cranky ass morons like you.”
Ryan glares and turns his head away. It’s all he could do at the moment.
Both of them don’t talk for the rest of the day. Ryan doesn’t mind, he falls asleep a few minutes after Brendon leaves the room. Brendon, on the other hand, is always stressed-out. He’s pacing up and down the narrow hallway where his and Ryan’s rooms are.
Brendon comes in Ryan’s room the next morning to check on him like he always does. He pokes his head in the room from the door. “Ry?” he whispers.
Ryan grunts, telling Brendon that he heard him. Brendon walks over to him and half of Ryan’s body is hanging from the bed. Brendon smirks at him.
“What’s up with you?”
Ryan sighs and looks up at his friend. “Do you really wanna know?”
“Duh.”
“I tried to roll out of bed. Don’t laugh.”
It takes a lot for Brendon not to laugh. The older boy glares at him and tells Brendon to get him back up the bed. Brendon does so and when Ryan’s on the bed again, he says:
“Thanks. For being here. Even if you do a shitty job at it.”