Drink of the River
Διόνυσος
(Atë)
There’s a needle in Ryan’s vein. Brendon sees, but he doesn’t say anything. And then later it’s screams and yells. Ryan cries until he can’t anymore. He’s left sitting on the bed hiccupping while Brendon throws some clothes and his iPod in a suitcase before leaving to go back to his apartment. Ryan’s alone.
He throws his head back to scream, but the noise won’t come out.
So instead, he sleeps.
(Morpheus)
Ryan’s lying in a hospital bid while an old woman in a nurse’s uniform stands over him. She presses a glass into his hand.
“Drink, my child, drink.”
Ryan lifts the glass to his lips and swallows, sputtering and gasping, choking as the acidic liquid burns sliding down his throat. He can’t take in breath and after a moment, the edges of the room begin to darken.
“Do not bear false witness.” She presses two fingers to his forehead and Ryan collapses.
(Alectrona)
Ryan sits up in bed, gasping for breath. He’s soaked in sweat. His shirt is sticking to his skin. His mouth is dry. Slowly, he gets up and walks to the kitchen, getting a glass from the dishwasher and turning the faucet on. He drinks slowly, but steadily until the glass is empty. He opens his mouth to say something, but he remembers the house is empty. And, really, what is there to say?
He slides down the wall until he’s sitting on the floor. And he cries, alone in the house, the noises echoing off the walls. And when the tears are gone, he lies down on the floor. His eyes close and he slips into darkness.
(Eosphorus)
It’s morning now. Ryan’s eyes open slowly. His shoulder hurts, his bones ache. His eyes sting. There’s light creeping under the blinds to splay across the floor. Ryan is still alone. The house is still empty. And there’s still no reason to speak. He puts a bagel in the toaster, starts a pot of coffee, lights a cigarette.
He sits in front of the television, watching the channel he had left it on, staring blankly at a show about Hitler’s obsession with the occult. He forgets about the bagel and the coffee, just smokes his way through the remaining seven cigarettes in the box. Then he puts on shoes and drives to the corner store, holding up the empty box of cigarettes and his I.D. He pays with a ten dollar bill and leaves before getting the change.
He goes home and sits on the couch, smoking until his stomach twists and his head pounds. Then he lies down and closes his eyes.
(Morpheus)
“You could tell me why.” Brendon says.
Ryan opens his mouth, but no words come out. What is there to say? What can he say? ‘It was just once. I wanted to try it. Just once.’ He doesn’t know why. It was there, he said yes.
“That’s what I thought.”
(Eris)
Ryan wakes up, lights another cigarette. His hands are trembling and it takes a few tries before the lighter will hold the flame. He’s crying again, for a few moments before he even realizes. His cheeks are raw from tears. His eyelashes are stuck together.
‘Ruining everything. Disaster. Tidal wave, earthquake. Shouldn’t be too surprised. You expected this. You can’t keep anything together.’ The words are thought, echoed in his head. He still can’t bring himself to speak. He still can’t find anything worth saying.
Day leaves and night comes. Then day and night once more. He loses track of the rotations of dark and light. What day is it? His cell phone is dead. His laptop is dead. He doesn’t own a calendar. He leaves to get cigarettes, occasionally something to eat or drink. His dreams don’t abate; his tears eventually run out. He falls asleep in the bathtub, the backyard, the hallway, his car.
Still there’s nothing to say. And still there’s no one to say it to. Brendon hasn’t come by. And if he’s called it’s straight to voicemail. The television is still on the same channel and the bagel is still in the toaster. Ryan’s still out to dry.
What do you say? What can you say?
(Morpheus)
Ryan’s in the hospital bed again and the nurse is there. She presses a glass into his hands. “Drink.”
And even despite what happened before, he does. No burning, just softness, a feeling of release.
“Simple. Perfect. Begin.” She presses two fingers to his forehead and he sleeps.
(Efreisone)
Ryan wakes up. He showers and smokes a cigarette. He puts on clothes and paces. He smokes another cigarette. He gets in the car and drives. He knocks, once, twice. He still doesn’t know what to say.
The door opens and Brendon’s standing there. He says nothing.
And Ryan’s silent for a moment. “It’s just. That I’m sorry.” His own voice surprises him, it’s been so long since he heard it.
Brendon nods, doesn’t say anything.
“And I love you.” Ryan nods slowly. “And that’s it.”
He leaves and Brendon stands there for a moment before slowly shutting the door.
(Asclepius)
It’s a few days. Ryan smokes, showers, doesn’t speak. Television is still on the same channel but he throws the bagel out when it starts to grow mold.
And then one night there’s a knock on the door. And Ryan opens it and Brendon’s standing on the porch. He’s twisting his hands. “You just, you scare me, you know? Because when you decide you need something, you fucking need it, Ry. And no one’s going to tell you no. It’s just the way it’s going to be. And I don’t want you to need that. I can’t save you from something like that.”
And then Brendon’s stumbling forward and his hands are on either side of Ryan’s face, stroking his cheeks before fisting in his hair. And he falls into Ryan, crying weakly into his chest. Ryan lets him for a moment before helping him inside. He puts Brendon to bed and tucks him in, lying beside him and stroking his hair until the younger boy falls asleep.
(Eos)
It’s just before they can see the sun, but it’s light out. They’re sitting in the backyard in silence, drinking lukewarm coffee and smoking cigarettes.
“And I love you.” Brendon says suddenly.
Ryan nods. “I love you.”
“Since?”
Ryan shakes his head.
Brendon leans in and brushes his lips softly against the exposed curve of Ryan’s neck.
And they sit there, watching the sun come up and smoking cigarettes. And they go inside later and Brendon picks up the remote, changing the channel on the TV.
There’s a needle in Ryan’s vein. Brendon sees, but he doesn’t say anything. And then later it’s screams and yells. Ryan cries until he can’t anymore. He’s left sitting on the bed hiccupping while Brendon throws some clothes and his iPod in a suitcase before leaving to go back to his apartment. Ryan’s alone.
He throws his head back to scream, but the noise won’t come out.
So instead, he sleeps.
(Morpheus)
Ryan’s lying in a hospital bid while an old woman in a nurse’s uniform stands over him. She presses a glass into his hand.
“Drink, my child, drink.”
Ryan lifts the glass to his lips and swallows, sputtering and gasping, choking as the acidic liquid burns sliding down his throat. He can’t take in breath and after a moment, the edges of the room begin to darken.
“Do not bear false witness.” She presses two fingers to his forehead and Ryan collapses.
(Alectrona)
Ryan sits up in bed, gasping for breath. He’s soaked in sweat. His shirt is sticking to his skin. His mouth is dry. Slowly, he gets up and walks to the kitchen, getting a glass from the dishwasher and turning the faucet on. He drinks slowly, but steadily until the glass is empty. He opens his mouth to say something, but he remembers the house is empty. And, really, what is there to say?
He slides down the wall until he’s sitting on the floor. And he cries, alone in the house, the noises echoing off the walls. And when the tears are gone, he lies down on the floor. His eyes close and he slips into darkness.
(Eosphorus)
It’s morning now. Ryan’s eyes open slowly. His shoulder hurts, his bones ache. His eyes sting. There’s light creeping under the blinds to splay across the floor. Ryan is still alone. The house is still empty. And there’s still no reason to speak. He puts a bagel in the toaster, starts a pot of coffee, lights a cigarette.
He sits in front of the television, watching the channel he had left it on, staring blankly at a show about Hitler’s obsession with the occult. He forgets about the bagel and the coffee, just smokes his way through the remaining seven cigarettes in the box. Then he puts on shoes and drives to the corner store, holding up the empty box of cigarettes and his I.D. He pays with a ten dollar bill and leaves before getting the change.
He goes home and sits on the couch, smoking until his stomach twists and his head pounds. Then he lies down and closes his eyes.
(Morpheus)
“You could tell me why.” Brendon says.
Ryan opens his mouth, but no words come out. What is there to say? What can he say? ‘It was just once. I wanted to try it. Just once.’ He doesn’t know why. It was there, he said yes.
“That’s what I thought.”
(Eris)
Ryan wakes up, lights another cigarette. His hands are trembling and it takes a few tries before the lighter will hold the flame. He’s crying again, for a few moments before he even realizes. His cheeks are raw from tears. His eyelashes are stuck together.
‘Ruining everything. Disaster. Tidal wave, earthquake. Shouldn’t be too surprised. You expected this. You can’t keep anything together.’ The words are thought, echoed in his head. He still can’t bring himself to speak. He still can’t find anything worth saying.
Day leaves and night comes. Then day and night once more. He loses track of the rotations of dark and light. What day is it? His cell phone is dead. His laptop is dead. He doesn’t own a calendar. He leaves to get cigarettes, occasionally something to eat or drink. His dreams don’t abate; his tears eventually run out. He falls asleep in the bathtub, the backyard, the hallway, his car.
Still there’s nothing to say. And still there’s no one to say it to. Brendon hasn’t come by. And if he’s called it’s straight to voicemail. The television is still on the same channel and the bagel is still in the toaster. Ryan’s still out to dry.
What do you say? What can you say?
(Morpheus)
Ryan’s in the hospital bed again and the nurse is there. She presses a glass into his hands. “Drink.”
And even despite what happened before, he does. No burning, just softness, a feeling of release.
“Simple. Perfect. Begin.” She presses two fingers to his forehead and he sleeps.
(Efreisone)
Ryan wakes up. He showers and smokes a cigarette. He puts on clothes and paces. He smokes another cigarette. He gets in the car and drives. He knocks, once, twice. He still doesn’t know what to say.
The door opens and Brendon’s standing there. He says nothing.
And Ryan’s silent for a moment. “It’s just. That I’m sorry.” His own voice surprises him, it’s been so long since he heard it.
Brendon nods, doesn’t say anything.
“And I love you.” Ryan nods slowly. “And that’s it.”
He leaves and Brendon stands there for a moment before slowly shutting the door.
(Asclepius)
It’s a few days. Ryan smokes, showers, doesn’t speak. Television is still on the same channel but he throws the bagel out when it starts to grow mold.
And then one night there’s a knock on the door. And Ryan opens it and Brendon’s standing on the porch. He’s twisting his hands. “You just, you scare me, you know? Because when you decide you need something, you fucking need it, Ry. And no one’s going to tell you no. It’s just the way it’s going to be. And I don’t want you to need that. I can’t save you from something like that.”
And then Brendon’s stumbling forward and his hands are on either side of Ryan’s face, stroking his cheeks before fisting in his hair. And he falls into Ryan, crying weakly into his chest. Ryan lets him for a moment before helping him inside. He puts Brendon to bed and tucks him in, lying beside him and stroking his hair until the younger boy falls asleep.
(Eos)
It’s just before they can see the sun, but it’s light out. They’re sitting in the backyard in silence, drinking lukewarm coffee and smoking cigarettes.
“And I love you.” Brendon says suddenly.
Ryan nods. “I love you.”
“Since?”
Ryan shakes his head.
Brendon leans in and brushes his lips softly against the exposed curve of Ryan’s neck.
And they sit there, watching the sun come up and smoking cigarettes. And they go inside later and Brendon picks up the remote, changing the channel on the TV.