As the Piano Keys Rang

Brendon’s mom came home at around three. This was four hours after Brendon had last seen Ryan. In those hours, Brendon didn’t cry, he didn’t sulk, he didn’t feel remorseful.

He didn’t do anything. He didn’t feel anything.

“Brendon, you’re home!” his mother said in his doorway. She dropped the laundry basket by the door and came to his bedside.

“Yeah. I wasn’t feeling well so I got a pass to leave,” Brendon lied with his eyes half-open.

“Look at you. Your eyes are all red and swollen,” His mother put her hands on his face, feeling his cheeks and forehead. “Well, I don’t feel a fever, but just in case, you should call in to work.”

“No, it’s okay. I think I can make it through work,” Brendon blankly.

“Well, you’re a better judge than me. Just make sure you get off if you’re feeling any worse. Do you want me to cook you up something?”

“No, mom. I’m fine, but thank you,” Brendon stared off towards his window as his mom left the room.

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Brendon walked into the bookstore a little later than usual. He waved to Jared at the counter and before going to his corner. He sat at the piano and sighed. He wrapped his hands over the keys. He waited to start, but he couldn’t. It was his fingers. They didn’t move. They didn’t play. They just sat there on the white keys. His brain was empty and he couldn’t force his fingers. He got up walking up to the counter.

“Hey, Jared. How are you?” Brendon said putting his hands on the counter.

“I’m okay. A little down,” she said sitting on the stool on the other side.

“Why’s that?” Brendon was beginning to think it was contagious.

“It’s just that Tom came home last night and he told me he wasn’t sure about marrying me yet. He wants to wait awhile. He left to go to cabin in the mountains. He says he needs time to think,” Jared let out a cute girly sigh.

“I’m sure he’ll come around,” Brendon said. He didn’t want to think about last night or Tom at all really.

“So how are you? How come you aren’t playing?” Jared said turning her bright eyes to him.

“Oh, I just… I’m not feeling very well today. I was wondering if you would excuse me tonight.”

“Oh, of course. You’ve been working hard, you need a break,” she smiled, “Do you want a drink before you leave. On the house?”

“I guess I’ll just have a hot coffee to brave these winter winds,” Brendon leaned over the counter.

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When Brendon got to his car, he downed the coffee. It scorched his mouth and throat, but he didn’t care. He needed to wake up. He needed feel… something.

He drove home and went to his room. The caffeine rush that would usually be in full effect right now was just making him feel twitchy. He was still half-asleep. He was still detached.

“Honey. Back so soon. Are you really feeling that bad?” Brendon’s mother was in his doorway again.

“Yeah, I think I just need to sleep it off this weekend and stay in bed,” Brendon murmured. His arm jerked across his chest, aggressively.

“Okay. I’ll leave you alone. Feel better. I love you,” Brendon’s mom shut the door.

Brendon turned off his lamp and just laid there in the darkness. He was so wiped out from his emotionally exhausting day. All of his sentiment was drained from his body. He closed his eyes and saw nothing. Opened his ears and heard silence. Used his brain and it short circuited on him. He fell, not into sleep, but into unconsciousness. Dreaming wasn’t even an option.

Brendon awoke. If he felt anything, it was disgusting. He was covered in a cold sweat and laying on the floor next to his bed. Never drink coffee again. he thought as he stood up. He looked over at the clock. It was two in the afternoon. Shit. There goes my Saturday. It’s okay, though, cause he wouldn’t have used it anyway.

He got the shower. He turned the heat up and just stood there, letting the water pour over his body. His vile body that everyone had seen and talked about. He couldn’t stand being out of his clothes, right now. He got out of the shower and pulled on his deep white v-neck and his cool mesh shorts. He convinced himself that what he picked was random.

He went down stairs, but something caught his eye on the way. The door to his sister’s room was cracked open. She was sitting on her bed with IPod headphones in. She was bent over her geography project that was due on Monday. She was coloring with her red marker. When she was done, she closed the cap and put the utensil on her bedside table. She then grabbed another marker. Brendon didn’t notice the color of the other marker, though, because his gaze stopped at the bedside table, where a silver video camera sat.

He slipped through the crack. “Sarah,” he began, “why do you have my camera?”

She shrugged her shoulders, trying to mask the fearful look in her eyes, “I don’t know, I just found it downstairs and I didn’t want anyone to take it.”

“So you put it in your room?” Brendon questioned her. “When did you find it?”

“Uh… yesterday. I was gonna give it back when you woke up. So take it,” she snapped the cap back on her marker and reached to get a new one.

Brendon grabbed it off the table. “Find anything you like on there?”

Sarah grimaced. “I didn’t look on your camera.”

“But you know what’s on here.”

“What do you mean?” she had panic in her eyes.

Brendon shrugged, “I mean word must travel fast from high school to middle school.”

Sarah looked at him blankly, “yeah… I-I guess, so.”

“So when did your school find out?” Brendon asked.

“Thursday. Same day as yours right?” her voice got quite.

“Nope,” Brendon smiled sarcastically, “my school found out Friday. Now I wonder why you guys over at the middle school were earlier informed of the link than we were. I mean, Ryan obviously uploaded it, right? So don’t you think he would send it to all his high school friends first?”

“I don’t know,” Sarah said in a monotonous voice.

“Unless, of course, a younger person uploaded it. But who would have access to my camera that’s in middle school?” Brendon tapped his finger on his lips.

“What are you getting at?” Sarah’s voice got high.

“Okay. Stop beating around the bush. Just admit it,” Brendon said putting his hands on his hips in an annoyed fashion.

“Admit what?”

“That you posted that video! Just say it!” Brendon shouted.

She starred at him blankly. There was a silence. “You’d be mad at me, though,” she almost whispered.

“Clearly, you didn’t care because you still posted it,” Brendon kept his voice down. He tried to calm himself.

“I was just mad cause you got a video camera and you lied to me about Ryan,” she looked up through her long eyelashes.

“Was it worth ruining my life over?” Brendon crossed his arms and looked at her bluntly.

She starred back at him. She looked hurt and guilty. “Well, if it helps, YouTube took it down last night cause of the… nudity.” Her voice was like a little, innocent mouse voice.

“I really just don’t want to hear it right now. You had your chance to do the right thing and you blew it,” Brendon left the room and went back to his. He shut the door and just stood there leaning against the wall. He looked down at the camera in his hand. He pulled his arm back and threw it sharply at the opposite wall. It hit hard and smattered into tiny plastic pieces.

Brendon, although his action was aggressive, was still expressionless. He sighed at the technological shit that littered his floor now. He didn’t clean it up though. He just slumped in his bed and fell asleep despite the earliness of the day.

“Brendon,” said a voice behind him. He turned and saw Ryan. “Where you been man?” But it wasn’t really Ryan because Ryan’s face was distorted and misshapen. His grin was too large and his eyes were too small. His ears stuck out too far and the edge of his nose hung forward a couple of inches.

“You’re not Ryan,” Brendon said in a scared voice.

“Of course, I am, baby,” Ryan put his hands on Brendon’s hips. They were slimy and cold like a fish.

“Don’t touch me!” Brendon said forcefully pushing his hands off. They left gooey stains on his shirt.

“Ah, don’t get mad. I only want to love you,” his eyes flicked to the side. When Brendon’s eyes followed, there was a line of photographers snapping his picture and screaming out, “Kiss him! Fuck him!”

“No, get away!” Brendon shouted and ran the opposite way.

“Brendon, we’ve been waiting for you,” it was Brendon’s parents, but again not them. They were gray like zombies and had maggots coating their skin, feasting on their flesh. They were making dinner. His father was sharpening a massive butcher knife. His face turned from a somber, zombie face to an angry glare that forced steam out of his ears, “So tell us about this movie you were in. I heard your role was very convincing.”

His mother’s faces turned from gray to green, “Brendon, we did not take you to church every Sunday, just so you could mess yourself up with this little phase you’re going through!” Her voice was angry and high like a yappy dog.

Brendon ran again but was falling now. He fell for what seemed forever. Finally, he hit the ground and could feel himself laying on the soil. He got up and brushed the dirt off his shirt, but felt little sharp edges digging into his arms. He was in a thorny rose bush. He held his arms up to protect himself, but the thorns just cut deeper and deeper. The blood was pouring down his arms, soaking his white shirt. He began to run.

He found an opening in the vines and escaped. He looked up and saw a large white farm house. The shades were drawn closed in all the windows. Brendon heard the faint sound of music and followed it. He went in the house and climbed the creaky staircase. The music was getting louder. He looked down the long hallways. The wood was decaying and the paint was peeling. He saw bats staring at him as he walked. He saw a door on the left with light coming from beneath it. He put his ear to it. Music. He grabbed the ancient door knob and twisted it. He went into the room and looked around. It was like another world. Chandeliers hung from the wooden rafters and the smell of cigarettes and bleach filled the air. The music was most audible now. He turned towards it. He jumped at the sight. It was a massive organ that took up the entire back wall. From the pipes, played a deafening hyme that scratched at Brendon’s brain and made him cringe inside. Seven. He got closer to the organ. At the base of the pipes were the manuals which the organist was playing with his crafty fingers. He was wearing a velvet dinner jacket with floral imprint going down the well crafted back. Brendon continued walking towards the organist. He reached out his hand. It shook nervously. He touched the musician’s shoulder and felt the ice coldness through his jacket. The player stopped the wicked song before turning towards Brendon.

It was him.

Himself, that is.

He wasn’t distorted or discolored. It was a mirror image of himself. He had a wild look in his eyes, like a serial killer on a spree. “I’m glad you’re here,” he said in the same voice. “My shift is over. It’s your turn now.

Brendon backed away. He tried to turn but the other him grabbed his arm. His nails dug into the cuts left by the thorns. He pulled with inhuman strength. He dragged Brendon to the organ and sat him down. “No,” Brendon said, “you can’t make me play that song again!”

“Oh, yes I can! This is how you feel. You can’t escape how you feel,” he pressured Brendon’s shoulders, forcing him on the bench.

“This isn’t how I feel. This is how you feel! I don’t have to do this,” he screamed and he felt his emotions bubbling inside him A mixture of pain, sadness, fear, and rage.

“But you do Brendon! But you do,” his cold fingers dug into his shoulders uncomfortably.

“Stop it! Get off me!” Brendon arms flew out trying to get away. He closed his eyes and tried to shut out the voice.

“Brendon. Brendon. Stop. It’s okay,” he said. It was calming down. It was changing from wild to sweet. From evil to good.

“No, it’s not. It’s not okay!” Brendon grabbed onto his ears.

“Shhhh, it’s okay. You're safe,” the voice said in his ear.

Brendon opened his eyes. He looked up and didn’t see himself, but Ryan. Real Ryan. His eyes were light, but had a backdrop of fear in them. Brendon suddenly felt his skin. It was wet and cold. He looked around. It was dark outside and only lights in sight were the corner lights at the end of his street. He looked to Ryan. “Where am I now?”

“Now, you’re in my front yard,” Ryan said raising his eyebrows at Brendon. “Don’t worry, though. It’s real life.”

Brendon was confused. His head hurt, “but where did the farm house go… and the organ.”

“Their all gone. They weren’t real,” Ryan whispered.

“Then why are you here?” Brendon’s eyebrows bent.

“Cause I heard you screaming,” Ryan scratched at his hair.

“Why am I all wet? And freezing?” Brendon could feel his shirt sticking to his skin. A shiver ran down his back as he began to realize how cold he was.

“Cause you chose to have this sleepwalking thing on the same night that Nevada got the first frost of the year,” Ryan smiled, mocking him. “Let’s get you home. Sound good?”

Brendon just kind of sat there, taking the situation in. His mind was not really awake yet and he wasn’t quite sure that this wasn’t a part of his dream. He felt two warm hands grab under his legs and behind his head. He felt himself being lifted in the air, closer to the sky.

He felt the steps that Ryan took on the cement. His feet made a sticky sound that made it easy to guess that he wasn’t wearing any shoes. He watched the sky and the line of houses float by. He felt Ryan turn and he was traveling up his front walk. Past the broken porch column and to his door. It was unlocked and Ryan easily twisted it open, walking into his house. He shut the door silently and padded up the stairs, trying to balance Brendon in his arms. He got up to his room, setting him on the bed.

He shut the door and turned to Brendon, “we should get you some new clothes.” He went over to the dresser and pulled out a new t-shirt and a pair of fleece sweatpants. He threw them at Brendon.

Brendon looked down at the clothes and then up at Ryan. His face was blank and he was incoherent.

Ryan sighed and went over to him. He took off his wet shirt and shorts before replacing them with the new clothes. He went to hang the wet ones in Brendon’s shower. He came back. “Come on, buddy. It’s time to sleep again.”

“No, I can’t sleep. No,” Brendon protested. Sleeping meant dreaming to him.

“Well, then just lay down. Come on, I’ll help,” Ryan went over to Brendon’s bed and laid him down placing the blanket over his body. He went around to the other side and slid in lying next to him.

Brendon faced him, his head resting on a pillow but his brown eyes were wide and starring at Ryan. He reached out and touched his face. It was warm and soft. It was real. He pulled his arm back. “I can’t sleep,” Brendon said not informing but commanding himself.

“Yes, you can and you will,” Ryan scooted closer to him. He grabbed his head and tucked him under his arm, so that his head lay nicely on his chest. He began running his fingers over the back of Brendon’s head.

“Ryan. I don’t want to dream again,” Brendon said with fear in his voice.

“Shh, you won’t baby. I’ll make sure I stop all of them,” Ryan whispered in his ear. His breath was warm and calming. He smelled like Irish Springs soap. His hand felt so nice as it stroked his hair. He felt his eye lids drooping until he couldn’t stop them no more. He was out into a perfect, dreamless sleep.