The Young and Lost Club
031
A couple months ago, I had given Brendon a key to my apartment. It had been a huge step for me. I couldn’t remember ever giving a boyfriend a key to me before. Even Oliver and I had hooked up for a long period of time. The first time he used it was when I had gotten sick over the fall with a horrible bout of the flu. I rarely ever got sick, but when I did it was usually pretty bad.
When I realized I was getting really ill, I had gone to the kitchen, grabbed a box of saltine crackers, a case of water and a trashcan, calling out of work and warning the guys to stay away unless they wanted to get what I had, and retreated to my. And two days later, that’s where I still was, and supplies were running low.
My phone rang, jerking me awake from the doze I had fallen into, and I slowly reached out from my mountain of comforters and brought it up to my ear.
“Hello?” I croaked.
“Hey kid.”
“Brendon!” I said, trying to muster up some energy to sound excited. I hadn’t spoken to him yesterday, because I spent most of the day sleeping, or puking.
“You sound awful,” he said, sounding worried.
“Yeah,” I said. “Probably because I’m dying.”
“Oh you are not.” Brendon said with a scoff. “Don’t be dramatic, Taylor said it was the flu.”
“It’s death.”
“Drama queen.”
“Well, looks like someone just got uninvited to my funeral.”
Brendon laughed. “Damn it!”
“Hang on, I got to puke,” I mumbled, putting down the phone and retching into the trashcan, which I had been doing so much that my ribs and stomach hurt. “Ugh,” I said about three minutes later, picking up the phone again. “Sorry.”
“No, I’m sorry. You sound really sick.”
“I am, and it sucks balls.” I muttered. “I’m going to go brush my teeth. Call me tomorrow?”
“Of course, you get some rest, I’ll call you tomorrow.”
“Ok,” I agreed, getting up and making my way to the bathroom.
“Love you, and feel better, okay?”
“I’ll try, love you too.”
I decided to take a shower instead, and it felt nice, but left me completely wiped out, and I fell into a deep sleep, waking up only once or twice to puke again, until I heard a key scratching into my front door from where I was buried under my covers at around 7 am.
I figured it was Max, Taylor or Brian, coming to check on me, but why so early I had no clue.
“Clark?” The voice was muffled.
“In here,” I groaned, and suddenly the covers were lifted up (I squinted at the bright light flooding in) only to reveal a smiling Brendon. “Brendon?!” I practically shrieked.
“Move over,” he said, kicking off his shoes and scooting in next to me.
“But…but…” I said, still looking at him in amazement.
“We didn’t really have anything planned the next couple of days.” He said snuggling into me. “God, you’re freezing!” He exclaimed, rubbing my hands between his, and wrapping his long legs around mine.
“You’re going to get sick,” I protested.
He shrugged. “I drank a carton of orange juice and I got my flu shot this year. Hopefully I’ll be okay.” He said, smoothing my hair back and kissing my forehead. “Besides, I was worried about you.”
“Aww,” I said, snuggling into him. “Sick Clark is the non-fun version though.”
He laughed. “I’m not here for fun, I’m here to take care of you.”
We spent the rest of the week in my bed, just the two of us. And it was perfect.
|||
I found no comfort in being back in my apartment.
Everything there had a memory of Brendon attached. I had retreated to my bedroom, having thrown off all the sheets, because I thought I could smell him on them, and instead curled up on a bare mattress, staring at the wall.
I got sick of my phone buzzing. Calls from him, calls from Ryan, calls from Max, Taylor, Brian, Spencer, Jon, hell, even a phone call from Zack, the security guard. And then it was the text messages. Constant buzzing, constant reminders and chirps. I dropped the phone out the window. It was still ringing as Brendon tried to call again when it hit the concrete.
Max, Brian and Taylor all stopped by, tried to make me eat, tried to talk some sense into me, but eventually left when I begged them to. I wanted to be alone. No one understood what it was like to keep seeing his hands on her body.
A broken heart couldn’t be fixed. Didn’t they understand that? My heart…no, I was shattered. And I wanted to be left alone.
On my third day of self imprisonment, I had gotten up to get a glass of water, when there was a knock on the door. I knew instantly it was Brendon. Old habits die hard, and even as we both were falling apart, he still remembered he always knocked once, followed by three quick ones.
I stood frozen, the faucet still on, my glass overflowing into the sink. The knock came again, more insistent this time, and I wondered briefly why he wasn’t using the key I had given him, making his surprise visits even more of a surprise. It hurt to even think about that, that he wouldn’t use the key, because it was just showing how quickly the distance had grown between us.
I took a shaky breath, dropping the glass in the sink, and turning off the water, steeling myself for what was sure to come and then walked the short steps to the door and flung it open.
He looked awful, no, he looked beyond awful. He looked ill and half mad, his hair was everywhere, he obviously hadn’t slept, or shaved, his clothes were wrinkled, his nose was bruised blue and purple from where I hit him, but worst of all were his eyes: usually bright and happy, but now they were dull, and puffy and red-lined as if he’d been crying.
“Clark,” He said, his voice was destroyed, all hoarse and thick sounding. He cleared his throat and tried again. “Clark.” He reached his hands out to me, looking helpless, and all at once, my anger flared up again. How dare he come here looking like this? How dare he make me feel bad for him, like I was the one who’d done all this, like I was the one who destroyed myself like I was a goddamn masochist or something. How dare he show up on my doorstep, how dare he invade my personal grief, over HIM. He was the one in her bed, his lips and hands on her body, letting her touch him, letting them get carried away…I wanted to murder him, I wanted to rip him from limb to limb so maybe he could feel an ounce of the pain he had inflicted on me.
“Why are you here?” I spat furiously, my hands balling up in fists, and he visibly flinched at my voice. Good.
“Clark,” he said again. “I…please…”
“Please what, Brendon? Don’t you dare come asking for favors from me!” I snarled.
He was quiet for a long moment, his head bowed, slightly, and when he looked up, his eyes were filled with tears that he tried furiously to bat away. “I know that. I know, Clark, I just had to see you. I…can I please come in?”
I considered telling him no, slamming the door in his face, never seeing him again, but I didn’t have it in me. So instead I simply turned around and headed back into the kitchen. I could hear him following me, shutting the door quietly behind him. I walked back to the sink and picked up my glass, staring numbly out the small window.
“It meant nothing, Clark, I know that doesn’t excuse anything, I know that there’s literally nothing I could say to excuse it, and I didn’t come to try and make excuses for what I did because I know it’s unforgivable…I just…I guess, I’m just going to be an asshole and ask for forgiveness anyway.” My grip tightened on the glass but I didn’t turn around. He let out a shaky breath. “I love you so much, Clark, I do, and I will never, never forgive myself for what I’ve done…”
“Why did you do it?” I asked quietly, still keeping my gaze determinedly out the window. “And don’t lie to me.”
There was a pause as he collected himself. “Katie…she, I’m not me when I’m around her. I’m not the person I want to be. And I was drunk, it was just like slipping back into what we always did…Clark, I don’t…I don’t remember much, I remember telling her about you, telling her how happy I am with you, how much I love you, and how much you mean to me, and she said she wanted to talk, and then she was apologizing for how she treated me in the past. And she was telling me that she cared about me…and the next thing I remember is being in bed with her…and you,” his breath hitched and I heard him let out a small sob, “you coming in.”
“I came to surprise you,” I said, feeling totally numb. “I drove to see you because I felt like shit for jumping down your throat the night before…”
“I know, I felt so bad too and I..” He trailed off, and I could hear him crying earnestly.
I spun around, furious again, to see him looking absolutely destroyed. I had never really seen Brendon lose it before. I had seen him cry maybe three times ever, but never like this. And it made me see red. “No,” I snarled. “You don’t get to cry, Brendon!”
“I know. I know,” he sobbed, furiously wiping his eyes. “I just…I promised you I’d never hurt you, and I’m just as bad as the rest of them…”
“No,” I spat, I was so angry, I was starting to cry as well. “You’re even worse because I actually believed you.”
“Tell me…tell me what I have to do. I want to make it better Clark, I can’t lose you. I can’t, I love you so much, please tell me how I can fix it!”
“I don’t know if you can,” I managed to get out.
He started sobbing even harder. “Let me try…please, just let me try to fix it, let me gain back your trust. I love you, I love you s-so much, I’m so, so, sorry.”
For a brief moment, I actually thought about it. Thought about us sitting and talking, about us trying to salvage this. But that girl wasn’t me anymore. I had sworn, when I left Maryland in pieces that I wouldn’t let myself be treated like that anymore. I was sick of being the victim.
I had taken a risk with Brendon. And he had ruined his one shot.
“You need to go,” I said.
I could see that he wanted to resist, wanted to force me to fix this, but he didn’t have it in him. He didn’t say anything, walking over to me, and wrapping his arms around me. It felt like time stopped for a minute as we clung to each other, Brendon crying into my hair and me into his chest, before I finally gathered my wits and shoved him away. “Stop. Stop it. Go.” I choked out.
He held my face in his hands briefly. “I love you. I love you. I’m not giving up. I’m not.”
I shook my head, wrapping my arms around myself, literally holding myself together and he left.
Brendon may not have given up. But I was pretty sure I had.
|||
I didn’t have it in me to get back in bed, or to move, or to eat, or to cry. Too much effort, and for what? What would it fix? The only thing I could do, was sit on the kitchen floor, in a state of shock. Numb, dead to the world, it was better to be like this, better to not have to feel anything, keep my mind blank and empty…
It didn’t last long, the shock. All too soon, the horror of everything hit me again: Brendon cheated, Brendon and I were broken, dangling by a thread…how the hell had it happened? Why wasn’t I enough? Why wasn’t I good enough? I felt like I had given Brendon everything. Every last shred of what was left of me, and it had been so dumb of me to do so, because now, here I was, on the kitchen floor, with nothing.
I called Ryan. My cell phone was destroyed, but I still had a land line, and I knew his number by heart. I knew all of Panic’s numbers by heart. I didn’t think I wanted to talk about it with anyone, but I needed to. And Ryan was the logical choice: who knew Brendon better than he did? I didn’t remember much of the conversation, I’m sure nothing I really said made much sense. I hadn’t slept since that night, I hadn’t eaten either, I was destroying myself, slowly but surely.
Ryan managed to convince me to go to bed, and talked to me until I fell asleep. He made me feel connected again.
I woke up to my phone ringing and I groggily got up and answered it. “Hello?”
“Clark, did you sleep?” Ryan asked as if we were in the middle of a conversation.
“I think so. What time is it?” I said, my voice was gross and thick.
“Almost noon. Look, I’m on my way to your apartment from the airport. I’ll probably be there in 30 minutes or so? Ok?”
I was horribly confused. “You’re supposed to be in L.A.” I said.
“You need me.” He said simply. “I’ll see you soon, okay?”
“I…alright.” I said. I should have maybe gone and cleaned up, I was still in a tank top and shorts from yesterday, I couldn’t remember the last time I washed my face or brushed my hair, but I didn’t. I sat on my bed and looked at the wall until I heard a key turn in the door.
And, within seconds, my own personal savior was standing in the doorway.
“Ryan,” I breathed, and threw myself into his arms.
He hugged me back for a long moment, and then gently disengaged himself from my arms so he could look at me. He shook his head. “What have you done to yourself?” He said quietly.
I started chewing on my lip, I had been doing it a lot lately, and as a result, my lips were chapped and scabbed over. “I don’t know,” I said finally.
He shook his head, dropping his bag by the door and then opened his arms again. “Come here,” he said softly and I went into his arms willingly. “Have you eaten lately?” He asked in that same soft voice, and for some reason it made me laugh. “What?” He said, laughing a little too.
I shook my head. “It’s just funny that’s the first thing you asked me.”
“You just look a little more malnourished since I last saw you,” he said smiling slightly.
“I haven’t eaten…I can’t eat,” I corrected myself.
“You can and you will,” he said sternly. He put an arm around my shoulder and led me into my kitchen and into a chair, so he could rummage through the fridge. He straightened up and looked at me. “Grilled cheese?”
I shrugged.
“Go shower,” he said. “It’ll make you feel better, and I’ll make us some food.”
I didn’t bother arguing.
An hour later, Ryan and I were sitting on my couch, a pile of food between us, neither of us speaking.
“Brendon came to see you yesterday,” Ryan said, breaking the silence.
I looked up in surprise. “Yeah.”
“He called me, afterwards, you know,” Ryan said as an explanation. “He’s a horrible mess, Clark…”
“And I’m not?” I said furiously.
“Whoa,” Ryan said, raising his eyebrows at me. “I didn’t mean it like that. Don’t jump down my throat.”
“Sorry,” I muttered, picking at my food.
After a slight pause, he asked, “What are you thinking about?”
“I don’t know,” I said dully.
“Can you not forgive him?” He asked, looking at me appraisingly.
“I don’t know, Ryan.”
“Are you going to talk to him again?”
I sighed. “I don’t know, Ryan.”
“Well what do you know?” He asked sounding slightly frustrated.
I hesitated. “I need to get out of here,” I said finally.
“Ok, let’s go for a walk or…”
“No.” I said cutting him off. “I need to get out of here.” I ran a hand through my hair. “I didn’t leave Boston just to have him follow me back here. It’s painful enough. I need to get out. Away from here, away from everything. I can’t stand to be here.” My voice was rising hysterically.
“Ok, ok,” Ryan said, looking alarmed at my outburst, and putting a hand on my shoulder.
I put my plate on the coffee table and put my head in my hands, a throbbing migraine coming on. “I can’t do this. I can’t deal with this.”
Ryan adjusted himself on the couch, rubbing my back gently.
“Did…” I chewed on my lip for a moment, wondering if I should even say what was going through my head right now. “Ryan, did he ever even love me at all? Or was he just trying to get over Katie?”
“Don’t even think like that,” Ryan exclaimed. “Clark, he loves you, not just like, loves you, he’s head over heels, bat shit crazy in love with you. He was never like that with Katie, I swear to god. And he still loves you Clark, he just made a really, really, stupid mistake, because that’s how he and Katie always were. She was the first girl he ever loved, you know? And she tore him up. And he got drunk and she finally said everything he ever wanted to hear from her: that she was sorry, that she loved him…and he fell for it, and fucked up. Majorly.”
“If he loved me, then he wouldn’t have done it,” I said firmly. It was really the only conclusion I could come to. Brendon was just like every other boy who broke my heart, and I just was never going to be enough.
Ryan was shaking his head. “That’s not true Clark, it’s not. I can’t explain his actions, but I know he cares about you. I know he loves you. You two belong together, you bring out the best in each other.”
I couldn’t hear this right now. “I have to get out of here.” I said. “I can’t be in this fucking city, I have to…”
I was cut off by Ryan’s cell phone, and he yanked it out to silence it, and we both glanced at the name on the screen. It was Brendon. Ryan made to ignore the call but I stopped him. “Answer it.”
“Clark…”
“Answer it, I don’t care.” I gave him a stern look.
Ryan sighed and flipped it open. “Hello?”
I couldn’t make out what Brendon was saying, but he sounded panicked and upset, like he was crying.
“Brendon, Brendon! Listen to me!” Ryan exclaimed, trying to cut off Brendon’s rant. “Man, please listen to me…no, I’m with Clark…” Another long messy tirade, he sounded like he was full on sobbing. “You can’t talk to her…because, Bren, she deserves to be left alone for a moment. Leave her alone…I know, I know you do…I know you are…I might stop by later, but Clark needs me, okay?” Now I could clearly hear Brendon asking Ryan to come over and talk.
I grabbed Ryan’s arm to get his attention. “Hang on a sec, Bren,” He said, and covered the phone with his hand. “You okay?”
“Ryan, go see him.” I said quietly.
“I’m here to help you,” he protested.
“I know, and I really appreciate it, but you’re his best friend, and you should be with him. Go.”
Ryan stared at me for a long moment, trying to figure out my agenda, but in the end, he broke down and uncovered the bottom of the phone. “Brendon? Yeah…give me 15 minutes, okay? Yeah, I’ll be there soon, bye.” After he hung up, I felt his eyes back on me, but I ignored him, picking at my lip until he grabbed my hand away, forcing me to look at him. “What?” I said irritably, standing up and yanking my hand away.
“Are you going to be here when I get back?” He asked sharply, standing up as well.
Damn he was good.
“Clark!” He said, his voice cracked at me like a whip.
“Ryan, what do you want from me?”
“Anything but that!” He yelled, throwing his arms open wide. “Do you really think running away is going to fix anything?”
“I can’t be here!” I yelled back. “I can’t…he’s…he’s ALL I CAN THINK ABOUT. I’m suffocating here, Ryan! Don’t you understand?! Just…” I was crying I was so angry and upset. “I need to get out of here. Just for a while.”
He softened. “Calm down, okay? Look, I’m going to Brendon’s and then I’ll come back here. At least stay here until I get back, okay?”
I agreed, and for the first time ever, I lied to Ryan Ross. Because less than 20 minutes after he’d left, I was on the road.
When I realized I was getting really ill, I had gone to the kitchen, grabbed a box of saltine crackers, a case of water and a trashcan, calling out of work and warning the guys to stay away unless they wanted to get what I had, and retreated to my. And two days later, that’s where I still was, and supplies were running low.
My phone rang, jerking me awake from the doze I had fallen into, and I slowly reached out from my mountain of comforters and brought it up to my ear.
“Hello?” I croaked.
“Hey kid.”
“Brendon!” I said, trying to muster up some energy to sound excited. I hadn’t spoken to him yesterday, because I spent most of the day sleeping, or puking.
“You sound awful,” he said, sounding worried.
“Yeah,” I said. “Probably because I’m dying.”
“Oh you are not.” Brendon said with a scoff. “Don’t be dramatic, Taylor said it was the flu.”
“It’s death.”
“Drama queen.”
“Well, looks like someone just got uninvited to my funeral.”
Brendon laughed. “Damn it!”
“Hang on, I got to puke,” I mumbled, putting down the phone and retching into the trashcan, which I had been doing so much that my ribs and stomach hurt. “Ugh,” I said about three minutes later, picking up the phone again. “Sorry.”
“No, I’m sorry. You sound really sick.”
“I am, and it sucks balls.” I muttered. “I’m going to go brush my teeth. Call me tomorrow?”
“Of course, you get some rest, I’ll call you tomorrow.”
“Ok,” I agreed, getting up and making my way to the bathroom.
“Love you, and feel better, okay?”
“I’ll try, love you too.”
I decided to take a shower instead, and it felt nice, but left me completely wiped out, and I fell into a deep sleep, waking up only once or twice to puke again, until I heard a key scratching into my front door from where I was buried under my covers at around 7 am.
I figured it was Max, Taylor or Brian, coming to check on me, but why so early I had no clue.
“Clark?” The voice was muffled.
“In here,” I groaned, and suddenly the covers were lifted up (I squinted at the bright light flooding in) only to reveal a smiling Brendon. “Brendon?!” I practically shrieked.
“Move over,” he said, kicking off his shoes and scooting in next to me.
“But…but…” I said, still looking at him in amazement.
“We didn’t really have anything planned the next couple of days.” He said snuggling into me. “God, you’re freezing!” He exclaimed, rubbing my hands between his, and wrapping his long legs around mine.
“You’re going to get sick,” I protested.
He shrugged. “I drank a carton of orange juice and I got my flu shot this year. Hopefully I’ll be okay.” He said, smoothing my hair back and kissing my forehead. “Besides, I was worried about you.”
“Aww,” I said, snuggling into him. “Sick Clark is the non-fun version though.”
He laughed. “I’m not here for fun, I’m here to take care of you.”
We spent the rest of the week in my bed, just the two of us. And it was perfect.
|||
I found no comfort in being back in my apartment.
Everything there had a memory of Brendon attached. I had retreated to my bedroom, having thrown off all the sheets, because I thought I could smell him on them, and instead curled up on a bare mattress, staring at the wall.
I got sick of my phone buzzing. Calls from him, calls from Ryan, calls from Max, Taylor, Brian, Spencer, Jon, hell, even a phone call from Zack, the security guard. And then it was the text messages. Constant buzzing, constant reminders and chirps. I dropped the phone out the window. It was still ringing as Brendon tried to call again when it hit the concrete.
Max, Brian and Taylor all stopped by, tried to make me eat, tried to talk some sense into me, but eventually left when I begged them to. I wanted to be alone. No one understood what it was like to keep seeing his hands on her body.
A broken heart couldn’t be fixed. Didn’t they understand that? My heart…no, I was shattered. And I wanted to be left alone.
On my third day of self imprisonment, I had gotten up to get a glass of water, when there was a knock on the door. I knew instantly it was Brendon. Old habits die hard, and even as we both were falling apart, he still remembered he always knocked once, followed by three quick ones.
I stood frozen, the faucet still on, my glass overflowing into the sink. The knock came again, more insistent this time, and I wondered briefly why he wasn’t using the key I had given him, making his surprise visits even more of a surprise. It hurt to even think about that, that he wouldn’t use the key, because it was just showing how quickly the distance had grown between us.
I took a shaky breath, dropping the glass in the sink, and turning off the water, steeling myself for what was sure to come and then walked the short steps to the door and flung it open.
He looked awful, no, he looked beyond awful. He looked ill and half mad, his hair was everywhere, he obviously hadn’t slept, or shaved, his clothes were wrinkled, his nose was bruised blue and purple from where I hit him, but worst of all were his eyes: usually bright and happy, but now they were dull, and puffy and red-lined as if he’d been crying.
“Clark,” He said, his voice was destroyed, all hoarse and thick sounding. He cleared his throat and tried again. “Clark.” He reached his hands out to me, looking helpless, and all at once, my anger flared up again. How dare he come here looking like this? How dare he make me feel bad for him, like I was the one who’d done all this, like I was the one who destroyed myself like I was a goddamn masochist or something. How dare he show up on my doorstep, how dare he invade my personal grief, over HIM. He was the one in her bed, his lips and hands on her body, letting her touch him, letting them get carried away…I wanted to murder him, I wanted to rip him from limb to limb so maybe he could feel an ounce of the pain he had inflicted on me.
“Why are you here?” I spat furiously, my hands balling up in fists, and he visibly flinched at my voice. Good.
“Clark,” he said again. “I…please…”
“Please what, Brendon? Don’t you dare come asking for favors from me!” I snarled.
He was quiet for a long moment, his head bowed, slightly, and when he looked up, his eyes were filled with tears that he tried furiously to bat away. “I know that. I know, Clark, I just had to see you. I…can I please come in?”
I considered telling him no, slamming the door in his face, never seeing him again, but I didn’t have it in me. So instead I simply turned around and headed back into the kitchen. I could hear him following me, shutting the door quietly behind him. I walked back to the sink and picked up my glass, staring numbly out the small window.
“It meant nothing, Clark, I know that doesn’t excuse anything, I know that there’s literally nothing I could say to excuse it, and I didn’t come to try and make excuses for what I did because I know it’s unforgivable…I just…I guess, I’m just going to be an asshole and ask for forgiveness anyway.” My grip tightened on the glass but I didn’t turn around. He let out a shaky breath. “I love you so much, Clark, I do, and I will never, never forgive myself for what I’ve done…”
“Why did you do it?” I asked quietly, still keeping my gaze determinedly out the window. “And don’t lie to me.”
There was a pause as he collected himself. “Katie…she, I’m not me when I’m around her. I’m not the person I want to be. And I was drunk, it was just like slipping back into what we always did…Clark, I don’t…I don’t remember much, I remember telling her about you, telling her how happy I am with you, how much I love you, and how much you mean to me, and she said she wanted to talk, and then she was apologizing for how she treated me in the past. And she was telling me that she cared about me…and the next thing I remember is being in bed with her…and you,” his breath hitched and I heard him let out a small sob, “you coming in.”
“I came to surprise you,” I said, feeling totally numb. “I drove to see you because I felt like shit for jumping down your throat the night before…”
“I know, I felt so bad too and I..” He trailed off, and I could hear him crying earnestly.
I spun around, furious again, to see him looking absolutely destroyed. I had never really seen Brendon lose it before. I had seen him cry maybe three times ever, but never like this. And it made me see red. “No,” I snarled. “You don’t get to cry, Brendon!”
“I know. I know,” he sobbed, furiously wiping his eyes. “I just…I promised you I’d never hurt you, and I’m just as bad as the rest of them…”
“No,” I spat, I was so angry, I was starting to cry as well. “You’re even worse because I actually believed you.”
“Tell me…tell me what I have to do. I want to make it better Clark, I can’t lose you. I can’t, I love you so much, please tell me how I can fix it!”
“I don’t know if you can,” I managed to get out.
He started sobbing even harder. “Let me try…please, just let me try to fix it, let me gain back your trust. I love you, I love you s-so much, I’m so, so, sorry.”
For a brief moment, I actually thought about it. Thought about us sitting and talking, about us trying to salvage this. But that girl wasn’t me anymore. I had sworn, when I left Maryland in pieces that I wouldn’t let myself be treated like that anymore. I was sick of being the victim.
I had taken a risk with Brendon. And he had ruined his one shot.
“You need to go,” I said.
I could see that he wanted to resist, wanted to force me to fix this, but he didn’t have it in him. He didn’t say anything, walking over to me, and wrapping his arms around me. It felt like time stopped for a minute as we clung to each other, Brendon crying into my hair and me into his chest, before I finally gathered my wits and shoved him away. “Stop. Stop it. Go.” I choked out.
He held my face in his hands briefly. “I love you. I love you. I’m not giving up. I’m not.”
I shook my head, wrapping my arms around myself, literally holding myself together and he left.
Brendon may not have given up. But I was pretty sure I had.
|||
I didn’t have it in me to get back in bed, or to move, or to eat, or to cry. Too much effort, and for what? What would it fix? The only thing I could do, was sit on the kitchen floor, in a state of shock. Numb, dead to the world, it was better to be like this, better to not have to feel anything, keep my mind blank and empty…
It didn’t last long, the shock. All too soon, the horror of everything hit me again: Brendon cheated, Brendon and I were broken, dangling by a thread…how the hell had it happened? Why wasn’t I enough? Why wasn’t I good enough? I felt like I had given Brendon everything. Every last shred of what was left of me, and it had been so dumb of me to do so, because now, here I was, on the kitchen floor, with nothing.
I called Ryan. My cell phone was destroyed, but I still had a land line, and I knew his number by heart. I knew all of Panic’s numbers by heart. I didn’t think I wanted to talk about it with anyone, but I needed to. And Ryan was the logical choice: who knew Brendon better than he did? I didn’t remember much of the conversation, I’m sure nothing I really said made much sense. I hadn’t slept since that night, I hadn’t eaten either, I was destroying myself, slowly but surely.
Ryan managed to convince me to go to bed, and talked to me until I fell asleep. He made me feel connected again.
I woke up to my phone ringing and I groggily got up and answered it. “Hello?”
“Clark, did you sleep?” Ryan asked as if we were in the middle of a conversation.
“I think so. What time is it?” I said, my voice was gross and thick.
“Almost noon. Look, I’m on my way to your apartment from the airport. I’ll probably be there in 30 minutes or so? Ok?”
I was horribly confused. “You’re supposed to be in L.A.” I said.
“You need me.” He said simply. “I’ll see you soon, okay?”
“I…alright.” I said. I should have maybe gone and cleaned up, I was still in a tank top and shorts from yesterday, I couldn’t remember the last time I washed my face or brushed my hair, but I didn’t. I sat on my bed and looked at the wall until I heard a key turn in the door.
And, within seconds, my own personal savior was standing in the doorway.
“Ryan,” I breathed, and threw myself into his arms.
He hugged me back for a long moment, and then gently disengaged himself from my arms so he could look at me. He shook his head. “What have you done to yourself?” He said quietly.
I started chewing on my lip, I had been doing it a lot lately, and as a result, my lips were chapped and scabbed over. “I don’t know,” I said finally.
He shook his head, dropping his bag by the door and then opened his arms again. “Come here,” he said softly and I went into his arms willingly. “Have you eaten lately?” He asked in that same soft voice, and for some reason it made me laugh. “What?” He said, laughing a little too.
I shook my head. “It’s just funny that’s the first thing you asked me.”
“You just look a little more malnourished since I last saw you,” he said smiling slightly.
“I haven’t eaten…I can’t eat,” I corrected myself.
“You can and you will,” he said sternly. He put an arm around my shoulder and led me into my kitchen and into a chair, so he could rummage through the fridge. He straightened up and looked at me. “Grilled cheese?”
I shrugged.
“Go shower,” he said. “It’ll make you feel better, and I’ll make us some food.”
I didn’t bother arguing.
An hour later, Ryan and I were sitting on my couch, a pile of food between us, neither of us speaking.
“Brendon came to see you yesterday,” Ryan said, breaking the silence.
I looked up in surprise. “Yeah.”
“He called me, afterwards, you know,” Ryan said as an explanation. “He’s a horrible mess, Clark…”
“And I’m not?” I said furiously.
“Whoa,” Ryan said, raising his eyebrows at me. “I didn’t mean it like that. Don’t jump down my throat.”
“Sorry,” I muttered, picking at my food.
After a slight pause, he asked, “What are you thinking about?”
“I don’t know,” I said dully.
“Can you not forgive him?” He asked, looking at me appraisingly.
“I don’t know, Ryan.”
“Are you going to talk to him again?”
I sighed. “I don’t know, Ryan.”
“Well what do you know?” He asked sounding slightly frustrated.
I hesitated. “I need to get out of here,” I said finally.
“Ok, let’s go for a walk or…”
“No.” I said cutting him off. “I need to get out of here.” I ran a hand through my hair. “I didn’t leave Boston just to have him follow me back here. It’s painful enough. I need to get out. Away from here, away from everything. I can’t stand to be here.” My voice was rising hysterically.
“Ok, ok,” Ryan said, looking alarmed at my outburst, and putting a hand on my shoulder.
I put my plate on the coffee table and put my head in my hands, a throbbing migraine coming on. “I can’t do this. I can’t deal with this.”
Ryan adjusted himself on the couch, rubbing my back gently.
“Did…” I chewed on my lip for a moment, wondering if I should even say what was going through my head right now. “Ryan, did he ever even love me at all? Or was he just trying to get over Katie?”
“Don’t even think like that,” Ryan exclaimed. “Clark, he loves you, not just like, loves you, he’s head over heels, bat shit crazy in love with you. He was never like that with Katie, I swear to god. And he still loves you Clark, he just made a really, really, stupid mistake, because that’s how he and Katie always were. She was the first girl he ever loved, you know? And she tore him up. And he got drunk and she finally said everything he ever wanted to hear from her: that she was sorry, that she loved him…and he fell for it, and fucked up. Majorly.”
“If he loved me, then he wouldn’t have done it,” I said firmly. It was really the only conclusion I could come to. Brendon was just like every other boy who broke my heart, and I just was never going to be enough.
Ryan was shaking his head. “That’s not true Clark, it’s not. I can’t explain his actions, but I know he cares about you. I know he loves you. You two belong together, you bring out the best in each other.”
I couldn’t hear this right now. “I have to get out of here.” I said. “I can’t be in this fucking city, I have to…”
I was cut off by Ryan’s cell phone, and he yanked it out to silence it, and we both glanced at the name on the screen. It was Brendon. Ryan made to ignore the call but I stopped him. “Answer it.”
“Clark…”
“Answer it, I don’t care.” I gave him a stern look.
Ryan sighed and flipped it open. “Hello?”
I couldn’t make out what Brendon was saying, but he sounded panicked and upset, like he was crying.
“Brendon, Brendon! Listen to me!” Ryan exclaimed, trying to cut off Brendon’s rant. “Man, please listen to me…no, I’m with Clark…” Another long messy tirade, he sounded like he was full on sobbing. “You can’t talk to her…because, Bren, she deserves to be left alone for a moment. Leave her alone…I know, I know you do…I know you are…I might stop by later, but Clark needs me, okay?” Now I could clearly hear Brendon asking Ryan to come over and talk.
I grabbed Ryan’s arm to get his attention. “Hang on a sec, Bren,” He said, and covered the phone with his hand. “You okay?”
“Ryan, go see him.” I said quietly.
“I’m here to help you,” he protested.
“I know, and I really appreciate it, but you’re his best friend, and you should be with him. Go.”
Ryan stared at me for a long moment, trying to figure out my agenda, but in the end, he broke down and uncovered the bottom of the phone. “Brendon? Yeah…give me 15 minutes, okay? Yeah, I’ll be there soon, bye.” After he hung up, I felt his eyes back on me, but I ignored him, picking at my lip until he grabbed my hand away, forcing me to look at him. “What?” I said irritably, standing up and yanking my hand away.
“Are you going to be here when I get back?” He asked sharply, standing up as well.
Damn he was good.
“Clark!” He said, his voice cracked at me like a whip.
“Ryan, what do you want from me?”
“Anything but that!” He yelled, throwing his arms open wide. “Do you really think running away is going to fix anything?”
“I can’t be here!” I yelled back. “I can’t…he’s…he’s ALL I CAN THINK ABOUT. I’m suffocating here, Ryan! Don’t you understand?! Just…” I was crying I was so angry and upset. “I need to get out of here. Just for a while.”
He softened. “Calm down, okay? Look, I’m going to Brendon’s and then I’ll come back here. At least stay here until I get back, okay?”
I agreed, and for the first time ever, I lied to Ryan Ross. Because less than 20 minutes after he’d left, I was on the road.
♠ ♠ ♠
So that was rather...serious.To make you laugh, my lovely Reggie made me this ~awesome~ banner a while ago and i Figure now is the time to use it. Because it's the funniest thing I ever seen
Three more chapter and an epilogue left! I can't believe it. It should be finished by next week because I have the rest written now :)
Comments? Questions? Concerns?
xoxox Gossip Goat