Lights

Ryan chose not to bring up what had occurred that morning throughout the day, but the whole time, questions were gnawing insistently at his stomach and lungs, trying to climb up his wind pipe to be asked. As soon as he thought he had quelled the newest question plaguing his mind, a dozen more sprang to attention, begging to be answered. He wanted to know what was going on – why Brendon was supposedly a bad person, why he chose to act now, what had he been running from? Why was it that none of Ryan's questions were answered despite the fact his curiosity was so there, so present?

He was pretty sure Brendon knew what he was thinking, though he didn't mention it. Brendon had caught him quite a few times as Ryan had stared at him with his eyebrows sloping downwards and his brow furrowed, contemplating all the possibilities. Brendon had just scowled for a moment and returned to whatever he had been doing.

Whenever Ryan went to sleep, he lay awake, thinking. Thinking and worrying. He couldn't help but be paranoid that, even as he was dozing off in bed, Brendon was sneaking away from the house in an effort to correct the actions he considered so wrong. Away from the place he thought he didn't deserve, though Ryan knew that he did. Brendon had had ample opportunity to hurt him. Ryan had practically welcomed him to do so, inviting him to sleep in his apartment and become a part of his entire life. If Brendon was a bad person, it would be obvious. Ryan would be lying dead or wishing he was, and that would be the end of that.

But that wasn't how things were. Brendon was confessing rather than going on some murderous spree. Confessing things Ryan couldn't even believe were true – they just didn't make any sense in his jumbled up mind.

Instead, life went on as normal. Or, at least the new consideration of normal. Before, an average day would have been Ryan waking up to an empty apartment, making himself breakfast and going to work to exchange pleasantries with Spencer, then go home, watch television and go to sleep. Now, Ryan got to wake up and enjoy hot chocolate and toast with Brendon on the couch. He actually got to talk and hold conversations like he suspected others did a lot more regularly than him.

He was slowly sinking into life – they both sunk back into life. Brendon spent his two free days before he had to start work talking to Ryan excitedly, bopping from foot to foot, with an immovable smile permanently etched onto his features. His child-like stance always made Ryan grin in return as he continued with whatever he was doing, whether it be constructing an edible breakfast or folding the washing on his lap.

Ryan had a key made for Brendon so that he could get back into the apartment after his shifts ended, as he wasn't working quite as long hours as Ryan at this stage. Brendon had grasped the silver key with his mouth open, as if he hadn't seen one in years. He tied it to a piece of string that he kept on him always.

It was just life. A new life.

*

Ryan was suddenly pulled from the wonders of deep slumber by a ragged, gasping yell, followed by a loud groan. His eyes snapped open and he pushed himself up so that he was sitting, tugging the covers to his chest fearfully. He stared into the night, then as noise entered his ears again, he experienced a sudden feeling of deja vu that rocked his stomach uncomfortably.

“Oh shit,” he mumbled under his breath as he hurriedly clambered out of his bed and ran into the living room.

The night air was freezing, and was nipping relentlessly at his uncovered legs and arms. He rubbed at his upper arms with both hands as he walked over to the couch where Brendon was writhing, his head thrown back and his whole face contorted into something so horrific that Ryan almost drew back in fear.

“Brendon,” he whispered hoarsely, but the younger man just let an aggravated moan escape from his lips as his cheek twitched.

“Brendon,” Ryan said again, louder this time. “Come on, wake up.”

He reached forward and grabbed Brendon's shoulder, rocking him quickly. “Wake up,” he sighed, unable to look at the unpleasant look on Brendon's face much longer. It was just... tortured, and it made Ryan's heart wrench painfully whenever he saw it.

Finally, Brendon's eyes opened wide as he tried to drink in the entire living room – the entire prospect of life without the nightmare that was clawing at his mind and trying to break free of his head. He whimpered quietly, a sound that Ryan suspected wasn't supposed to be made, then started breathing deep, uneven breaths. Ryan could just make out small beads of sweat glistening on Brendon's forehead, starting to roll down his skin, soon to collect in his collar.

Brendon choked on his breath, his entire body rocking forward as he squeezed his eyes shut, and he let out a sob. Tears ran down his cheeks even with his closed eyes, and Ryan couldn't do anything but look on with an expression of terror on his face. He'd never seen his friend look so broken, and he had never expected to.

“Oh, God, Bren,” he murmured, finally finding some sort of words to match the situation. “God.”

Brendon just turned his face away, trying to smother his sobs and failing.

“God – it's okay, Bren.” Ryan stood up and moved to the other end of the couch, where he pushed Brendon's feet out of the way so he could sit down. He pulled the blanket over his lap and turned to Brendon, still looking worried. “Are you all right?” He realised it was such a stupid question, only after asking it.

“I-I...” Brendon just trailed off and buried his face into his pillow as even more cries broke through his lips. “Fuck!” The word almost blended in, but Ryan noticed it.

“It's okay,” Ryan repeated. “It was just a nightmare, it's not real.”

He noticed Brendon's fingers tighten their grip on the pillow.

“It's okay now,” Ryan went on. “Nothing's going to get you. Nothing can get past me, eh? I have shopping muscles.”

A ripple of laughter threaded its way through the tears, but quickly faded.

“I'll look after you, yeah?”

Brendon turned his head slightly to look at Ryan with the hint of a smile on his distraught face. He slowly pushed himself up, pulling the blanket around his shoulders with him, and leaned his forehead on Ryan's shoulder. Ryan could feel hot tears through the sleeves.

“Come on, Bren,” Ryan mumbled, nervously wrapping his arms around the younger boy's waist. Brendon's arms instantly sprang around Ryan's neck in return as he continued to sob, his entire body convulsing along with it.

“Nightmares suck.”

Brendon just nodded in agreement against Ryan's shoulder.

“But that's okay, because they only last a night, right? They go away in the morning.” Ryan had no idea what he was talking about, but he felt he needed to say something – anything – to comfort Brendon. He felt these random words would help in some way.

“Maybe you ate cheese before you went to sleep,” Ryan suggested. “I hear you're not supposed to do that, though I'm not sure why. I'm not sure how an innocent dairy product would give you nightmares. Fuckin' scientists, yeah?”

“Yeah,” Brendon choked out.

“So, no more cheese for you.”

Brendon sniffed and sobbed again, then nodded. He was trying to hold them back, but it was like trying to hold back a flood.

“It must have been one scary nightmare.”

“Yeah,” Brendon mumbled.

“Maybe I should invest in a dream catcher for you,” Ryan said with a grin.

“M-maybe.” Brendon's voice broke.

Ryan started rubbing big circles on Brendon's back – it was what his mother used to do for him whenever he woke up from a bad dream. He'd always eventually fall asleep again, knowing that he was in safe hands.

“Can't have some nightmare being mean to my Brendon. So we'll catch it with a net and lock it away where it'll never get out. Does that sound like a plan to you?”

“A good plan,” Brendon confirmed.

“And all its nightmare buddies will be so intimidated by our net-catching skills that they'll run away and never, ever bother us again.”

Brendon rubbed at his nose. “I have no idea what you're talking about.”

“Neither do I,” Ryan said, “but it still sounds like a plan to me.” He looked down at his bare feet for a moment, then said, “So, are you okay?”

“Yeah. Yeah, I am. Sorry.”

“Don't be sorry, it's not your fault.”

Ryan shifted in his seat slightly, wondering if he should go back to bed. He started to push himself up, but he suddenly felt Brendon wind his fingers into the material of his over-sized, grey shirt that he slept in. He glanced at Brendon, whose eyes were still shined over. Whose cheeks were still stained and red. Whose hair was a total mess, standing up on end and out in every direction.

“Please don't go yet,” Brendon asked in a small voice. “I-I'm...”

“Don't worry,” Ryan interrupted. “I'm not gonna go, I'll stay out here all night if you want.”

“I don't want you to lose sleep.”

“Sleep isn't that important,” Ryan said with a shrug. “Besides, I think I've gotten enough of it to last me tonight. So, seriously, don't worry. I'll keep you company.”

“Thank you,” Brendon responded after a few moments, unsure of his words.

“No problem. Now, how would you feel about some late night television?”

A soft smile appeared on Brendon's face. “I would feel pretty okay about that.”

“Unless...”

“Unless?”

“You want to talk about it?” Ryan asked, tilting his head to the side. “Something bothering you?”

Brendon hurriedly shook his head. “Nothing's wrong, Ry. It was just a nightmare, that's it.”

“You're a curious person, Brendon,” Ryan commented. “Especially if you expect me to believe that, ever.”

Brendon didn't reply, but just stared back at Ryan. The two of them locked eyes for a few minutes, before Ryan broke the contact and glanced down, knowing that Brendon was still looking at him with a hard look on his face, opposing his belief that something was wrong. Something was going wrong. Something was up in Brendon's head.

“Okay,” Ryan relented. He scrambled around for the remote – the lights were still off, and it was difficult to see – then turned on the television. It took a few moments for the picture to snap on screen, and Ryan flicked through a few channels with infomercials trying to sell them things neither of them needed. He eventually settled on Friends re-runs that were on.

Brendon unhooked his arms from around Ryan as he realised they were still there, but didn't move away. He was still leaning against Ryan's chest, his eyes focused steadily on the screen as the pictures flickered. Shadows danced around the room as Joey spoke and Rachel did a heroic cheer.

They watched for hours. When the Friends re-run ended, they went onto Gilmore Girls, purely because there was nothing else on. Pointless show blended into the next pointless show as they stared on in silence. Ryan was watching the screen, and laughed tiredly at the jokes every once in a while. Sometimes Brendon would laugh as well, but a lot of the time, he just stared off into a spot slightly above the television set, his eyes blank.

Eventually, in the small hours of the morning, Ryan felt Brendon grow limp against him. He turned to see Brendon's body starting to drag away from him, and smiled. He pushed Brendon so that he was lying down, as gently as he possibly could, not wanting to wake the boy up. Brendon grunted slightly and stretched out his legs, but didn't wake.

Ryan made sure the blanket was covering Brendon's entire body, all the way up to his ears, before gazing around the dark living room, unsure if he should do anything else. He reached over and turned the TV off, and the room plunged into complete darkness.

He had to feel his way back over to his own room, and he couldn't help but glance back at the couch when he reached the doorway. He couldn't make Brendon out of the gloom, it all just blended together, but at least he was there. At least he hadn't threatened to leave because of another nightmare. He needed to stay – especially like this. When he was just a bad dream away from feeling so alone. Ryan couldn't let him go, he needed to look after him.

Ryan had never needed anything before.

*

Brendon glanced at the floor, ashamed, when Ryan entered the living room the next morning. Ryan tried to brush it off, preparing breakfast as he did every morning, smiling up at Brendon every once in a while in what he hoped was an encouraging way. He lay the food down on the table and carefully sat down at the end of the couch as he usually did. He glanced sideways at Brendon, and noticed his eyes were a little red and swollen, and there were faintly dark blue circles under his eyes.

“Excited?” Ryan asked, unsure if he was allowed to speak or if he should be doing the same as Brendon was.

“What – oh. Right.” Brendon shook his head, as if ridding it of other unwanted thoughts. “Kind of. Yeah. Sorta.”

“Got a range of emotions right there.”

“Only the best.”

Ryan took another bite of his toast, feeling the air steadily grow awkward, and he wondered if he should have perhaps replied rather than continued eating. He coughed, and so did Brendon, and they smiled hesitantly at each other.

“I... I'm sorry,” Brendon said, stumbling on his words, not confident in what he wanted to express. “I seriously didn't mean for that to happen – last night, I mean.”

“I understand,” Ryan responded with a nod.

“And it was pretty pathetic really.”

“It happens to all of us, Bren.”

“It hasn't happened to you,” Brendon pointed out.

“It has, just not when you're around.”

“It's happened to me when you're around,” Brendon grumbled, unhappily.

“So? I haven't been homeless.”

Brendon shook his head, his eyes closed. “That wasn't the point, anyway. The point was that, well... Thanks.” He shrugged his shoulders as this would somehow help the gesture. “Seriously, thanks for everything. For staying up with me and all. You didn't have to do with that.”

“I wanted to,” Ryan said. “You seriously think I could've slept knowing you were out here like that?”

Brendon let an embarrassed smile appear on his face. “Well, I wish I wasn't like that... But I guess it happened, so, you know. That's it. Nothing can be changed, right?”

“Right.”

“So, thanks.”

“So... you're welcome,” Ryan replied.

Brendon grinned and started to eat his breakfast with a little more enthusiasm – a little more like the Brendon Ryan was familiar with. The one he'd spent a constant few weeks with, and still managed to not hate like he always suspected he would with a room mate.

Ryan collected their plates after they were done and put them up by the sink. “Well,” he said, “time for work then. Your first day. How exciting.”

“Exciting enough for me,” Brendon agreed with a nod. “I'm gonna go have a shower.”

A little while later, Brendon was straightening his McDonald's t-shirt proudly by the front door, while Ryan held the cap that Brendon wasn't quite prepared to put on yet.

“Aww,” Ryan cooed. “It's like you're growing up!”

Brendon glared. “You promised you wouldn't do anything like that!”

“I promised no such thing. Now, let's go.” He pushed Brendon out of the apartment by the small of his back.

The pair walked together for a short while, then they met the fork in the road where Brendon would go to McDonald's and Ryan would go to Lights.

“Got your key?” Ryan asked before they parted ways.

Brendon showed him the key with a nod.

“All right then... See you later.”

Ryan turned on his heel with a wave, and started to walk away.