Aim for the Throat

That was weeks ago. The funeral had passed on a sunny day much like today and school started again. Everything had begun to return to some sort of routine, although it was a new routine without certain people, classes, and newly formed support-groups. Cohen went on with day to day life and was only very heavily plagued with sadness at night, still it showed a bit during the day. Ryan observed everything and tried not to push, while Brendon was aimlessly lost and confused on what to d. So he kept jumping in at the wrong moments.

"Uncle Pete's not coming?" Cohen asked as Brendon and him walked to the soccer field. Brendon shook his head, "And where's Ryan?"

"He'll be here. Don't worry Co, he's finishing up a tutoring session." Brendon patted his son's shoulder and was swiftly shrugged off.

"You know…" He started and paused for a moment pretending to adjust his duffle bag, "Mr. Bradley was his sister's tutor."

"I know." Brendon shot Cohen and apathetic look. Mr. Bradley, the teacher the boy shot had met the boy's mother after tutoring his sister. From there a damaging affair had escalated, "Ryan wouldn't do that though."

"I know." Cohen muttered and regretted bringing it up with his father, for some reason he never had the right responses.

They gave silent goodbyes as Cohen walked to the sidelines to start warming up. Brendon laid out a blanket on the bleachers and waited for Ryan to join him. He barely made it before the start of the game, but Cohen was still oddly relieved and grateful as he saw Ryan sit down next to his dad.

"Hey." The two greeted each other and discreetly kissed each other on the cheek.

A whistle was blown, hand shakes were given, and the game was started. Cohen was put in as a goalie, a placement that was far from his normal position of center. Ryan and Brendon noticed right away.

"He's been sluggish lately." Brendon commented out of the corner of his mouth.

"He's been through a lot." Ryan reminded kindly and pulled his sunglasses onto his face. Brendon squinted whishing he had brought his too.

"He should go to one of those support group."

"He'll do what he needs to do Bren." He sat forward and Brendon gave a jagged sigh. Ryan could feel the pain in the simple gasp of air, "He doesn't hate you by the way."

"I know he doesn't, but why won't he talk to me? I ask him how he is, I try to help him remember the good things, I make sure he's…I'm doing all that I can--"

"Remember when you were that age? If your parents had tried that with you or asked about your where-abouts you would have freaked out."

"They did ask about stuff like that."

"And what'd you do?"

The two watched as the game went down towards their goal, but was quickly beaten away by defenders. The crowd behind them breathed a sigh of relief. Brendon bit his lip and knew Ryan was right, but it was killing him that he couldn't do anything for his son.

"I didn't tell them." He finally answered.

"See?" Ryan nudged him, still keeping an eye on the game.

"What would you do, Ry?"

"I'd be worse then Cohen…"

"You'd start a band?"

"Yeah." They snickered to each other and then it was peaceful again.

"I just don't get it, Ry. If that were me I'd be bursting at the seams to tell someone."

"It's not you." Brendon broke his concentration on the field to shook Ryan a glare, but Ryan gave a wispy chuckle, "And if it was you who'd you be talking to right now? I'm sure it wouldn't be your parents."

"My family…and friends."

"Yeah…sure…Ok, and who else?" Ryan pulled down his sunglasses and brushed some hair out of his eyes.

"You." It stung, yet he understood. One of the main support systems Cohen had was gone, "Ok, I see what you're saying. I just- I just--" Brendon struggled for words other than the things he had just previously said.

"Oh I know, it's hard." He readjusted his sunglasses finally and crossed his arms over his chest.

Brendon and Ryan sat silently enjoying the calm day and each other's company, only cheering when they made a goal. Summerlin won the game and it lifted Cohen's mood noticeably for a while. There was small chat during dinner and then Cohen's mood dropped rapidly. Brendon offered to take care of the kitchen, Ryan, of course, helped, and Cohen went to his room. Around that time of night everybody in the house began to feel the creeping depths of night upon them.

Cohen became stir crazy as he saw the time and was still holding his phone waiting for Sam to call, Brendon was tired, and Ryan was always fidgety. Usually the dynamics around the house were well dealt with and everyone put up with each other's quirks, but lately it wasn't the case.

"That's nice," Brendon yawned as Ryan strummed a tune on his mandolin on the steps of their back deck, "You should write that down." He stood and messed up Ryan's hair before going inside.

"I'll be in in a minute." Ryan smiled and continued the tune.

A few minutes had passed before Cohen went outside to kick a ball around to escape the nothingness of his room. Ryan and Cohen didn't ignore each other, they simply noted each other's presence and were ok with it. Cohen kicked the ball against the house a few times and then stared at the screen door Sam had come in that night they were alone.

"Uh-huh…can I tell you something Ryan? Can you promise not to tell Dad?" He stood with the ball at his feet and Ryan's music stopped leaving only an echo in the night air.

"Yeah sure. Anything."

"Me and Sam…we," Cohen cleared his throat, "We did it."

"Oh?" Ryan refrained from asking any questions, such as about protection, knowing that Cohen probably had much more to say. He also thought back to his teen days when lectures were the furthest thing that he wanted to hear.

"She didn't want me to tell anyone, she said that it was just something between me and her… and I just needed to tell someone." Cohen started quickly and rather embarrassed.

Ryan gave a sad smile that wasn't seen in the dark. Cohen was always more like Brendon then Ryan ever realized, maybe he was bursting. Cohen bitterly kicked the ball at the house again, catching the attention of Brendon inside of the bathroom. Slowly with a tooth brush hanging out of his mouth he slid the window opened and stopped all of his movement to hear them.

"I miss her a lot. A lot…Sometimes I just want to be sad or mad or whatever. I don't think Dad gets that, ya know? It sounds cheesy as hell, but every morning when I wake up I don't know what I'm going to do or how I'm going to get through the day. I told her everything. We got into a fight once. She was right. She said I wasn't treating you guys right. I was so embarrassed of you when we first moved here. I'm sorry."

He was mumbling and stringing his short sentences up quickly. Ryan was a little surprised, Cohen had never showed any signs of it. For a moment Ryan felt as guilty as Brendon was lately for the lack of communication and Brendon was slightly hurt.

"I almost broke up with her for it. I thought she was the one being stupid. She's really smart," Cohen passed into present tense and it struck Ryan as odd, "She's really kind and funny and… there's tons of things that I said to her, but I don't think I ever said anything that ever really mattered. 'Ya know?"

"There's probably tons of things you wanted to do or say, but what you did for her was great. Sometimes it's those useless conversations and actions that matter the most. It's what you remember…" Ryan recalled once more the nights on the tour bus, the days with his friends, and all the things that formed his strongest relationships. The little things and moments were actually the most useful and life altering

"Yeah," Cohen sat down on the steps next to Ryan, "Dad said that, but I guess you're right."

Brendon stood in the bathroom wordlessly triumphant and annoyed that it took Ryan to convince Cohen of it. Ryan sat a moment more waiting for Cohen to continue, but he didn't. Instead he twirled the soccer ball on his finger tips and Ryan went back to strumming the mandolin. Brendon sighed and finished getting ready for bed, then headed outside. He sat down awkwardly on the other side of Ryan and waited.

"As a kid from a shitty childhood I can tell you that it's gonna leave a chip in your shoulder," Ryan said in a sing-song voice as he played.

"What?" Cohen stared at him and Brendon chuckled.

"Either you can go crazy or make money off of it. That's what I did."

Cohen, for the first time in weeks laughed with his gut and shook his head. It lifted Brendon and Ryan's heart to hear such a free and joyful noise from the teenager. The crickets chirped and satellites twinkled, somehow everything was going to be ok. Somehow things would pass.