I Was Ripped Apart But Held By Glue
I Was Ripped Apart But Held By Glue [2/10]
TWO
I get in my bed and curl up into a tiny Ryan-ball, tears still tumbling down my cheeks. I no longer know what I should and shouldn’t do. The line between wrong and right has blurred so much that I’m having trouble finding it. I need someone to search it and find it with me. Cutting myself may no longer be the right solution. It might be. Somewhere far away in my head, there’s this weak voice that tells me how wrong it is to hurt myself, but every time when I think about her, my emotional pains scream so loud to be released that I no longer hear that weak voice and I reach out for the razor anyway.
“Ryan,” Brendon whispers again and I can feel him sitting down on the edge of my bed. He lays his warm hand on my shirted shoulder and gives it a small squeeze. Then a long silence follows and the only things to be heard are my occasional sobs and sniffs.
“I’m glad you didn’t do it,” Brendon says, breaking the silence and starts drawing random little patterns on my clothed shoulder with his finger. I know Brendon wants to help me and the logic response to this would be accepting his help, but on the other side, I don’t want to drag him down with me. And for what I did, I don’t deserve his help anyway. “I don’t want to see you hurt,” he adds and lies down next to me. This is the moment that I should push him away, before it’s too late; before he gets sucked into my deep pit of despair. But I can’t. I need him to stay with me and help me through this. I know it’s selfish and not fair at all, but I’m just too weak to push him away. “And I’m going to do everything I can to make you feel better again, okay? I promise,” he says, his face only a few inches away from mine. “But you have to promise me that you will stop with the cutting from now on. I can’t help you if you don’t try to get better. So, do you promise to stop cutting?” he asks, looking at me. Can I stop cutting? I know I want to, but can I really do it? It seems so unreal that I will never do it again.
“I don’t know,” I tell him in pure honestly. I no longer want to lie to Brendon. “I’m not sure if I can do it. I want to but…” I whisper, fresh tears rolling down from the corners of my eyes.
“I’ll help you, don’t worry, you’re no longer alone. So are you going to try? I know you can do this,” Brendon says, softly stroking my wet cheek. I close my eyes, secretly enjoying his soft touch. When I open my eyes again, I look straight into Brendon’s and nod.
“I’ll try,” I reply and let out a long shaky sigh. This is going to be hard. Really hard and I hope that I will make it. But even more, I hope Brendon will make it. I don’t want to kill someone else as well.
“Good.” Brendon smiles, keeping his hand rested on my cheek. “Just… come to me whenever you feel the need to cut yourself, okay?” he says, his dark brown eyes not leaving mine for one single second. I nod again, sniffing away my tears and then I bury my face into the crook of his neck.
“Thanks,” I mumble so softly that I doubt that he has heard me.
“Let’s go to sleep now,” he whispers, rubbing my back with his hand. He places a small kiss against my ear and when he rolls over, creating a space between our bodies, I’m scared that he will let me sleep alone, so I cling to his side. I don’t want him to leave me. I need his warm body lying next to mine, to keep me safe from doing stupid things. “I’m just switching off the light,” he reassures me and switches off the light, before turning back around, his face almost pressed against mine. “Good night,” he whispers and then I feel his plump lips gently pressed against mine. Before I have the time to react, he pulls away again. Fuck that felt good. Too good to be true.
“Good night,” I reply, trying to hug him as close to my body as possible.
***
“Ryan, we need to get out of the bed,” Brendon says, his strong arms still wrapped around my waist. We’ve been up since nine thirty this morning, but none of us has made any effort to move until now. I glance at my sidekick that’s lying on the nightstand to check the hour. Eleven am. “Let’s get dressed and then we can go downstairs for breakfast,” he adds and kisses my cheek, before he lets go of me and steps out of the bed. I wonder why he keeps kissing me, but I’m too scared to ask, afraid of the answer he might give me.
“I’m not hungry,” I tell him, curling up into a little ball and shivering a bit at the sudden lack of warmth.
“You need to eat, Ry,” Brendon says, sighing and sits down on the edge of the bed, just like he did yesterday. “Just a little bit, please?” he asks, stroking my hair. I nod in response, because, really, what else can I do? I’m sure that he will carry me down and force-feed me something if I refuse to eat; that’s how Brendon is.
“Good, I’m going to use the bathroom now, I’ll be right back,” he informs me and stands up again, first walking over to his suitcase, retrieving whatever he needs and then he goes into the bathroom, closing the door behind his back.
I look around the room and for some reason, I start to feel so immensely tiny. The room is so big and white and I’m just a tiny little black spot in it. I didn’t have that feeling when Brendon was here. Is it wrong that I miss him if he’s only just out of sight? I know he’s in the bathroom and that he will be back in a couple of minutes, but still I can’t help but feeling like I miss him. Kind of like a baby who misses its mother when she goes away for a few seconds. And just like a baby, I start crying. It’s stupid, but I can’t stop the tears; they’re just there and flowing down my cheeks.
Already, I have the feeling of cutting myself; replace the tears with blood, but I know I can’t do it. And thank God that Brendon is using the bathroom right now, otherwise I would have just ran in there and cut myself. Instead, I start to breathe heavily, until I feel as if a strong hand is strangling me and I can no longer breathe. It feels like his hands around my throat. My lungs feel like they’re on fire and I do my best to get the tiniest bit of oxygen in my lungs, but nothing seems to work. I manage to gasp a few times, my entire body trembling and I got the feeling I’m going to die soon if that invisible hand doesn’t let go of me soon.
“Brendon,” I shout, my voice hoarse and I pray to God that he has heard me, because I don’t think I can shout again. I squeeze my eyes tightly shut, still trying my best to breath.
“Ryan,” I hear Brendon’s voice call and it sounds like it’s coming from far away. “Ryan, calm down, come on,” he says and then I feel his hand taking mine. He presses my hand to his chest and I can feel it rise and fall as he takes even, steady breaths.
“Breathe with me,” he whispers, stroking my damp hair with his free hand. “Ssshht, calm down, everything is going to be fine,” he soothes, keeping my hand steady on his chest. Somehow, that manages to calm me down and soon, I am breathing at the same rate as he is, but then with occasional little gasps and hiccups. My entire body hurts and I feel as if I’m sitting in a sauna, sweat dripping off my face “It’s over,” Brendon mutters, not moving one inch. “It was just a panic attack, you’re fine,” he reassures me, still stroking my hair in a calming way. It takes another ten minutes until I’m fully calmed down and breathing has completely steadied.
“Are you okay now?” Brendon questions and I still have my hand pressed against his chest. I can feel his heart beating against the palm of my hand and it feels so good; perfect I’d even say.
“Yeah,” I breathe, nodding and enjoying the tump-tump-tumping of Brendon’s heart. “I’m sorry.”
Brendon chuckles and shakes his head. “Don’t be so silly. You don’t have to be sorry for anything, okay?” he asks, laying his hand on top of mine. I nod again and close my eyes, taking a deep breath. He’s touching me again and again; it feels so goddamn good that it must be wrong. It feels too good to be destined for me. So I better enjoy this as long as I can, before Brendon realises that he’s making a terrible mistake with me.
“Thanks,” I mutter, my eyes still closed.
“No problem,” Brendon says, running his finger over the knuckles of my hand. I open my eyes and look straight into his darker ones, feeling a bunch of sparkles running up and down my spine. He’s got such nice eyes and the way they look at me makes me want to kiss Brendon so badly, but I know I can’t.
“You should get dressed now,” Brendon whispers softly, keeping his voice as if he doesn’t want to break the comfortable silence we were in. I sigh and stand up, stretching my long limbs before taking my clothes and walking to the bathroom. I leave the bathroom door opened, so I can see Brendon. I don’t care if he can see my ass or whatever. All that matters is that I can see him; so I know he’s still there and hasn’t left me. Plus, if the door is opened, I won’t get temped to cut myself either. I only close the door for a short minute to take a piss, because I don’t want to put Brendon through having to see and listen me piss, that’s just gross.
When I open the door again, Brendon is sitting on the bed, playing with something shiny in his hand. My razorblade. Shit.
“W-what are you d-doing?” I stutter, my eyes wide and I’m sure that I have gone even paler than I already was before.
“Here,” he says, holding out the razor. I look down at it, blinking a few times. “Take it and throw it away,” he adds, making a little gesture for me to take it. “Throw it away, so you can’t do it again. You don’t have other ones, do you?” he asks, cocking an eyebrow. I shake my head.
“No, that’s the only one I have,” I mutter, my eyes glued to the shiny little object. “You throw it away,” I tell him, biting my lower lip. I don’t want to touch it again; it’s full of lies and surreal dreams of life being good.
“You have to do it, Ryan,” he states, still holding out the razor. I tear my eyes away from it and look at Brendon’s face instead.
“Why?” I ask, my voice slightly trembling. I don’t understand him. He can throw it away, it’ll be gone anyway.
“Because that way you will face the fact that the cutting is over,” he answers, locking eyes with me. “Trust me, it’ll be better this way,” he adds. “Take it and throw it away.”
I take a small step forward, nervously looking at Brendon. Then I slowly stretch my arm and reach out for the razor. I open my hand and he drops the razor in it. What am I supposed to do now? Just throw it into the bin? I look at the window and for a few seconds, I just want to throw it out of the window, but then I think about the fact that someone might hurt himself on it, so I walk over to the small white bin in the bathroom instead. I push the little pedal down with my foot, making the lid lift itself and throw the razor into it.
Brendon wraps his arms around me as I walk back out of the bathroom.
“I’m proud of you,” he says and pecks my lips. Fuck, this whole kissing thing is really starting to confuse me. Not that I’m complaining, it feels beyond good. And the fact that he is proud of me only intensifies that good feeling. “Now we should really go downstairs, before they stop serving breakfast,” he states and takes my hand in his, half dragging me out of the room, because yeah, I still don’t feel hungry and the idea of eating doesn’t really appeal me.
***
“Come on, Ry, just one slice of bread,” Brendon says, nearly shoving the slice in my face. “Or do you rather have cornflakes? I can get them for you, if you want.”
I shake my head in response and groan. I really appreciate him being so nice and all and I know I need him to be here with me, but… I just don’t feel like eating. “Ryan, you need to eat. We got sound check in less than an hour. You can’t do that on an empty stomach,” he states and I guess he’s right. I feel physically weak as well and maybe eating will help.
“Just one,” I tell Brendon. “And I want strawberry jam on it,” I add, smiling a little bit and looking at the slice of bread. Brendon rolls his eyes, but smiles. He lays the slice down on the plate in front of him and smears a thick layer of strawberry jam over it.
“Open up your mouth, princess,” he says when he’s done. He cuts a small piece off the slice of bread and leads it to my mouth. It’s moments like these that are worth living for.
“I can eat myself, you know,” I state matter-of-factly but open my mouth for him anyway. He puts the piece of bread in my mouth and I give him a small, but genuine smile.
“You should do that more,” Brendon tells me.
“Do what?” I ask in confusion. What did I do?
“Smile like that,” he answers, leading another piece of bread to my mouth. My cheeks heat up and I have no idea of what I should do or say right now. It’s a good thing that Brendon feeds me another piece of bread, so I have an excuse to stay silent. “You’re cute when you blush,” he says, a soft giggle escaping from his lips. Is he flirting with me? And if he is; why with me? My face feels like it’s burning up and I quickly take a sip of my cool water, trying to hide my red face.
“We should go, otherwise we’ll be late for sound check,” I mutter after a short silence and stand up. I don’t know how to react to this whole kissing and flirting thing. A big part of me wants to respond to it, because, yeah, I really like him as well, but there’s another part of me that stops me from doing that, because I don’t want Brendon to do this out of pity or so. I need to be sure that he means this before I get involved with him.
Brendon looks up at me, his eyes a bit confused, but then he nods and stands up as well. We still got ten minutes to get the things we need from our room and then we have to meet up with Spencer and Jon. I’m absolutely not looking forward to that. Don’t get me wrong, I love Spencer and Jon, they’re my best friends, but I just don’t know what I should tell them. I feel like a lot has changed for me since last night and the normal reaction to this would be talking to them, but I don’t think I am ready for that. I don’t even know if I will ever be able to tell them what I have been doing to myself the past few weeks. Or what I did to her.
I get in my bed and curl up into a tiny Ryan-ball, tears still tumbling down my cheeks. I no longer know what I should and shouldn’t do. The line between wrong and right has blurred so much that I’m having trouble finding it. I need someone to search it and find it with me. Cutting myself may no longer be the right solution. It might be. Somewhere far away in my head, there’s this weak voice that tells me how wrong it is to hurt myself, but every time when I think about her, my emotional pains scream so loud to be released that I no longer hear that weak voice and I reach out for the razor anyway.
“Ryan,” Brendon whispers again and I can feel him sitting down on the edge of my bed. He lays his warm hand on my shirted shoulder and gives it a small squeeze. Then a long silence follows and the only things to be heard are my occasional sobs and sniffs.
“I’m glad you didn’t do it,” Brendon says, breaking the silence and starts drawing random little patterns on my clothed shoulder with his finger. I know Brendon wants to help me and the logic response to this would be accepting his help, but on the other side, I don’t want to drag him down with me. And for what I did, I don’t deserve his help anyway. “I don’t want to see you hurt,” he adds and lies down next to me. This is the moment that I should push him away, before it’s too late; before he gets sucked into my deep pit of despair. But I can’t. I need him to stay with me and help me through this. I know it’s selfish and not fair at all, but I’m just too weak to push him away. “And I’m going to do everything I can to make you feel better again, okay? I promise,” he says, his face only a few inches away from mine. “But you have to promise me that you will stop with the cutting from now on. I can’t help you if you don’t try to get better. So, do you promise to stop cutting?” he asks, looking at me. Can I stop cutting? I know I want to, but can I really do it? It seems so unreal that I will never do it again.
“I don’t know,” I tell him in pure honestly. I no longer want to lie to Brendon. “I’m not sure if I can do it. I want to but…” I whisper, fresh tears rolling down from the corners of my eyes.
“I’ll help you, don’t worry, you’re no longer alone. So are you going to try? I know you can do this,” Brendon says, softly stroking my wet cheek. I close my eyes, secretly enjoying his soft touch. When I open my eyes again, I look straight into Brendon’s and nod.
“I’ll try,” I reply and let out a long shaky sigh. This is going to be hard. Really hard and I hope that I will make it. But even more, I hope Brendon will make it. I don’t want to kill someone else as well.
“Good.” Brendon smiles, keeping his hand rested on my cheek. “Just… come to me whenever you feel the need to cut yourself, okay?” he says, his dark brown eyes not leaving mine for one single second. I nod again, sniffing away my tears and then I bury my face into the crook of his neck.
“Thanks,” I mumble so softly that I doubt that he has heard me.
“Let’s go to sleep now,” he whispers, rubbing my back with his hand. He places a small kiss against my ear and when he rolls over, creating a space between our bodies, I’m scared that he will let me sleep alone, so I cling to his side. I don’t want him to leave me. I need his warm body lying next to mine, to keep me safe from doing stupid things. “I’m just switching off the light,” he reassures me and switches off the light, before turning back around, his face almost pressed against mine. “Good night,” he whispers and then I feel his plump lips gently pressed against mine. Before I have the time to react, he pulls away again. Fuck that felt good. Too good to be true.
“Good night,” I reply, trying to hug him as close to my body as possible.
***
“Ryan, we need to get out of the bed,” Brendon says, his strong arms still wrapped around my waist. We’ve been up since nine thirty this morning, but none of us has made any effort to move until now. I glance at my sidekick that’s lying on the nightstand to check the hour. Eleven am. “Let’s get dressed and then we can go downstairs for breakfast,” he adds and kisses my cheek, before he lets go of me and steps out of the bed. I wonder why he keeps kissing me, but I’m too scared to ask, afraid of the answer he might give me.
“I’m not hungry,” I tell him, curling up into a little ball and shivering a bit at the sudden lack of warmth.
“You need to eat, Ry,” Brendon says, sighing and sits down on the edge of the bed, just like he did yesterday. “Just a little bit, please?” he asks, stroking my hair. I nod in response, because, really, what else can I do? I’m sure that he will carry me down and force-feed me something if I refuse to eat; that’s how Brendon is.
“Good, I’m going to use the bathroom now, I’ll be right back,” he informs me and stands up again, first walking over to his suitcase, retrieving whatever he needs and then he goes into the bathroom, closing the door behind his back.
I look around the room and for some reason, I start to feel so immensely tiny. The room is so big and white and I’m just a tiny little black spot in it. I didn’t have that feeling when Brendon was here. Is it wrong that I miss him if he’s only just out of sight? I know he’s in the bathroom and that he will be back in a couple of minutes, but still I can’t help but feeling like I miss him. Kind of like a baby who misses its mother when she goes away for a few seconds. And just like a baby, I start crying. It’s stupid, but I can’t stop the tears; they’re just there and flowing down my cheeks.
Already, I have the feeling of cutting myself; replace the tears with blood, but I know I can’t do it. And thank God that Brendon is using the bathroom right now, otherwise I would have just ran in there and cut myself. Instead, I start to breathe heavily, until I feel as if a strong hand is strangling me and I can no longer breathe. It feels like his hands around my throat. My lungs feel like they’re on fire and I do my best to get the tiniest bit of oxygen in my lungs, but nothing seems to work. I manage to gasp a few times, my entire body trembling and I got the feeling I’m going to die soon if that invisible hand doesn’t let go of me soon.
“Brendon,” I shout, my voice hoarse and I pray to God that he has heard me, because I don’t think I can shout again. I squeeze my eyes tightly shut, still trying my best to breath.
“Ryan,” I hear Brendon’s voice call and it sounds like it’s coming from far away. “Ryan, calm down, come on,” he says and then I feel his hand taking mine. He presses my hand to his chest and I can feel it rise and fall as he takes even, steady breaths.
“Breathe with me,” he whispers, stroking my damp hair with his free hand. “Ssshht, calm down, everything is going to be fine,” he soothes, keeping my hand steady on his chest. Somehow, that manages to calm me down and soon, I am breathing at the same rate as he is, but then with occasional little gasps and hiccups. My entire body hurts and I feel as if I’m sitting in a sauna, sweat dripping off my face “It’s over,” Brendon mutters, not moving one inch. “It was just a panic attack, you’re fine,” he reassures me, still stroking my hair in a calming way. It takes another ten minutes until I’m fully calmed down and breathing has completely steadied.
“Are you okay now?” Brendon questions and I still have my hand pressed against his chest. I can feel his heart beating against the palm of my hand and it feels so good; perfect I’d even say.
“Yeah,” I breathe, nodding and enjoying the tump-tump-tumping of Brendon’s heart. “I’m sorry.”
Brendon chuckles and shakes his head. “Don’t be so silly. You don’t have to be sorry for anything, okay?” he asks, laying his hand on top of mine. I nod again and close my eyes, taking a deep breath. He’s touching me again and again; it feels so goddamn good that it must be wrong. It feels too good to be destined for me. So I better enjoy this as long as I can, before Brendon realises that he’s making a terrible mistake with me.
“Thanks,” I mutter, my eyes still closed.
“No problem,” Brendon says, running his finger over the knuckles of my hand. I open my eyes and look straight into his darker ones, feeling a bunch of sparkles running up and down my spine. He’s got such nice eyes and the way they look at me makes me want to kiss Brendon so badly, but I know I can’t.
“You should get dressed now,” Brendon whispers softly, keeping his voice as if he doesn’t want to break the comfortable silence we were in. I sigh and stand up, stretching my long limbs before taking my clothes and walking to the bathroom. I leave the bathroom door opened, so I can see Brendon. I don’t care if he can see my ass or whatever. All that matters is that I can see him; so I know he’s still there and hasn’t left me. Plus, if the door is opened, I won’t get temped to cut myself either. I only close the door for a short minute to take a piss, because I don’t want to put Brendon through having to see and listen me piss, that’s just gross.
When I open the door again, Brendon is sitting on the bed, playing with something shiny in his hand. My razorblade. Shit.
“W-what are you d-doing?” I stutter, my eyes wide and I’m sure that I have gone even paler than I already was before.
“Here,” he says, holding out the razor. I look down at it, blinking a few times. “Take it and throw it away,” he adds, making a little gesture for me to take it. “Throw it away, so you can’t do it again. You don’t have other ones, do you?” he asks, cocking an eyebrow. I shake my head.
“No, that’s the only one I have,” I mutter, my eyes glued to the shiny little object. “You throw it away,” I tell him, biting my lower lip. I don’t want to touch it again; it’s full of lies and surreal dreams of life being good.
“You have to do it, Ryan,” he states, still holding out the razor. I tear my eyes away from it and look at Brendon’s face instead.
“Why?” I ask, my voice slightly trembling. I don’t understand him. He can throw it away, it’ll be gone anyway.
“Because that way you will face the fact that the cutting is over,” he answers, locking eyes with me. “Trust me, it’ll be better this way,” he adds. “Take it and throw it away.”
I take a small step forward, nervously looking at Brendon. Then I slowly stretch my arm and reach out for the razor. I open my hand and he drops the razor in it. What am I supposed to do now? Just throw it into the bin? I look at the window and for a few seconds, I just want to throw it out of the window, but then I think about the fact that someone might hurt himself on it, so I walk over to the small white bin in the bathroom instead. I push the little pedal down with my foot, making the lid lift itself and throw the razor into it.
Brendon wraps his arms around me as I walk back out of the bathroom.
“I’m proud of you,” he says and pecks my lips. Fuck, this whole kissing thing is really starting to confuse me. Not that I’m complaining, it feels beyond good. And the fact that he is proud of me only intensifies that good feeling. “Now we should really go downstairs, before they stop serving breakfast,” he states and takes my hand in his, half dragging me out of the room, because yeah, I still don’t feel hungry and the idea of eating doesn’t really appeal me.
***
“Come on, Ry, just one slice of bread,” Brendon says, nearly shoving the slice in my face. “Or do you rather have cornflakes? I can get them for you, if you want.”
I shake my head in response and groan. I really appreciate him being so nice and all and I know I need him to be here with me, but… I just don’t feel like eating. “Ryan, you need to eat. We got sound check in less than an hour. You can’t do that on an empty stomach,” he states and I guess he’s right. I feel physically weak as well and maybe eating will help.
“Just one,” I tell Brendon. “And I want strawberry jam on it,” I add, smiling a little bit and looking at the slice of bread. Brendon rolls his eyes, but smiles. He lays the slice down on the plate in front of him and smears a thick layer of strawberry jam over it.
“Open up your mouth, princess,” he says when he’s done. He cuts a small piece off the slice of bread and leads it to my mouth. It’s moments like these that are worth living for.
“I can eat myself, you know,” I state matter-of-factly but open my mouth for him anyway. He puts the piece of bread in my mouth and I give him a small, but genuine smile.
“You should do that more,” Brendon tells me.
“Do what?” I ask in confusion. What did I do?
“Smile like that,” he answers, leading another piece of bread to my mouth. My cheeks heat up and I have no idea of what I should do or say right now. It’s a good thing that Brendon feeds me another piece of bread, so I have an excuse to stay silent. “You’re cute when you blush,” he says, a soft giggle escaping from his lips. Is he flirting with me? And if he is; why with me? My face feels like it’s burning up and I quickly take a sip of my cool water, trying to hide my red face.
“We should go, otherwise we’ll be late for sound check,” I mutter after a short silence and stand up. I don’t know how to react to this whole kissing and flirting thing. A big part of me wants to respond to it, because, yeah, I really like him as well, but there’s another part of me that stops me from doing that, because I don’t want Brendon to do this out of pity or so. I need to be sure that he means this before I get involved with him.
Brendon looks up at me, his eyes a bit confused, but then he nods and stands up as well. We still got ten minutes to get the things we need from our room and then we have to meet up with Spencer and Jon. I’m absolutely not looking forward to that. Don’t get me wrong, I love Spencer and Jon, they’re my best friends, but I just don’t know what I should tell them. I feel like a lot has changed for me since last night and the normal reaction to this would be talking to them, but I don’t think I am ready for that. I don’t even know if I will ever be able to tell them what I have been doing to myself the past few weeks. Or what I did to her.