I Was Ripped Apart But Held By Glue
I Was Ripped Apart But Held By Glue [3/10]
“Brendon?” I ask once we’re back in our hotel room. Brendon turns around and looks at me.
“Yeah?”
“Are you going to tell Spencer and Jon?” I ask, picking at the nail of my index finger. Brendon shrugs his shoulders.
“Do you want me to tell them?” he says, sitting down on one of the two beds. “It’s up to you. If you want me to keep this between you and me, then I will, Ry.”
“Yeah, that would be great,” I reply. “I don’t think I can handle them now,” I tell Brendon and sit down next to him. “Thanks.”
“Hey, no problem, this is what friends are for, to take care of each other through thick and thin.” He smiles, patting my upper leg with his hand.
“No, really. Thanks for everything. You’ve been really great for me yesterday. You could’ve gotten mad at me, but you didn’t… you didn’t make me feel more worthless than I already feel now,” I say, looking down at mine and Brendon’s feet.
“Ryan, you are not worthless,” he immediately responds, laying his hand on my cheek and turning my head so I’m facing him. “You are a very wonderful person, don’t let anyone tell you any different and that anyone includes yourself as well,” he says and kisses my nose. I smile a small smile because his lips feel so fantastic against the tip of my nose, even if it’s only for two seconds.
“Ahh, there’s that cute little smile again!” Brendon states, softly rubbing his thumb against my cheek. He beams, staring me in the eye for about a minute and then he leans forward, connecting his lips with mine. The kiss is soft and caring, but different from the kisses he gave me in the past twenty-four hours. This one feels more sensual and even better than any kiss I have ever experienced. Brendon’s thumb is still caressing my cheek and I just can’t bring myself to pull back from the kiss, because this feels so fantastic. I know I don’t deserve it, but I enjoy as it is given to me. He slowly prods his tongue against my lips, pleading for entrance, which of course, I give him. As my lips part, he sneaks his warm tongue into my mouth and starts exploring every little inch of it. It’s been ages since I have felt this good; this loved.
But all good things must come to an end. When the need for fresh air becomes too big, we have to part, breaking this delicious kiss.
“You can’t do this,” I mutter, slightly backing away from Brendon. I should’ve told him this earlier. “You don’t need me,” I add and stand up from the bed. Brendon sighs and stands up as well. He lays his hand on my shoulder and turns me around.
“Why not?” He asks, cocking an eyebrow at me.
“Because you deserve so much better than the wreck that I am!” I respond, rolling my eyes at his obliviousness. I thought he was smarter than this. “I’m not good enough for someone like you.”
“Ryan.” Brendon sighs, shaking his head. “Come here,” he tells me, pushing me into the little bathroom and switches on the light. “Look in that mirror and tell me what you see,” he says, pointing at the mirror in front of us.
“I see us,” I reply, shrugging my shoulders. This is stupid.
“Yeah, but who do you really see when you look at yourself in the mirror?” he asks, pointing at my reflexion.
“I see a guy who’s miserable and good for almost nothing,” I answer, playing along with his little game and feeling as if I’m trapped into some sort of stupid movie cliché. Now will come the moment where Brendon says: ‘You’re not, I see a great person in you, blahblahblah’.
“Yes, you do look miserable,” Brendon replies and I cock my eyebrow at him in the mirror. That wasn’t the answer I had expected from him. “But you’re only looking miserable because you won’t allow yourself any happiness,” he states and I guess he is right. I don’t let myself be happy. But that’s because I don’t deserve it which brings us back at the beginning of this vicious circle.
Brendon sighs and I can see him roll his eyes in the mirror. He turns me around again and then he presses his lips hard against mine, resting his hand just above my hip. I try to push him away, put he keeps me firmly into his grasp and keeps on kissing me and eventually, I give in and melt into the kiss.
“Do you want this?” Brendon asks as he breaks the kiss. “Don’t think about me, just say if you really want this, want me, or not and don’t try to lie because I can see right through you,” he says, staring me straight into the eye.
“Yes, I want this,” I reply, closing my eyes and letting him hold me. “So badly,” I add and lean my forehead against his, feeling his breathing against my mouth.
“Then let me make you happy again,” he whispers, rubbing my side. “Please? It would make me happy as well,” he says and I keep my eyes closed, just listening to his voice. I have always loved Brendon’s voice and by the sound of it, I can hear that he really means what he is saying. He really wants me. I don’t understand why, but he just does. “Ryan?”
I don’t say a word, but just simply nod and open my eyes, meeting his. His lips curl into a small smile and his eyes start shining brightly. God, he’s so beautiful. Our lips meet again in a soft, sensual kiss. Nothing special, just lips against lips. This kiss may be simple, but it means the world to me.
***
We just did sound check and I’m already exhausted. I hope I can make it through the entire concert tonight. Our fans are one of the other things that keep me going. They really are the best fans in the world and I’m so grateful for them.
“Everything okay?” Brendon asks, laying his hand on my upper arm and giving me a worried look.
“Just a bit tired,” I tell him, my words quickly followed by a yawn.
“You should take a nap. We still have about four hours until we have to go on,” he says, patting my arm. “If you want, I can stay with you,” he adds, smiling softly. I nod in response and together we make our way to our dressing room. I hope we can lock the door for some privacy. The idea of someone rushing into the room while Brendon and I are lying together doesn’t really please me. “I’ll tell Spence and Jon to leave us alone for a while. I’ll be right back,” he says and quickly turns around, rushing over to Jon and Spencer. Brendon tells them something and their gazes fall on me for a few seconds. They nod to whatever it was that Brendon said and then Brendon returns to me. I feel a bit stupid. It’s like I can’t talk to Jon and Spencer myself and Brendon is my messenger boy. What happened to the old Ryan that was good at hiding things? Before yesterday, I was able to talk to Jon and Spencer, but now it sort of scares me. I’m afraid that if I talk to them, they’ll see right through me, just like Brendon does.
Brendon and I walk into the dressing room that has our band’s name on the door. I can’t help but feel guilty to shut Spencer and Jon out of their own dressing room. I’m a horrible band mate.
“Lie down and sleep a bit,” Brendon says, pointing at the little sofa in the centre of the room. I nod and lay down on it, staring up at the ceiling.
“Will you lay with me?” I ask, turning my head to Brendon, who is locking the door. Once Brendon has locked the door, he turns around and looks at me, nodding.
“Sure, but… how? There’s only room for one person on that sofa,” he states matter-of-factly, awkwardly standing next to the sofa and looking down at me. I don’t answer his question but just wrap my fingers around his wrist and pull him down. Brendon grins and settles himself on top of me. His feet are dangling over the edge of the sofa, but he doesn’t seem to care. He rests his head on my chest, letting out a long contented sigh. I wrap both my arms around his body and press him closer to mine. I really love this closeness, it calms me down. It’s just what I need.
“Sleep,” Brendon murmurs and lifts his head off my chest, looking me in the eye. “I set the alarm of my sidekick, so don’t worry about sleeping too long,” he tells me. I nod my head and close my eyes, taking a deep breath, breathing in Brendon’s unique scent that is mixed with the scent of his aftershave. A few seconds after I have closed my eyes, I feel a pair of warm lips softly pressed against my left eyelid and then against the right one. I can’t believe myself when I think this, but right now, I feel genuinely good. This feeling and my exhaustion is all what it takes to send me into dreamland in only a few minutes.
***
When I wake up again, I have the feeling that there’s something missing. And I really am, because Brendon is no longer lying on top of me. I sit up and look around in the room, spotting Brendon in front of the mirror, putting on his make-up for tonight’s show.
“How long did I sleep?” I ask, rubbing my eyes. Brendon turns around and looks at me smiling.
“About three hours,” he answers, stepping closer to where I am. He bends down and places a small kiss in my messy hair. “You could still sleep for about half an hour or so, if you want,” he adds and sits down on his knees, resting his chin on the back of the sofa. I shake my head in response. I don’t feel tired anymore and I think I will be able to get through the show tonight without fainting from exhaustion.
“I’m fine,” I tell Brendon, resting my hand on top of his. “I better start putting on my stage clothes and make-up,” I say and get off the sofa. I stretch my limbs and then shake them a bit, trying to get rid of the stiffness. A sofa isn’t the most ideal place to sleep. I make my way over to where I left my bag which has all of my stuff in it, but before I reach out to take it, I turn around and walk over to Brendon. Without saying a word, I peck his lips and turn around again, smiling to myself. I’m cheerful. That is… odd which is the least I could say about it. I guess that Brendon genuinely caring for me has that effect on me.
There’s a soft knock at the door and Brendon strolls over to it to unlock it. Too bad, I would’ve enjoyed a little bit more alone-time with Brendon. When I’m with him, I just feel so relaxed. Other people make me fell less at ease, no matter how good I know them.
Spencer walks into the dressing room, his face red and his eyes dark. Oh God, I didn’t do anything wrong, did I? Why would he be mad at me? Spencer is quickly followed by Jon, a look of annoyance but also playfulness spread all over his face.
“Ryan, please tell Jon that I am not going to shave! I like my beard-ish thing, it’s very manly,” he nearly shouts. What the fuck?
“Erm, Jon is standing right behind you, tell him yourself,” I answer, cocking an eyebrow.
“Someone please give this guy a razor so he can shave himself!” Jon speaks up, pointing at Spencer. “Or give me one so I can slit his wrists for not shaving!” he quickly adds, glaring at Spencer. Then he looks at me and winks. Oh so, this is what it’s all about? They’re just making fun out of my misery. How could I be so stupid to think that Brendon really liked someone like me? I’m sure he told Spencer and Jon everything that had happened yesterday and this is just a cruel way of them to have a good laugh. I’m such a fool.
I take a quick look at Brendon, tears already standing in my eyes.
“Fuck you, Brendon,” I hiss and spit into his face, before running out of the room.
I need to get rid of this aching pain in my heart. Now. I run into one of the bathroom stalls and walk straight to the mirror that hangs above the tiny sink. With one hard punch, I smash it into dozens of tiny pieces. I have a few deep cuts in my hand, but it’s not enough. I need more pain; more of that beautiful ruby-red coloured blood dripping from my arm. I pick up a sharp piece of the shattered mirror and lock myself into one of the tiny toilet cubicles with it. With teary eyes, I look down at the fragment of the mirror and then I sit down on the toilet seat. The piece of mirror has already a few droplets of my blood on it. Soon it will be covered with my blood.
I roll up the sleeve of my sweater and then I rip off the bandage that Brendon put around it last night. With one quick movement of my right hand, I make a deep cut next to the one I made yesterday evening. God that feels good. And then, I start laughing. It’s a loud, maniacal laugh that I’m sure of people outside can hear. I laugh at myself and at what I have become. I mean, look at me! I’m a twenty-one-year-old guy, hiding in a toilet stall, cutting himself to escape the real world with real, emotional pains. Funny isn’t it? I bet Brendon and the guys are laughing their asses off right now. Brendon really had me there for a couple of hours. He had me believing that he actually liked me. How fucking hilarious is that?
Through my laughter, I hear someone calling my name. I stop laughing and then I hear the voice again, along with some footsteps, nearing the toilet stall where I am hidden. It’s Brendon. He’s probably here to tell me I should get ready for the show we’re going to play in less than an hour.
“Ryan, please unlock that door,” Brendon calls, knocking hard on the door of the cubicle. Then I think he sees the broken mirror and some of my blood, because there’s a loud gasp coming from the other side of the door. “Ryan!” he shouts, his fists banging on the door. “Ryan, please don’t hurt yourself again,” he says, desperateness clearly audible in his voice. Does he really think I’d let him fool me again. God, he really must think I’m retarded. “Ryan, please don’t do this. Jon really didn’t know a goddamn thing about this, he was just mocking around with Spencer. You know how they are. He had no idea of what was going on,” he tells me and then he goes quiet for a few seconds. I nearly jump up when I see a pair of chocolate-brown eyes staring at me. Damn, why do public toilet stalls always have a space between the floor and the door?
“Yeah?”
“Are you going to tell Spencer and Jon?” I ask, picking at the nail of my index finger. Brendon shrugs his shoulders.
“Do you want me to tell them?” he says, sitting down on one of the two beds. “It’s up to you. If you want me to keep this between you and me, then I will, Ry.”
“Yeah, that would be great,” I reply. “I don’t think I can handle them now,” I tell Brendon and sit down next to him. “Thanks.”
“Hey, no problem, this is what friends are for, to take care of each other through thick and thin.” He smiles, patting my upper leg with his hand.
“No, really. Thanks for everything. You’ve been really great for me yesterday. You could’ve gotten mad at me, but you didn’t… you didn’t make me feel more worthless than I already feel now,” I say, looking down at mine and Brendon’s feet.
“Ryan, you are not worthless,” he immediately responds, laying his hand on my cheek and turning my head so I’m facing him. “You are a very wonderful person, don’t let anyone tell you any different and that anyone includes yourself as well,” he says and kisses my nose. I smile a small smile because his lips feel so fantastic against the tip of my nose, even if it’s only for two seconds.
“Ahh, there’s that cute little smile again!” Brendon states, softly rubbing his thumb against my cheek. He beams, staring me in the eye for about a minute and then he leans forward, connecting his lips with mine. The kiss is soft and caring, but different from the kisses he gave me in the past twenty-four hours. This one feels more sensual and even better than any kiss I have ever experienced. Brendon’s thumb is still caressing my cheek and I just can’t bring myself to pull back from the kiss, because this feels so fantastic. I know I don’t deserve it, but I enjoy as it is given to me. He slowly prods his tongue against my lips, pleading for entrance, which of course, I give him. As my lips part, he sneaks his warm tongue into my mouth and starts exploring every little inch of it. It’s been ages since I have felt this good; this loved.
But all good things must come to an end. When the need for fresh air becomes too big, we have to part, breaking this delicious kiss.
“You can’t do this,” I mutter, slightly backing away from Brendon. I should’ve told him this earlier. “You don’t need me,” I add and stand up from the bed. Brendon sighs and stands up as well. He lays his hand on my shoulder and turns me around.
“Why not?” He asks, cocking an eyebrow at me.
“Because you deserve so much better than the wreck that I am!” I respond, rolling my eyes at his obliviousness. I thought he was smarter than this. “I’m not good enough for someone like you.”
“Ryan.” Brendon sighs, shaking his head. “Come here,” he tells me, pushing me into the little bathroom and switches on the light. “Look in that mirror and tell me what you see,” he says, pointing at the mirror in front of us.
“I see us,” I reply, shrugging my shoulders. This is stupid.
“Yeah, but who do you really see when you look at yourself in the mirror?” he asks, pointing at my reflexion.
“I see a guy who’s miserable and good for almost nothing,” I answer, playing along with his little game and feeling as if I’m trapped into some sort of stupid movie cliché. Now will come the moment where Brendon says: ‘You’re not, I see a great person in you, blahblahblah’.
“Yes, you do look miserable,” Brendon replies and I cock my eyebrow at him in the mirror. That wasn’t the answer I had expected from him. “But you’re only looking miserable because you won’t allow yourself any happiness,” he states and I guess he is right. I don’t let myself be happy. But that’s because I don’t deserve it which brings us back at the beginning of this vicious circle.
Brendon sighs and I can see him roll his eyes in the mirror. He turns me around again and then he presses his lips hard against mine, resting his hand just above my hip. I try to push him away, put he keeps me firmly into his grasp and keeps on kissing me and eventually, I give in and melt into the kiss.
“Do you want this?” Brendon asks as he breaks the kiss. “Don’t think about me, just say if you really want this, want me, or not and don’t try to lie because I can see right through you,” he says, staring me straight into the eye.
“Yes, I want this,” I reply, closing my eyes and letting him hold me. “So badly,” I add and lean my forehead against his, feeling his breathing against my mouth.
“Then let me make you happy again,” he whispers, rubbing my side. “Please? It would make me happy as well,” he says and I keep my eyes closed, just listening to his voice. I have always loved Brendon’s voice and by the sound of it, I can hear that he really means what he is saying. He really wants me. I don’t understand why, but he just does. “Ryan?”
I don’t say a word, but just simply nod and open my eyes, meeting his. His lips curl into a small smile and his eyes start shining brightly. God, he’s so beautiful. Our lips meet again in a soft, sensual kiss. Nothing special, just lips against lips. This kiss may be simple, but it means the world to me.
***
We just did sound check and I’m already exhausted. I hope I can make it through the entire concert tonight. Our fans are one of the other things that keep me going. They really are the best fans in the world and I’m so grateful for them.
“Everything okay?” Brendon asks, laying his hand on my upper arm and giving me a worried look.
“Just a bit tired,” I tell him, my words quickly followed by a yawn.
“You should take a nap. We still have about four hours until we have to go on,” he says, patting my arm. “If you want, I can stay with you,” he adds, smiling softly. I nod in response and together we make our way to our dressing room. I hope we can lock the door for some privacy. The idea of someone rushing into the room while Brendon and I are lying together doesn’t really please me. “I’ll tell Spence and Jon to leave us alone for a while. I’ll be right back,” he says and quickly turns around, rushing over to Jon and Spencer. Brendon tells them something and their gazes fall on me for a few seconds. They nod to whatever it was that Brendon said and then Brendon returns to me. I feel a bit stupid. It’s like I can’t talk to Jon and Spencer myself and Brendon is my messenger boy. What happened to the old Ryan that was good at hiding things? Before yesterday, I was able to talk to Jon and Spencer, but now it sort of scares me. I’m afraid that if I talk to them, they’ll see right through me, just like Brendon does.
Brendon and I walk into the dressing room that has our band’s name on the door. I can’t help but feel guilty to shut Spencer and Jon out of their own dressing room. I’m a horrible band mate.
“Lie down and sleep a bit,” Brendon says, pointing at the little sofa in the centre of the room. I nod and lay down on it, staring up at the ceiling.
“Will you lay with me?” I ask, turning my head to Brendon, who is locking the door. Once Brendon has locked the door, he turns around and looks at me, nodding.
“Sure, but… how? There’s only room for one person on that sofa,” he states matter-of-factly, awkwardly standing next to the sofa and looking down at me. I don’t answer his question but just wrap my fingers around his wrist and pull him down. Brendon grins and settles himself on top of me. His feet are dangling over the edge of the sofa, but he doesn’t seem to care. He rests his head on my chest, letting out a long contented sigh. I wrap both my arms around his body and press him closer to mine. I really love this closeness, it calms me down. It’s just what I need.
“Sleep,” Brendon murmurs and lifts his head off my chest, looking me in the eye. “I set the alarm of my sidekick, so don’t worry about sleeping too long,” he tells me. I nod my head and close my eyes, taking a deep breath, breathing in Brendon’s unique scent that is mixed with the scent of his aftershave. A few seconds after I have closed my eyes, I feel a pair of warm lips softly pressed against my left eyelid and then against the right one. I can’t believe myself when I think this, but right now, I feel genuinely good. This feeling and my exhaustion is all what it takes to send me into dreamland in only a few minutes.
***
When I wake up again, I have the feeling that there’s something missing. And I really am, because Brendon is no longer lying on top of me. I sit up and look around in the room, spotting Brendon in front of the mirror, putting on his make-up for tonight’s show.
“How long did I sleep?” I ask, rubbing my eyes. Brendon turns around and looks at me smiling.
“About three hours,” he answers, stepping closer to where I am. He bends down and places a small kiss in my messy hair. “You could still sleep for about half an hour or so, if you want,” he adds and sits down on his knees, resting his chin on the back of the sofa. I shake my head in response. I don’t feel tired anymore and I think I will be able to get through the show tonight without fainting from exhaustion.
“I’m fine,” I tell Brendon, resting my hand on top of his. “I better start putting on my stage clothes and make-up,” I say and get off the sofa. I stretch my limbs and then shake them a bit, trying to get rid of the stiffness. A sofa isn’t the most ideal place to sleep. I make my way over to where I left my bag which has all of my stuff in it, but before I reach out to take it, I turn around and walk over to Brendon. Without saying a word, I peck his lips and turn around again, smiling to myself. I’m cheerful. That is… odd which is the least I could say about it. I guess that Brendon genuinely caring for me has that effect on me.
There’s a soft knock at the door and Brendon strolls over to it to unlock it. Too bad, I would’ve enjoyed a little bit more alone-time with Brendon. When I’m with him, I just feel so relaxed. Other people make me fell less at ease, no matter how good I know them.
Spencer walks into the dressing room, his face red and his eyes dark. Oh God, I didn’t do anything wrong, did I? Why would he be mad at me? Spencer is quickly followed by Jon, a look of annoyance but also playfulness spread all over his face.
“Ryan, please tell Jon that I am not going to shave! I like my beard-ish thing, it’s very manly,” he nearly shouts. What the fuck?
“Erm, Jon is standing right behind you, tell him yourself,” I answer, cocking an eyebrow.
“Someone please give this guy a razor so he can shave himself!” Jon speaks up, pointing at Spencer. “Or give me one so I can slit his wrists for not shaving!” he quickly adds, glaring at Spencer. Then he looks at me and winks. Oh so, this is what it’s all about? They’re just making fun out of my misery. How could I be so stupid to think that Brendon really liked someone like me? I’m sure he told Spencer and Jon everything that had happened yesterday and this is just a cruel way of them to have a good laugh. I’m such a fool.
I take a quick look at Brendon, tears already standing in my eyes.
“Fuck you, Brendon,” I hiss and spit into his face, before running out of the room.
I need to get rid of this aching pain in my heart. Now. I run into one of the bathroom stalls and walk straight to the mirror that hangs above the tiny sink. With one hard punch, I smash it into dozens of tiny pieces. I have a few deep cuts in my hand, but it’s not enough. I need more pain; more of that beautiful ruby-red coloured blood dripping from my arm. I pick up a sharp piece of the shattered mirror and lock myself into one of the tiny toilet cubicles with it. With teary eyes, I look down at the fragment of the mirror and then I sit down on the toilet seat. The piece of mirror has already a few droplets of my blood on it. Soon it will be covered with my blood.
I roll up the sleeve of my sweater and then I rip off the bandage that Brendon put around it last night. With one quick movement of my right hand, I make a deep cut next to the one I made yesterday evening. God that feels good. And then, I start laughing. It’s a loud, maniacal laugh that I’m sure of people outside can hear. I laugh at myself and at what I have become. I mean, look at me! I’m a twenty-one-year-old guy, hiding in a toilet stall, cutting himself to escape the real world with real, emotional pains. Funny isn’t it? I bet Brendon and the guys are laughing their asses off right now. Brendon really had me there for a couple of hours. He had me believing that he actually liked me. How fucking hilarious is that?
Through my laughter, I hear someone calling my name. I stop laughing and then I hear the voice again, along with some footsteps, nearing the toilet stall where I am hidden. It’s Brendon. He’s probably here to tell me I should get ready for the show we’re going to play in less than an hour.
“Ryan, please unlock that door,” Brendon calls, knocking hard on the door of the cubicle. Then I think he sees the broken mirror and some of my blood, because there’s a loud gasp coming from the other side of the door. “Ryan!” he shouts, his fists banging on the door. “Ryan, please don’t hurt yourself again,” he says, desperateness clearly audible in his voice. Does he really think I’d let him fool me again. God, he really must think I’m retarded. “Ryan, please don’t do this. Jon really didn’t know a goddamn thing about this, he was just mocking around with Spencer. You know how they are. He had no idea of what was going on,” he tells me and then he goes quiet for a few seconds. I nearly jump up when I see a pair of chocolate-brown eyes staring at me. Damn, why do public toilet stalls always have a space between the floor and the door?