I Was Ripped Apart But Held By Glue

EIGHT

“We’re cancelling the tour,” Brendon tells me, sitting down on the edge of the hotel bed, after the doctor had left. He examined me and then he gave me a prescription for a medicine that would help me get better. I nearly broke down again in front of him when he kept on asking me whether he needed to take a look at the wound that is covered underneath the slightly dirty bandage around my hand and part of my arm. I convinced him it was just a flesh wound, but I don’t think he believed me.

“No, Brendon, please don’t do that,” I beg, tears already standing in my eyes. Apart from Brendon, music is all I have left to make me feel good about myself. I need it to forget about her.

“Too late, it’s already being arranged. We’re leaving for Vegas tomorrow afternoon,” he replies, tucking a strand of hair behind my ear. “Spencer thought it would be better too,” he adds and I sigh. Fuck.

“Did you tell him something?” I ask, hoping that the answer will be no. Spencer can’t know. Brendon shakes his head.

“I promised you that I wouldn’t, unless you wanted it yourself and I won’t break that promise,” he answers, stroking my warm cheek with his colder fingers. “The main thing is that you get better now. Don’t think about the touring. We can always come back later and play for those kids. I know they will be bummed out because we cancelled the shows, but I don’t think they would like to see you being sick either, they’ll understand.”

“I’m sorry,” I mutter and close my eyes, trying to stop my tears from falling. “This is all my fault, I’m sorry.”

“You don’t have to be sorry about a thing,” Brendon whispers and gets into the bed with me. I’m wearing nothing but my boxers now and I can feel his hands resting on my bare stomach as he puts his arms around me. He presses his nose against the back of my neck and takes a deep breath. “I love you,” he says, tightening the grip he has on my body. I don’t reply, but just let myself fall asleep again, hoping that I will find a place as perfect as Brendon in my dreams.

I’m locked up in a narrow, dark space that has the revolting smell of urine lingering around in the air; probably because I got so scared that I peed my pants. My dad threw me into this space, or closet, whatever you like to call it, hours ago. He said he needed to talk to my mother and that he didn’t need a worthless little brat hanging around if he did so. ‘Talking’ that’s what he meant with beating the crap out of her and raping her. But according to the police, it’s not rape because he and mom are married. Sick, but true. Silent tears are still running down my cheeks as I hear my mother’s screams, cutting through my heart as a sharp knife would. I bang on the doors and yell for someone, anyone, to get me out of here, but deep inside I know that there will be no one to rescue me, there never is. But I need to help my mother. She doesn’t deserve this. I have been so stupid to let my dad shove me into this closet. I should have stood up against him, fought him. But I was too scared. Scared that I would end up in the hospital again. But that’s not an excuse. I should have stood up to him and prove that I am not worthless. The screams stop and I try to stay as silent as possible. If my dad hears me, he will come to me and beat me up as well. A while later, the closet door opens, a beam of bright light falling on my face. My mom is looking at me, blood trickling down her nose and he left eye already colouring a soft shade of purple. But then she gets pushed away by my dad. He smacks her down on the floor and then he turns to me, a sly grin plastered all over his face.

“Did you really think you’d get away with it?” he asks, bending down and grabbing me by the collar.

I wake up, panting and my heart beating so fast in my chest that it hurts. The entire room is dark, except for a small, bluish light at the foot of the bed.

“Are you okay?” Brendon asks, the blue light moving. I prop myself up on my elbows and look at the light. It’s Brendon’s sidekick.

“I had a bad dream,” I answer, wiping my sweaty face on the bedcover. “But I’m okay now,” I add, letting myself sink back into the soft pillow. The pillow is damp from my sweat and tears, but I don’t care.

“Want to talk about it?” he questions, crawling into the bed. It’s then that I notice a warm, wet feeling in my boxers. I pissed myself. I push Brendon away from me because I don’t want him to lie in my piss. “Ryan, what’s wrong?” he asks, trying to come closer to me, but I push him away again, keeping him away from the little wet pool in the bed. I’m twenty-one years old and still piss my pants in my sleep, how pathetic is that? “Ryan.” Brendon sighs and manages to get close to me anyway. He’s much stronger than I am, so trying to push him away doesn’t help a lot. He presses his body against mine and after a few seconds, it stiffens. “Did you pee the bed?” he wonders out loud, his voice soft and not accusing or disgusted. I slowly nod, almost dying from embarrassment.

“It’s because of the dream I had,” I whisper, fresh tears already tumbling down my cheeks. “I-I couldn’t help it. I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay, such things can happen,” Brendon assures me, not moving one inch. His pants must be wet from my urine by now and it surprises me that he didn’t jump out of the bed from the moment he knew what I had done. “Let’s get you cleaned, okay,” he adds and kisses my left temple. Then he throws the dirty sheets of the bed, revealing a pungent smell.

The smell of my own urine is all it takes to turn my stomach again. I run to the bathroom as fast as I can, barely making it before my stomach lurches bile up my gullet. I haven’t eaten a thing in the past twenty-four hours so this is all I got to throw up. I’m lucky this time, though because once the disgusting smell has almost left my nose, I stop heaving. Brendon crouches down next to me and hands me a glass with mouthwash in it. I rinse my mouth with it and then spit it out again in the toilet bowl.

“I’ll get you a clean pair of boxers,” Brendon tells me and hurries out of the bathroom, only to come back a few minutes later with a pair of boxers, pants and a shirt. He puts all three items on the toilet lid, after flushing the toilet. For a few seconds, he stands still, as if thinking of what he should do, but then he lays his hands on my hips and waits a few more seconds to see my reaction. When I don’t say anything, he grips the waistband of my boxers and pulls them down.

“You should erm… take a shower,” he mutters, the tips of his ears colouring a dark shade of red. “I could join you… if you want,” he adds, averting his gaze from me.

“Yeah, that would be… nice,” I reply, managing a small smile. This seems to put him at ease, because he smiles too and starts undressing himself.

While Brendon is taking off all his clothes, I walk over to the shower and open the taps, letting the water run so it can get warm. I keep my hand underneath the water to feel its temperature and when I’m satisfied, I step into the rather small shower cabin. There’s just enough room for two people which I am glad for. Not that I am a horny guy who is desperate to shower with his naked boyfriend, but just because I love having Brendon around me. He’s the only one that can calm me down and that doesn’t judge me from the things I do. Before he steps underneath the shower as well, he takes a washing cloth, a bar of soap and a bottle of shampoo and puts them back down on the little rack in the shower cabin.
I lay my arms around his waist and hug him closely as the water cascades down on our bodies.

“Thank you,” I whisper in his ear, leaning my chin on his shoulder. “Thank you for not backing away and being disgusted by everything I do. You have no idea how much I love you,” I tell him.

“Everything for you,” he replies, slightly pulling back from the hug. “And I love you too,” he adds, leaning in to kiss me, but I stop him before he can press his lips against mine.

“Don’t kiss me. I just puked,” I say, shaking my head, resting the palm of my hand against his mouth.

“I don’t care,” he replies, laying his hand on top of mine and pushing it down. Before I can react, he presses his lips against mine for a soft kiss.

***

“Aren’t you glad to be home?” Brendon asks, nuzzling his nose against my cheek. I just shrug my shoulders and look around my living room. There are still big, brown boxes all over the place. I didn’t get a lot of time to take all of my stuff out of the boxes when I moved here. We left on tour about two weeks after I moved everything from my parents’ house and during those two weeks I wasn’t really in the mood for unpacking my stuff. “I can unpack some of your things if you want me to, while you rest,” he says. “I’ll get you a blanket and then you can stay here on the sofa to order me where I have to put everything,” he suggests, smiling widely. How could I say no to such a sweet smile? I just can’t.

“You’re too good for me,” I answer and kiss his cheek.

“No, I’m not. I’m just treating you as you deserve to be treated,” he replies and places his hands on my shoulders, pushing me down on my sofa. “Now lie down and rest, I’ll do everything else.”
I do as I am told and stretch my body out on the sofa.
“I’ll get you a blanket from your bedroom,” Brendon tells me and before he leaves the room, he leans down and kisses my forehead.

Brendon returns a few minutes later, with a bright red blanket in his hands.

“Here you go, my prince.” He smiles and drapes it over my body. This blanket used to be my mom’s. I pull it up to my nose and take a deep breath. The smell of my mom’s perfume is still lingering on it and it brings tears in my eyes when I think of her. I killed her; killed my own mother. “Hey, what’s wrong?” Brendon asks, crouching down next to the sofa. He cups my cheek with his left hand and moves his pinkie to wipe away the single tear that had escaped from the corner of my eye.

“This is my mom’s blanket,” I whisper, stroking the soft fabric with my right hand. I’m the worst son ever for letting her suffer like she did.

“Ooh, Ry,” Brendon whispers. “I’m so sorry, I didn’t know that,” he adds, gently caressing my cheek. “Do you want me to get you another one?”

“No,” I answer, shaking my head. It’s already horrible enough that I killed my mom; I don’t want to bury all the memories that I have of her as well.

“Do you want to talk about her?” he then asks, letting his hand travel from my cheek down to my neck, until he has reached the small of my back. “It’ll make you feel better if you talk about her,” he says, that pitiful look appearing on his face again. I shake my head in response. I don’t want to admit to my boyfriend that I killed my mother; he’ll run away from me as fast as he can, out of fear that I might kill him too. He sighs and with his free hand, he ruffles his hair. “You’ll have to talk soon, though. I arranged a psychiatrist to come over the day after tomorrow. I told her it was an emergency,” he tells me and now I can see nervousness in his eyes as well. I gulp and nod. There’s no way I can escape from that so it’s better if I give up my protests now. And besides, I already promised Brendon I would get through with it.
“Good, now, try to rest and I’ll unpack. Just tell me where you want everything and I’ll be your slave for the afternoon,” Brendon tells me and stands up again.

Brendon opens one of the boxes and takes out a bunch of DVDs.

“Shall I put them over there?” he asks, pointing at an empty space underneath the TV.

“Yeah, that’s fine,” I answer, nodding. He smiles, puts the box with DVDs next to the TV and sits down next to it, taking the DVDs out of the box.

“I’ll sort them as well. Is alphabetical order okay?” he questions, rummaging through the box. “You’ve got quite a lot, so it’ll be easier when you’re looking for one,” he adds, looking at me. A soft laugh escapes my lips and I shake my head in amusement.

“You don’t have to, but if it makes you happy, then go ahead,” I reply and close my eyes for a little while. The medicine the doctor prescribed me has taken good care of my stomach ache, but my head still hurts like a bitch most of the time.

It feels as if I have only closed my eyes for a few seconds, but when I open them again, more than half of the boxes in the room are already unpacked. I sit upright and look around me, trying to find Brendon, but he’s not in this room. I get off the couch, a sudden wave of dizziness striking me and I have to sit back down in order not to fall and hit my head on the little wooden coffee table. When the dizziness is gone, I stand up, a little bit slower this time and go looking for Brendon. I hear some strange sounds coming from the kitchen, so I open the door and enter it, finding Brendon taking plates, glasses and cutlery out of a box. Everything was wrapped in old newspapers so it wouldn’t break, but Brendon has already unwrapped most of it, so now my kitchen floor is covered with a bunch of old newspapers.

“Did you have a good nap?” Brendon asks, putting a few plates into a wall cupboard.

“Yeah,” I reply, hopping onto the kitchen counter.

“I hope you don’t mind I continued unpacking while you were asleep, but you looked so peaceful and I just couldn’t wake you up just to ask you where you wanted me to put your books, CDs, kitchen stuff and erm… teddy bears,” he says, an adorable smile creeping on his face. “You have got some really cute teddy bears, I put all of them in your bedroom,” he adds, resting his hand on my upper leg. My cheeks heat up a little bit as he mentions my teddy bear collection. It sounds really girly, but I can’t help it, there’s something with teddy bears and every time I see one that I really like, I can’t help but buy it. For years, that was one of my big secrets, but I guess I’m discovered now. “Awww, don’t be embarrassed, I think it’s cute that you collect them,” Brendon tells me and quickly pecks my lips. “I would have been more shocked if I had found a carton box filled with dildos.” He grins, leaning his forehead against mine, so that when he speaks, I can feel his breath tickling against my lips. I laugh and playfully hit his shoulder. Nutter.

“You’re crazy,” I mutter, wrapping my arms around his neck.

“You love it,” he replies, little lights of happiness dancing in his eyes and a smirk playing on his lips. If only I could tell him just how much I love him.

“Mmm… I do,” I whisper and lean a bit forward, connecting our lips in a kiss. He immediately parts his lips and I slip my tongue into his mouth, meeting his tongue in a passionate kiss.

Brendon breaks the kiss after a short while, but stays close to me.

“Are you going to stay here with me tonight?” I ask, holding him tightly, I’m afraid that he might leave. “And tomorrow and… well, all the time?” I add, biting my lower lip. I know I’m asking a lot of him, but I need him here so I won’t do anything stupid.

“Haven’t you seen the big backpack I brought with me? I’m not planning on leaving here soon,” he answers and pecks my lips.

“Thanks,” I reply and hug him tightly. “Your love is really keeping me from going completely insane,” I mutter in his ear and I mean every word of it. Without Brendon, I’d be on my way to a mental institution by now.