Take My ***ing Hand

I got home the next morning after staying at Spencer's, hoping to find my dad somewhat rational and... sober. 

I walked in through the front door, and he was no where in sight, so I made my way up to his office. 

I knocked gently, but there was no answer, so I opened it and peeked in, only to find him lying on the floor unconscious. 

I quickly panicked and rushed to his side, trying to shake him awake, in hope he was just sleeping. When he didn't budge I feared the worst, and began shouting "Dad, wake the fuck up!" and such in his ear. Finally his eyes fluttered open slowly, and I sighed in relief. 

He sat up and I went to hug him, but he pushed me away and told me to go get him some aspirin and another beer because "He had a pounding headache" and beer was his answer to everything. 

Brendon’s POV

Ryan didn’t speak to me for the rest of the weekend.

After he left, the tension and anger died down and all that was really left was confusion and curiosity. What wasn’t he telling me?

The following monday, I thought about maybe stopping by his house and offering him a ride to school, but whatever was wrong, he seemed really upset and probably wanted space, so I didn’t.

I thought about maybe asking Victoria or Spencer today. I mean, things just started falling into place, and I’m not ready for things to fall apart yet.

If I can find out what’s wrong, maybe I can find a way to help, or find away to approach him so he doesn’t fight me off or close me out.

I just hope things will be okay, I’ve already grown so attached to him.

~*~

I got to school early enough to catch Spencer outside his locker with no Ryan in sight.

He was putting things in his locker when I approached him; he didn’t notice me at first.

“Hey Spencer.” I greeted. He glanced at me before turning back to his locker.

“Hey Brendon, what’s up?” He responded, showing almost no emotion.

I sighed. “Um, I was wondering… if you know what’s going on with Ryan?” I asked somewhat meekly. I was still under the impression the Spencer wasn’t too fond of me.

Spencer sighed and didn’t look at me.

“He won’t talk to me. I… I asked him what was wrong and he told me it was none of my business, but… I don’t know. We got in a fight and he wont answer any of my calls.” I further explained.

Spencer sighed again, but didn’t look at me.

“He’s having family problems.” Spencer finally said. “He’s been really sensitive lately, probably because he’s been bottling up all his feelings. I told him to tell you what was going on, but he probably didn’t want to talk about it. Give him some time. He’ll come around.”

I nodded, figuring it was something a long those lines. “Am I allowed to know what it is?” I asked.

He paused before answering. “It’s not really my business to tell you, but since you’re his boyfriend, its probably better if you knew the details nonetheless.” He paused again before speaking. “His dad has been drinking. A lot. And he isn’t really… a nice drunk I guess you could say.”

My eyes widened. “Spencer, is his dad abusing him?” I asked in a frantic whisper.

Spencer sighed yet again. “Not physically I don’t think. I haven’t seen any signs of it. But he does say things he doesn’t mean that are hurtful, but I think Ryan’s really just worried is all.”

I nodded. “Why didn’t he tell me?” I asked, suddenly very worried for is well being.

“He probably just didn’t want to drag his family drama into one of the only things that makes him happy.” Spencer said. “Do not under any circumstances bring it up or tell him I told you. Do you understand?” Spencer ordered giving me a hard look.

“Uh, yeah. No. I wont.” I said suddenly feeling the urge to pull Ryan into my arms and never let him go. Poor kid,

“Okay. Promise?”

“Yeah, I promise I won’t mention it to Ryan.” I said.

He nodded. “Okay. I have to get to class.” He said before closing his locker and walking past me.

As if on cue, the bell rang.

~*~

When lunch time rolled around, I was able to catch him at his locker before he met up with his friends.

“Ryan?” I asked meekly from behind him.

He tuned around to look at me in response.

“Um,” I started. “Ryan I’m really sorry.”

His look softened.

“I… I shouldn’t have pushed you. I’m sorry I made you think this was still about the sex, because it’s really not.” I continued, placing my hand on his shoulder.
He exhaled before falling into me, and pressing his face into my shoulder.

“I’m sorry too.” He mumbled, though muffled through my shirt.

I wrapped my arms around him and held onto him in the most comforting way I could manage, resisting the urge to tell him that I was sorry for everything that’s happened to him, and that he could come stay with me if he needed.
But I promised Spencer I wouldn’t so I didn’t.

“I’ve just been having a hard time at home.” He said lifting his face from my shoulder, but still holding onto me. “You don’t have to worry about it though. I’ve just been kind of moody lately because of it. I’m sorry I told you to butt out, I know you were just worried.”

I pulled away and smiled sweetly at him before pecking him on the lips.

“It’s alright. You don’t have to apologize.” I said. “Let’s go lunch, yeah?” I suggested before grabbing his hand and lacing our fingers.

He nodded in agreement before he we headed for the cafeteria.

~*~

Ryan’s POV

I walked through my front door after a somewhat nice day at school I suppose. 

Being with Brendon really helped me forget about my dad for the most part, which is why I really shouldn’t have gotten angry and snapped like I did, and why I’m really glad that he came up to me today and apologized even though nothing is his fault.

And it’s why I feel like a total dick for what I said to him.

It’s really amazing how much that boy has changed from the Urie I knew six months 
ago. I would have never dreamed that I would feel this way about him. I Would have never thought that I’d get a fuzzy feeling in my stomach just from his smile, or feel safe and that I could do absolutely anything when he held me.

Shit. I also never knew I was this cheesy.

But anyway, as I got home, everything that I tried to forget hit me again once I saw my dad spread out on the couch with a half empty vodka bottle in hand.

My original intention had been to just hide up in my room for the rest of the day, but he stopped me before I reached the stairs.

“H-Hey George. Come here.” he ordered in his slurred voice.

My heart rate increased as I slowly turned towards and approached him.

“W-where da fuck have y-you been all day? I told you to clean your mother fucking r-room.” he continued, staring me down with his glossy eyes.

“I was at school dad.” I mumbled. “And you never told me-”

“Don’t fucking tell me what I-I said. I know I told you to clean up your mother fucking room like a man, not run away like a p-pussy.” He slurred, taking another swig from the bottle. The words still hurt, even if what he said didn’t make any sense what so ever.

“What are you-”

“I don’t know how the fuck I raised such a pussy boy. Hell, you don’t even f-fu… You’re a faggot. Your mom would be ashamed.” he continued. I felt a sharp pain in my chest at his words. I know he didn’t mean them, he’s drunk out of his mind for fucks sake.

But they say if anything comes out when you’re drunk it’s honesty.
So what if it’s true?

“I don’t even know h-how I raised such a f-fucking screw up. G-getting lost… Fucking boys in the woods… Who fucking does that?”

My eyes stung and there were tears threatening to fall, but I held them back as hard as I possibly could. I wasn’t going to let him see me like this. Not when he was in that state.

“I haven’t fucked anyone.” I mumbled, more for my own reassurance then anything. It’s not like he really gave a fuck.

The next thing I knew, he had fisted my shirt and pulled me down so I was eye level with him, and closer then I’d like to be.

“Don’t fucking lie to me.” He spit. I could feel his warm bitter breath hit my face.

“I- I’m not-”

I was cut off by his hand colliding with my cheek, and the stinging it left afterwards.
I froze in shock, my brain taking a moment to comprehend what had just happened.
He then pushed me away suddenly numbing something along the lines of “get out of my site.”

I stumbled backwards, nearly tripping over the coffee table, then grabbed my bag and rushed out the door as the tears began to fall.

~*~

Never in my life before recently has my dad so much as raised his vice at me.
And now… This.

I jumped in my car, but just sat for a moment, processing. I glanced in the mirror and noted the red mark on the right side of my face, and the tear streaks the shined against it.

I wiped the tears from my face, wincing at the sting.

It actually looked worse then it was.
The emotional damage out weighed the physical.

~*~

I found myself standing on Brendon’s front porch wiping the tears from my face as I knocked on his door.

He opened it, and concern seemed to have washed over his features as he took in my appearance.

“Are you home alone?” I asked.

At this moment in time, I needed Brendon more then I had ever needed anyone in my entire life. Everything at home is fucked up, but Brendon… Brendon and I aren’t. 

He makes me happy. He makes me forget. It’s almost as if his touch has these magic powers that devour any type of sadness or discomfort and replace it with warmth. I needed his touch. I needed him to hold me. I needed him to kiss me. I needed him in every way. I needed him to make me forget.

“For about the next twenty minutes.” He answered, mumbling quickly. He then pulled me into his arms and into the house. “Ryan, what’s wrong? Did something happen?” he asked, sounding worried as he sat me down on the couch.

I sniffed, and more tears fell down my face when I tried to speak.

He brought his hand up to gently caress my face when he stopped and noticed the red mark. His eyes widened but he didn’t say anything.

“My dad hit me. He was drunk and hit me.” I finally spit out.

The look on Brendon’s face went from concern to what looked like sadness mixed with horror. He almost looked like he could shed a tear as well.

He pulled me back into his arms and whispered soothing, meaningless, “it’s okay’s” and “Let it all out’s” in my ear. The words didn’t matter. Just his voice was soothing enough.

“Its okay, baby, I’m here for you.” He whispered. It was the first time he’d ever used a pet name, and if it were any other circumstances I’d probably be gushing.

I continued to hold onto him tightly and cry into his chest, and he continued his best attempt at soothing. 

Finally I couldn't take it anymore. I needed more. Hugs and hand holding wasn't enough, not when I was in that emotional state. 

I grabbed his face and brought his lips down on mine roughly. He responded, but not immediately, and he seemed hesitant. I continued to move quickly, pushing him on his back, shoving my tongue in his mouth, moving my hands to try and touch him everywhere at once. 

I concentrated on nothing more then the feeling of his lips against mine, and the touch and the heat of his body pressed tight against mine. Or mine against his really. I moved my hands under his shirt and concentrated on the smooth planes of his chest and abdomen, before moving one hand back up to his face to cup his cheek.

He kissed back, and held onto my hips, but didn't do much else. I think he was most likely afraid of what would happen if he accidently pushed too far because of my current state. 

But at that point I didn't care. 

I just needed as much of him as possible.