Arches

Its times like this, that I contemplate my sanity. Times like this when I wake up, sprawled across my bed, hair disheveled, obnoxiously yellow shirt still clinging to my skin, that I think I've finally just lost it.

What the hell am I doing?

" Brendon darling!" Ohjesusfullofgracegodmarydammit.

I have all of three seconds to cover my half naked body, and disguise the fact I'm wearing his shirt.

" Honey there's- Oh my..." But I don't really get the chance.

My mother shuts my door quickly and I yell back that I'm changing. It's when I hear her sigh that the realization hits me... I really need a shower, because I deffinately ... Well, you can probably guess, and so can my mother, judging by her tone when she tells me someone's at the door, asking for me.

What if it's Ryan?

I rush into a pair of tight jeans, (as tight as they could possibly be in a religious household) and run past my mother, sprinting downstairs and swinging open the front door, outof breath and, reeking like sex...

" H-hi Ryan!" I mentally slap myself for sounding so stupid (and just the tiniest bit excited).

He's staring at me, casually leaning in the doorway of my house, smirking. If there was a single word that crossed my mind at that point, it was deffinately ... Surepticious . I didn't realize how long I had been standing there, just looking at everything that was the sinful, nonchalantly disregarding man before me, until he's speaking, in his blasé, interrogative tone.

" Hey- Brendon, gonna call ya Bren'-" He runs an ever so shaky hand through his carelessly tossed hair, " How bout, ya show me around the town. Ya know, and I can take you home, Baby ..." The word makes my fingers pull at the yellow vneck still on my body, rather nervously.

I can hear my mother behind me, questioning Ryans presence, questioning my atire, askaskask . So it take on look back at Ryan, disappearing behind the door, my mother demanding as I grabbed my old converse and ran out the frontdoor, grabbing Ryans arm and pulling him to me, down the front stoop, away from the suffocation. I couldn't understand what just came over me, ignore my mother, leaving without anysort of permission, I just broke, I just needed out .

We're just behind the school, down that same pathway as before, when Ryan shoves me upagainst the fence, chain links clattering at the contact. His fingers painlessly pressing into my arms, his breath hot against my ear, and I rest my forehead on his shoulder, breathing in the greese and nicotine. The cool breeze-bitten skin offers immediate relief to my growing headache, and Ryan says nothing as I regain my composure, steadying myself against him. It a long awkward moment, and as soon as he presses his face into my thick hair, and inhales, the silence is broken.

" Somebody got busy..." I could be blind forever, and still know Ryan was smirking, flippant, and just everything I wasn't.

I mull over his terminology momentarily, bit then it dawns on me that, oh god , he can smell it...

" Wh-what, i have no idea what you're t-talking about." I don't know why, but I push my self from under his weight, away from his curious hands. He's still just smirking at me.

" I know you didn't fuck anyone, I mean- you're to much of a pussy- But..." He corners me again, so confident as he reaches for my hand, lifting it to his jaw, " Did you finger yourself, or just jack off?" Neck bending the rest of the way to take two of my fingers into his mouth.

All I can do is watch, feel, as his tongue slid across my fingers, slick with saliva and his cheecks hollowed ever so slightly. I curl the digits in his mouth and he hunks softly, what I would assume to be a sort of laugh, as his other hand came up to rest on my hip, forcing us closer. I can't help but imagine his mouth on my body, pressing to my chest, biting at my hip, wrapped around my-

" Fuck." He pulls his mouth away from me, smiling, licking his lips like a shameless harlot. But what was he, a man? The ring master in a circus of my mind. He played me like a piano. So simple, just to goddamn easy.

" Can I take you home? I mean you look just like a little kicked puppy, babe-" He stops short though, " Sorry, Brendon ." Then he's gone, wandering away down the forested path, off to anplace I could only imagine.

So I run, I follow, I stay as close to Ryan as humanly possible without actually touching him. I'm brought to this place in my mind, a sort of road. I could've go e home, but I didn't. And east side Vegas was so different from here, where we were walking up the dimly lit concrete staircase to an old creaky apartment building that had been standin since the late 40's, but was now just reduced to peeling wallpaper, reviling walls that basically oozed overdose. Ryan pulled me against him when a couple men with jeans that clung low on there backsides stood straight from wher they had been leaning. They watched us; me, as we slowly slithered through the dingy hall, once ret carpet now brown and stained, curling up where it met the corners of walls.

I'm so relieved when Ryan forces a key he pulls from his jeans into a locked door, shoving until it gave way and opened with a shudder.

The apartment teamed like some unknown substance. A couple packed of cigarettes on the table in the sad excuse for a living room, and nothing more then unrecognizable mess. Ryan seats himself on the old ripped up couch, as all I could donwas stand there idoly, glancing back between the door, and Ryan.

Ryan rubs at his nose absently as he tells me make myself comfortable. He's acting odd, and I know it may sound so overplayed, but I can't help it as the words leave my mouth.

" Are you high?"

That damn smirk.

" Not much," A short laugh, " I'm just fucking crashing now, baby."

" Don't call me that." I wasn't going to be the victim anymore, I was so sick of his derogative tone.

" Than don't be one." And what was I supossedly to say to that? " Fuck you." I spit it at him like the most vulgar thing ever, and to me, it was.

" Is that an offer Bren? Because don't go making promises you cant keep." Then he's standing, and my body is set, I'm sick of alwYs being the one to deal with people's bullshit because I'm afraid. I'm not going to be afraid anymore.

" Suck my dick!"

" You can do better than that, rich bitch." His tone, such a fucking challenge.

" Shut the fuck up-" I grab the nearest thing to me, throwing it hard at thr wall behind him.

" There it is! So much for the perfect fucking bible brat, right?" Still smirking.

" Fuck YOU !" My voice breaks from the volume of my shouting.

" You've always let people use you, Brendon-" Hes right, he's so fucking right that it hurts.

" Fuck you- you're a worthless fucking nothing! Lying- fucking pretending- because no one ever fucking found you good enough - Fucking-idiot piece of shit!" It my fists I'm throwing against the wall now, my head violently smashing into it. " I fucking hate you..." I sink to the floor,defeated, convulsively shaking, and I didn't realize I was crying until Ryans there, lifting my chin, smirk no longer on his face.

That's when our mouths meet, open, demanding, desperate. His tongue is on mine immediately, teeth and lips lost in the depth. My hands are gripping his arms as I let him own me, and though there was nothing gentle or sweet about this, it didn't matter, because this was us, who we really were, and no one would ever change us.

God would never change us.