Hey Moon

"This is the scent of dead skin on a linoleum floor.
This is the scent of quarantine wings in a hospital."
Camisado-Panic!AtTheDisco

{Ryan}

The funeral was on Friday. I didn't tell any of my friends about my mom's...death. I haven't really talked to anyone, for that matter, since that night five days ago. I haven't gone to school. I went to the hospital and had a cast put on my hand.

It broke in four places. Bruises in the shape of my dad's fist and belt buckle were covering my body. My nose was broken, also. It hurt like hell.

Brendon tried to call me a few times—107, actually—but I never picked up. I couldn't bring myself to talk to anyone. Pete had Gabe and Nate come to my house, but of course, I didn't answer the door. Two days later, another knock sounded at our door. I looked out the peephole and saw Pete himself standing on my porch.

I didn't open the door.

As I sat under the tent in the cemetery, I felt tears streaming down my face. My mother's family was here. Because of my father, she didn't really have any friends. My dad stood in the back. He was only there because he felt guilty. There weren't many teary faces. Most of these people had lost my mom a long time ago.

I heard a loud, wrenching sob from behind me. I turned in my folding chair and saw my dad with his fist pressed to his lips. His eyes were red and swollen and it took me a while to process that he was crying.

They lowered her coffin into the ground and began filling the grave with dirt. My mom was dead and no one could change it. The tent and chairs were packed up, people went back to their cars—some rentals—and left. I stood next to the fresh grave and stared at the headstone.

"C'mon, kid," my dad said softly, coming up behind me. "We gotta go. Let's have dinner. Chili's?" he asked.

"Why are you being so nice?" I whispered.

"I may have been rotten, but I still loved her," he told me. I nodded and got into his beat-up Camaro.

*Brendon*

Tonight was guys' night. Honestly, I shouldn't be a part of this group, but for some reason I was. Alex, Caleb, Jon, John, Spencer, and I were meeting at Alex's house.

The six of us were just going to chill and watch movies. Well, I thought we were.

I walked into Alex's basement. "Brendon's here!" Caleb yelled. The guys assembled and sat on the couch.

"Hey, guys," I said. They nodded, keeping their eyes on their shoes. Caleb looked fleetingly between them and me, before walking to he couch and sitting down in front of it—right on John's feet.

"Ow, man!" he yelled. They all burst out laughing.

"Brendon," Alex started. "there's no such thing as guys' night." I gave him a befuddled expression. "We assembled to force you to talk to Ryan. We know you broke it off with him—for a ridiculous reason, I'm sure—and we wanted you to get back together with him."

"He hasn't been in school for a week and no one answers when someone knocks on his door. They probably moved or whatever," I shrugged. I secretly hoped that wasn't true.

"That's not the point. You have to talk to him," Spee said.

"I've tried calling him," I stated.

"How many times? Three? Four?" Spencer asked. I looked at my phone records and did the math in my head.

"One hundred and seven times, actually," I responded.

"Maybe his phone's dead or something," Caleb offered.

"It isn't dead if it rings all eight times before going to voice mail," I snapped. To be honest, I was worried about him. I mean, my friends would be able to find out any dirt, but no ones heard from him since I ended things.

"Go to his house. We're all going to take a field trip. Right now," Alex said. Everyone nodded in agreement. I sighed, blowing my hair out of my face. I didn't have much of a choice. Majority rules.

We loaded into two separate cars—mine and Alex's. I drove in front of Alex, chasing the painted white and yellow lines along with the pavement. We arrived at Ryan's house in ten minutes—it was 9:30 when we got there.

Everyone got out of the cars and shoved me towards the door. I rapped my knuckles against the hard wood three times, causing a harsh staccato sound to resonate to my ears. There was no answer at the door.

"Well, he has to be home," John whispered.

"What do you want me to do?" I whisper-yelled.

"Is that his room?" he asked, pointing to a window. I nodded. "Climb the tree and knock," he said, shrugging.

"I'm scared of heights," I whispered, frantically.

"Oh, well," Alex said, wheeling me around and pushing me to the tree. He wasn't very strong, but he was stronger than I was.

I climbed the tree as carefully as possible, hugging myself to the trunk as often as possible. As I was almost high enough to reach Ryan's window, my branch almost gave way. I nearly had a heart attack. I crept along the uneven surface of the branch to the window. I reached out and knocked carefully. I waited a few seconds before looking down.

My friends were nowhere to be seen. And I was stuck in a tree. I knocked again. The blinds shifted and a familiar face appeared behind the curtain. His eyes widened and he threw the window open.

"What the fuck are you doing in my tree?!" Ryan exclaimed.

"I was kind of wondering the same thing," I said, rolling my eyes. He chuckled.

"Well, come on in," he said, moving away from the window.

"Uhm, I'm kind of...stuck," I admitted. He rolled his eyes, but held out his hands. I studied them for a second. One of them had a cast covering it. He nodded, motioning for me to take them, a small smile playing at the corner of his lips. I hesitantly took them, and he pulled me in on top of him.

He howled in pain. "Oh, god, I'm sorry!" I exclaimed.

"It's not your fault," he said, shaking his head. He stood up. I studied his face for any marker of what he meant, but instead I noticed deep purple shadows underneath his eyes. He looked horrible. I stood up behind him and grabbed his chin, forcing him to look at me. His nose was crooked.

"What happened to you? Your nose and your hand are broken," I accused. He looked away, and I sighed. "What happened?"

"I was just...I got in a fight with my dad. Okay? He kicked me in the face and he stepped on my hand. And whacked me around with a belt a little bit. But that's it," he said.

He was hiding something from me.

{Ryan}

"I was just...I got in a fight with my dad and it got bad. Okay? He kicked me in the face and he stepped on my hand. And whacked me around with a belt a little bit. But that's it," and you know, killed my mom, I added in my head.

Brendon narrowed his eyes. He could tell I was hiding something. He knew there was a reason I wasn't in school. He knew there was a reason I hadn't talked to him, hadn't talked to anyone for that matter. And by the look he was giving me, he knew it wasn't his fault either.

"What aren't you telling me?" he asked.

"Nothing," I said. He narrowed his eyes even more, if it were possible. "Nothing. I'm not hiding anything from you," I said.

"You're lying through your teeth. Come on. Why can't you tell me?" he whispered. My jaw dropped.

"Maybe because I poured my heart out to you, only to have you throw it back in my face! You just always have to push things don't you. You can't just listen to me when I tell you nothings wrong! Something always has to be fucking wrong!" I yelled. I felt tears rolling down my face. It felt good to let out my anger.

"Ryan...," he whispered.

"God, Brendon! You don't get it! You have two parents who love you! And don't you dare say that they hate you for being gay, because they don't! They'd kick you out! Your parents just have a hard time processing it! They'll get used to it, goddammit!

"You don't know what's it like to have a dad who only cares about work and booze! You don't know what it's like to not have a mom! She may not talk to you, but she still makes you breakfast, and does your laundry, and checks on your perfect grades, and pays for your clothes, and your car, and everything!

"You don't understand what it's like to not have any real friends! To have friends who will put you in the hospital just because you're not on time! Oh, a couple kids bully you, so you cut yourself. You know what? Some people have real problems!" I exploded. I punched the wall with my good hand, and felt no pain, though I could feel it bleeding.

"You want to know why I haven't been in school? Why I haven't answered any of your calls or answered the door or done anything? My mom's fucking dead. And it's all because of the bastard that calls himself my father," I said, sobbing.

Brendon's face turned into the perfect sympathetic facade. I didn't want his pity. I just wanted my mom back. He wrapped his arm around me and let me stain his shirt with my tears.

My dad didn't check on me once through all of it.