Bite the Hand That Feeds
pieces of you.
It’s all me, you know. All me. That’s what they want. The bones under the flesh and the fingers that know what to do. They’d skin me alive if I let them, just to have been the one to do it. To destroy something beautiful. Because they hate me. They love to fuck me, push me down, pull my hair, but they hate me. They couldn’t do what they do to me if they didn’t hate me.
It’s not their fault though. I hate me, too. Almost as much as I hate them. I can’t stand it. I don’t know why I do this. I don’t want to be a whore. Every time they force me down, I hate them a little more. They’re going to pay for all of this one day. I’ll make them pay.
__________________________________________*
Brendon put his key in the lock and pushed open the hotel room door. He pushed at the man he didn’t recognize, who opened his eyes and looked up. “Who the hell are you?”
“Get out or I’ll tell your wife.”
It didn’t matter than Brendon had no idea who the guy was, let alone his wife. The guy got dressed and was gone within minutes. Sighing, Brendon sat down next to Ryan, who was still sleeping, and began stroking his hair. No one really knew why the men had started, just when. It had fallen to Brendon to wake the lyricist every morning.
He let Ryan sleep for another half hour before he woke the boy up and helped him into the shower. “We have an interview with a radio station and then a photoshoot.” Brendon told him, examining his reflection in the mirror and making a face at a new pimple. “I’m ordering room service. What do you want?”
“French toast and bacon.” Ryan mumbled, still clearly tired. “And a latte.”
__________________________________________*
I hate what they do to you. Why do you let this happen? You’re smarter than this, Ryan. You’re better than them. You’re a demigod and they’re just trash. Nothing more. What happened to you? Six months ago, you would have flown at me for picking up the pieces of your mistakes. Now you’re just a child, completely defenseless.
Why do you do this to yourself, Ryan? Why do you do this to us?
__________________________________________*
Zack grabbed Brendon by the arm a few hours after lunch. “Ryan’s got a guy on the bus.” he said in a low voice. “Do you—”
“I got it.” Brendon interrupted, sighing and holding out his hand for a key. He didn’t wait for the man’s well-meaning words, just turned and headed outside. He pressed his ear expertly against the bus door before unlocking it. “Knock, knock?” he called, stepping inside.
“Fuck.” Ryan hissed, scrambling out of his bunk and into his jeans. “Brendon?”
“He needs to go.” the younger boy said quietly. There was nothing to suggest the frustration he felt in the statement. “You got ten minutes and then I’ll be back.”
__________________________________________*
Why do you humiliate me like that? It’s not bad enough that they do it, is it? You have to help. I thought you loved me. You’re not like them. Stop it. Just stop it!
__________________________________________*
Ryan’s hand was soft as he applied the eyeliner for Brendon. “Please don’t come find me after the show.” he whispered, eyes pleading. “I’ll be fine, okay?”
Brendon didn’t answer for a moment. Ryan looked tired, desperate. Underneath the make-up he could see the dark circles. He didn’t like it. They last time Ryan had looked so harried, Brendon had been shaken awake at three in the morning.
“Get them out of my room.” he begged. “Please. Get them away.”
Brendon hadn’t been able to make them leave. There’d been four. He’d had to call Zack and Ryan hadn’t spoken to him for two weeks once his hotel room was empty.
But they were leaving after the show with no hotel stops planned, so when Ryan capped the eyeliner, the younger gave an abrupt nod. “Don’t make me regret this.” he murmured. He reached out suddenly and squeezed his best friend’s wrist. “You look beautiful, Ry.” he added softly.
Ryan left, turning so Brendon couldn’t see the tears that were suddenly shining in his eyes.
__________________________________________*
Don’t call me that. I’ll just have to remember it when I’m trying not to cry later. I know you mean well, but you don’t understand.
__________________________________________*
There was a guy at the gas station when Ryan went in to buy a pack of gum. He was the type. Eyes narrowed in an almost angry appraisal, fingers twitching as if they wanted to reach out and squeeze Ryan’s throat. It wasn’t wasted on the boy, but he just turned his head away. Something didn’t feel right. He should have been checking his wallet for a condom, but he wasn’t.
He waited until he saw the guy’s car pull away before he went back outside, shoving his hands in his pockets and walking off down the sidewalk. He didn’t want to be ripped apart tonight, for some reason. He just wanted to clear his head. Maybe if he got Brendon out of it, then he would be able to go back to the gas station and find someone else.
Just those words, those words. That word. The one Brendon had thrown out so casually. That one word, echoing back and forth in his head. Making him wonder things. Like, maybe, if he was ready to let go.
__________________________________________*
Ryan was in Brendon’s bunk when the younger boy climbed onto the bus. He tugged the earphones out and looked at the other boy curiously. “You okay, Ryan?”
He received a nod in response and silent hand gestures beckoning him into the bunk. Brendon had barely crawled in when Ryan kissed him full on the mouth before snuggling into his chest. “Do you really think I’m beautiful, Bren?” he whispered.
“You’re gorgeous, Ry.” the boy murmured back, stroking his hair. “You should know that.”
“They never tell me I’m beautiful.” Ryan blinked back tears, inhaling the scent of the other boy, memorizing the feel of the fingers in his hair. “They call me names. They hurt me, Bren.” HIs voice cracked. “And I let them.” He tried to fight the tears, but he couldn’t.
Gently, slowly—as if Ryan were a faun he didn’t want to scare—Brendon lifted his face, brushing the hair from his eyes. “Don’t worry about that anymore. I’m not going to let them hurt you ever again.”
Ryan sniffled and nodded and lay his head back on Brendon’s chest.
Thank you.
It’s not their fault though. I hate me, too. Almost as much as I hate them. I can’t stand it. I don’t know why I do this. I don’t want to be a whore. Every time they force me down, I hate them a little more. They’re going to pay for all of this one day. I’ll make them pay.
__________________________________________*
Brendon put his key in the lock and pushed open the hotel room door. He pushed at the man he didn’t recognize, who opened his eyes and looked up. “Who the hell are you?”
“Get out or I’ll tell your wife.”
It didn’t matter than Brendon had no idea who the guy was, let alone his wife. The guy got dressed and was gone within minutes. Sighing, Brendon sat down next to Ryan, who was still sleeping, and began stroking his hair. No one really knew why the men had started, just when. It had fallen to Brendon to wake the lyricist every morning.
He let Ryan sleep for another half hour before he woke the boy up and helped him into the shower. “We have an interview with a radio station and then a photoshoot.” Brendon told him, examining his reflection in the mirror and making a face at a new pimple. “I’m ordering room service. What do you want?”
“French toast and bacon.” Ryan mumbled, still clearly tired. “And a latte.”
__________________________________________*
I hate what they do to you. Why do you let this happen? You’re smarter than this, Ryan. You’re better than them. You’re a demigod and they’re just trash. Nothing more. What happened to you? Six months ago, you would have flown at me for picking up the pieces of your mistakes. Now you’re just a child, completely defenseless.
Why do you do this to yourself, Ryan? Why do you do this to us?
__________________________________________*
Zack grabbed Brendon by the arm a few hours after lunch. “Ryan’s got a guy on the bus.” he said in a low voice. “Do you—”
“I got it.” Brendon interrupted, sighing and holding out his hand for a key. He didn’t wait for the man’s well-meaning words, just turned and headed outside. He pressed his ear expertly against the bus door before unlocking it. “Knock, knock?” he called, stepping inside.
“Fuck.” Ryan hissed, scrambling out of his bunk and into his jeans. “Brendon?”
“He needs to go.” the younger boy said quietly. There was nothing to suggest the frustration he felt in the statement. “You got ten minutes and then I’ll be back.”
__________________________________________*
Why do you humiliate me like that? It’s not bad enough that they do it, is it? You have to help. I thought you loved me. You’re not like them. Stop it. Just stop it!
__________________________________________*
Ryan’s hand was soft as he applied the eyeliner for Brendon. “Please don’t come find me after the show.” he whispered, eyes pleading. “I’ll be fine, okay?”
Brendon didn’t answer for a moment. Ryan looked tired, desperate. Underneath the make-up he could see the dark circles. He didn’t like it. They last time Ryan had looked so harried, Brendon had been shaken awake at three in the morning.
“Get them out of my room.” he begged. “Please. Get them away.”
Brendon hadn’t been able to make them leave. There’d been four. He’d had to call Zack and Ryan hadn’t spoken to him for two weeks once his hotel room was empty.
But they were leaving after the show with no hotel stops planned, so when Ryan capped the eyeliner, the younger gave an abrupt nod. “Don’t make me regret this.” he murmured. He reached out suddenly and squeezed his best friend’s wrist. “You look beautiful, Ry.” he added softly.
Ryan left, turning so Brendon couldn’t see the tears that were suddenly shining in his eyes.
__________________________________________*
Don’t call me that. I’ll just have to remember it when I’m trying not to cry later. I know you mean well, but you don’t understand.
__________________________________________*
There was a guy at the gas station when Ryan went in to buy a pack of gum. He was the type. Eyes narrowed in an almost angry appraisal, fingers twitching as if they wanted to reach out and squeeze Ryan’s throat. It wasn’t wasted on the boy, but he just turned his head away. Something didn’t feel right. He should have been checking his wallet for a condom, but he wasn’t.
He waited until he saw the guy’s car pull away before he went back outside, shoving his hands in his pockets and walking off down the sidewalk. He didn’t want to be ripped apart tonight, for some reason. He just wanted to clear his head. Maybe if he got Brendon out of it, then he would be able to go back to the gas station and find someone else.
Just those words, those words. That word. The one Brendon had thrown out so casually. That one word, echoing back and forth in his head. Making him wonder things. Like, maybe, if he was ready to let go.
__________________________________________*
Ryan was in Brendon’s bunk when the younger boy climbed onto the bus. He tugged the earphones out and looked at the other boy curiously. “You okay, Ryan?”
He received a nod in response and silent hand gestures beckoning him into the bunk. Brendon had barely crawled in when Ryan kissed him full on the mouth before snuggling into his chest. “Do you really think I’m beautiful, Bren?” he whispered.
“You’re gorgeous, Ry.” the boy murmured back, stroking his hair. “You should know that.”
“They never tell me I’m beautiful.” Ryan blinked back tears, inhaling the scent of the other boy, memorizing the feel of the fingers in his hair. “They call me names. They hurt me, Bren.” HIs voice cracked. “And I let them.” He tried to fight the tears, but he couldn’t.
Gently, slowly—as if Ryan were a faun he didn’t want to scare—Brendon lifted his face, brushing the hair from his eyes. “Don’t worry about that anymore. I’m not going to let them hurt you ever again.”
Ryan sniffled and nodded and lay his head back on Brendon’s chest.
Thank you.