I Never Told You What I Do For A Living

Brendon's POV

What a fucking prick. A prick. Thinking he can just say whatever the fuck he wants, and-

“Brendon, come on, open the fucking door.”

I narrowed my eyes at the door.

“Fuck off!” I shouted. He stopped banging on it. I sighed. Fucking good, maybe he got the hint. It’s not like I didn’t make it clear that I don’t want him near me.

I quickly wiped off my cheeks. Why am I even fucking crying, anyway?

I started to think.

Maybe Ryan was right. We should have never started dating in the first place. I don’t know why I ever wanted to date someone like him. He killed his own fucking dad, it should have been obvious that he doesn’t really care about the feelings or well-being of anyone but himself. That he’s fucking incapable of loving anyone without hurting them in the end.

I should just give him up to the cops. Wouldn’t that be funny?

I sighed.

No. That would actually be more dickish than Ryan…uh. Being a dick.

And that’s pretty dickish.

Is dickish a word?

Either way, I wouldn’t ever be able to do that. I’d get caught, too, anyway.

He deserved it, though. People like him should be in jail. Where they can keep their fucking misery to themselves and refrain from hurting anyone else.

Uh. But I guess that kind of means I should be in jail too, huh?

Whatever.

What an asshole.

~•~

When I left the room that night to get something to eat, Spencer was on the couch watching some sitcom while Ryan stared blankly at the TV from the loveseat.

“Did you make food?” I asked, looking at Spencer. He shook his head.

“No, why?”

“Hungry,” I mumbled, walking into the kitchen and looking in the fridge.

Someone needed to go shopping. This was pathetic.

“Spencer, you need to get food,” I groaned, opening the freezer. “All that’s left is grape popsicles. And grape is the worst flavor.”

“I like grape,” Spencer laughed, shrugging. Ryan glanced at me questioningly.

“Brendon? I-“

“No,” I replied, taking the popsicle and walking back upstairs.

He didn’t follow me.

~•~

Two days had passed. Two miserable, stupid days; and I was in the bedroom, watching TV.

How I Met Your Mother, to be exact. Because even murderers know quality television when they see it.

…and also because I had nothing else to do, because Ryan apparently decided that I get to be trapped in the room while he gets to roam through the rest of the house.

I guess I could roam, if I wanted. But then I’d have to talk to him.

Which I honestly just don’t want to do.

Maybe I’m being a little overemotional.

But you know what? Fuck that. I don’t care. I can be as emotional and petty as I want.

“Alright, that’s it.”

I glanced up from the TV to see Spencer staring at me disapprovingly from the doorway.

“What?” I asked. He sighed loudly, walking in and closing the door behind him.

“You know exactly what. What’s going on with you and Ryan? It’s been fucking days. The tension is getting to me, and I have nothing to do with anything.”

I shrugged.

“I don’t know.”

“How can you just not-“

“Because.”

Spencer rolled his eyes.

“Well, what happened the other day, when he came up here to talk? He seemed really freaked out when he came back downstairs,” he offered. “Did he apologize?”

“I think he tried to, but I told him he was an asshole and I’m done with him,” I replied casually. What does that even mean, ‘done with him’?

Maybe he thinks I broke up with him or something.

…maybe I did.

Good.

Spencer frowned.

“You broke up with him?” he asked disbelievingly. I shrugged.

“I guess.”

He sighed, shaking his head.

“And you don’t even care?”

I glared at him.

“What are you saying, Spencer? That I should be all, ‘oh, it’s okay, because I love you even though you're continuously being a prick, and your only excuse is ‘I was angry’ even though you had no reason to be. That’s totally okay because our love is eternal so treat me however you want your majesty because that’s how relationships work’? Fuck that,” I hissed. “I refuse to be that person. I’m not going to let him think that it’s okay to treat me like that, because it isn’t. It’s not fair. He had no reason to explode on me.”

Spencer bit his lip, looking like he was trying to decide whether to say something or not.

“What?” I urged.

“I did hear you yelling too, and you didn’t sound too much like a victim,” he mumbled, shrugging. “I’m just saying that it’s a fight, and it’s not like people don’t fight. You don’t have to end everything just because Ryan was an asshole one time.”

I gaped at him for a good five seconds.

“One time? You know what this was all originally about, Spencer? Me going to go see my mom, and not asking his permission.” I scowled. “And then he managed to blow it this out of proportion.”

“You did too,” Spencer replied. “It’s not like I can’t hear every damn thing you say when you guys scream like that. He’s not the only one that blew it out of proportion. You brought his parents into it, Brendon. Do you even remember what you said? If that was me, I would have been pissed too. You were both just pissed off. Shit happens, you know? I’m not saying that no one was in the wrong, because yeah, he was being over controlling or whatever. But no one likes to be reminded of things they’ve spent years forgetting, so it's not really shocking that he got as pissed as he did.”

I frowned.

“Can you just…leave?” I asked. Spencer rolled his eyes.

“Fine, have it your way. But I hope you realize how much more complicated things are going to be, now.”

And then he was gone.

What exactly was that supposed to mean?

…I guess he was right, things were going to be more complicated if Ryan and I weren’t dating. I don’t see how we’re going to be able to successfully kill and manage to avoid the police if we’re at each other’s throats.

But then maybe he should have thought of that beforehand.

You were an asshole too, Spencer was right.

But it was totally justified!

Two wrongs don’t make a right. And is it really that hard to understand why he was so mad? You brought up his parents. Low blow.

So? That’s not even…I was angry!

So was he. If he’s not allowed to justify what he said with the fact that he was angry, neither are you.

But…fuck it.

I frowned and sat my book down. Fucking brain.

I sighed.

Maybe that’s true. Maybe Spencer is right. We were both angry, and we were both in the wrong.

Maybe I am being too overemotional.

“God damn it,” I mumbled to myself, standing up and glancing at the door. “I guess I should fucking apologize, then.”