I Never Told You What I Do For A Living

"This is it," Spencer said as we walked into his house. Ryan looked reluctant about going inside, but the look vanished once he realized I'd noticed. He crossed his arms and followed closely behind Spencer.

"Ryan, calm down, it's fine," I pleaded quietly, even though I'm sure Spencer heard too.

Ryan just shrugged lightly and ignored me, looking at Spencer.

"Where are we sleeping?" he asked. Spencer thought for a moment.

"Follow me," he said finally, and led us down a narrow hallway. At the very end, he opened a door, revealing a room slightly smaller than the one at the hotel (but much nicer, and I was sure I didn't have to worry about getting herpes from sleeping on the bed).

"This is the spare bedroom," Spencer informed us, half-smiling. "You guys are used to sharing by now, yeah? Because the couch'll really hurt your back, and-"

"We're fine with sharing," Ryan butted in, arms still crossed and expression unreadable. Was he really that worried that Spencer was going to get us sent back to jail? I told him Spencer wouldn't, but he obviously didn't believe me. And that kind of hurt a little.

"Good," Spencer replied slowly, giving Ryan a questioning expression. There was a pause. "You don't...trust me, do you Ryan?"

Ryan pressed his lips into a thin line and looked at me a moment before looking back to Spencer.

"I have to, don't I?" he asked, sighing, and turned to begin walking into the room. Spencer glanced at me.

"He's..." I paused. "He's fine. Just give him awhile. And I swear to god, Spencer, if you actually call the c-"

"I'm not calling anyone," he promised. "Brendon, you need to believe me. As far as I know, you'd just escape again and I'd be as good as dead. Plus, you're my friend. Or...you used to be."

"We're still friends," I said quietly. "And I trust you. You get why we're edgy though, right? It isn't exactly safe to be doing this, it's a last resort."

Spencer nodded and I snuck a glance into the room, where Ryan was watching us closely.

"Well," Spencer said, drawing my attention back to him. "If you guys want anything, tell me. There's, uh, food and stuff in the fridge, so. Make yourselves at home. There might be beer, too, just put the bottles into the blue can when you're done?"

Ah, Spencer. Always a recycling freak.

"We don't drink," Ryan hissed from the bedroom. Spencer nodded slowly and looked at me for an explanation.

"We don't drink," I echoed, and Spencer simply sighed, knowing he wasn't going to get an answer.

"Alright, then. I'm going to watch TV, if that's okay with you guys..." he said, and I nodded.

"Go ahead," I replied, smirking at the fact that he asked permission. I'd almost forgotten that we were the ones in charge here.

Spencer started towards the stairs, and I made my way into the bedroom, where Ryan was now laying on the bed, staring at the ceiling.

"Ryan?" I asked. He didn't look away.

"Hm?"

"You okay? Spencer isn't going to turn us in, if that's what you're worried about."

"I'm not," he replied, but I could tell it wasn't the truth.

"Just relax, okay? For once, we don't have to worry about getting caught and put in jail again. Stop worrying so much. I really trust Spencer, Ryan."

Ryan sat up and looked me dead in the eye.

"I can never just not worry about getting caught, Brendon. I'm always on edge, okay? Just leave me alone until we're out of here, because even if you trust him, I'm not sure if I should," he said sternly. I shook my head.

"No."

"No?" he asked, sounding slightly annoyed.

"No, Ryan. I'm not just gonna ignore you until we leave. We're partners, okay? You're supposed to fucking trust me! If I believe that Spencer's not going to turn us in, then you need to believe it too! Have I ever once second guessed you, Ryan? Ever? No, because I fucking trust you, and I know that if you tell me something, then it's true and it isn't going to get us caught. All I'm asking is that you do the same for me, okay?" I ranted, sitting down on the edge of the bed. "Is it really that much to ask?"

Ryan sighed and looked down.

"No," he mumbled quietly. "You're right, you're right."

It was silent for a few minutes, and then Ryan looked up at me.

"So, you've been friends with him since you were kids?" he asked. I nodded.

"Yeah. We went to elementary school together. He used to help me out when the big kids took my crayons," I laughed quietly, and Ryan half-smiled.

"When did you stop talking?"

"Uh...I don't know, not too long after I got convicted and we met," I replied, shrugging. "He used to visit me in the jail, but then we planned to leave, and I didn't want anyone to think he had anything to do with it, you know? So we stopped talking."

Ryan opened his mouth to say something, but a loud knock cut him off.

"What was that?" I asked, and Ryan's eyes widened.

"I don't kn-"

"Someone's here, hide!" Spencer whisper-yelled, quickly running into the room and then back out again. Ryan and I both looked across the room at the same time, to the tiny closet, and then back to each other.

"Alright, then," I said, hurrying over to the closet and sitting down inside. Ryan crawled in next to me, and I closed the door, making it almost completely dark.

"Fuck," he hissed, sighing angrily.

"What?" I whispered. He looked at me like I was an idiot.

"Someone just had to show up. This always fucking happens. Can we ever fucking catch a break? Just once?" he growled, shifting his leg into another position. "And this closet is really fucking cramped. I swear, if you knee me in the balls..."

"I won't knee you in the balls," I laughed quietly, moving my arm so that I wasn't elbowing him in the side anymore. "Just ssh. I don't know how long we're going to be in here, so stop complaining about it and try to get comfortable."

He sighed and nodded, shifting a little and resting his head on my shoulder.

"What are you doing?" I asked. He smirked.

"Getting comfortable."

I rolled my eyes and slouched a little, leaning against a pile of what I guessed were spare blankets.

"Whatever."