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-Brendon’s POV-

I don’t know what came over me, but I just wanted Ryan. That’s all that mattered. I don’t know how it happened. One minute, I’m cursing at him inside my head for starting all this, the next I’m passionately kissing him. Confusion overwhelmed me, but I didn’t care. I was giddy. We held each other for God knows how long, just content with everything.

All of a sudden I heard someone cry out in the hallway. Neither of us had enough time to react. The fears causing me to stay away from Ryan all this time became a fucking reality.

“BRENDON BOYD URIE, WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU DOING?” My mom screamed at me in fury. She sprinted across the room and pushed Ryan off of me. “IF YOU EVER TOUCH MY SON AGAIN, BOY, YOU DON’T WANT TO KNOW WHAT I’D DO TO YOU!” She kept screaming at him, over and over. Happy feeling gone. I was scared. The look on Ryan’s face was nothing but true terror. Tears welled up in his eyes when she finished screaming at him. “I want you OUT of my fucking house, you hear me, boy? GET YOUR THINGS, AND GET OUT.”

She ran out of the room, sobbing, so I hurried over to Ryan. He was curled up in the fetal position, looking like he wanted to die. Ugh, how could I have been so stupid? I knew it was a bad idea, yet at the time it seemed so right. Maybe it’s a sign that I’m just losing it.

I looked down at Ryan’s tear-covered face and held him up in my arms. “I’m sorry, Ryan… I just…” Before I could finish, he kissed me one more time. It was a delicate, meaningful kiss full of sorrow and longing to be together.

“I’m sorry, I have to go.” He stood up and left me alone in my room. I watched him across the hall as he packed up his things. I felt tears of my own begin to form as I realized what was happening. He was leaving, and he had absolutely nowhere to go. He saw me watching him and waved goodbye. That was it. He just left without another word, leaving me alone with my parents to deal with. I knew he had no choice, but it still made me feel like shit.

Once he left, my parents got in a huge argument. Screaming and yelling at each other over what to do with my “problem.” Ignorant bastards. They don’t understand me at all, and neither do I. Only Ryan does. I listened to them bicker and fight. The sounds of glass hitting the floor and scattering everywhere in millions of shards filled my ear drums. I couldn’t take this anymore. I slammed my door loud enough for them to hear it, loud enough to piss them the fuck off, and went to bed.

-Ryan’s POV-

I never told Brendon about how the house was still mine, did I? Ahh…, I guess I’d have to tell him later. But what was I supposed to do there anyways? I noticed the electricity had been shut off since no one was paying any bills. The second I walked in I felt alone and cold. I just wanted to die, but at the same time I didn’t. What I really wanted was Brendon.

I went up to my old room, my old sanctuary. The only place I ever felt remotely safe before I was with Brendon. Memories of myself hiding under the blankets pretending to sleep when my father came home sunk in. I knew I wouldn’t sleep tonight. I desperately needed someone with me. I needed Brendon.

I sat down and unpacked my stuff, putting it all away. I let out a sigh of despair and decided I shouldn’t sit down and idly think about this. It would get to my head. So, I left my room and went into my father’s old room.

The second I walked in, I could smell the death, the alcohol that poisoned him. I felt dead, too. I never really paid attention to his room before. I never really went in there. I noticed a few pictures of myself when I was younger on the dresser.

“I love you, too, Dad.” I whispered to myself. A part of me missed him, in a way. I wasn’t sure why. Years of mental and physical abuse should have taught me otherwise. I guess I really was just stupid. I had nothing better to do, so I started digging through his shit, eventually finding a notebook, similar to my own. I examined it for a bit and realized it was a journal. My father’s journal. Was I ready to read something like this? I wasn’t sure, but I opened it anyways. There was only one entry.

“Dear Ryan,” it read, “I’m sorry. I got fired, again, because of alcohol. I can’t do this to you anymore. Sometimes, I wake up remembering vague things like hurting you, causing you harm. I don’t mean to do it, but it just happens. I drink and drink because of work, and then I drink so more because I realize how pathetic I’m being. I can’t stop myself, anymore. The only way to protect you is to just disappear. I really do love you. I wish you could know that, more than anything. Love, Your father”

That’s when the fucking Niagara Falls came pouring out of my eyes. I couldn’t stop. This was all too much to take in. All these years spent hating him, but he didn’t hate me at all. He just wanted me to be happy. Was it suicide to save me from himself? I cried for hours, forgetting to eat, forgetting everything else. I even started forgetting Brendon. For the first time in my life ever since I was a child, I wanted my father to come home.

-Brendon’s POV-

It was getting late, and I was still curled up on my bed, hugging my knees to my chest, waiting to die. Waiting for something to happen. All I could think about was Ryan. Every bad thing imaginable that could happen to him ran through my mind. I was losing it.

It was much later, around 11:30. My parents were asleep, and I was determined to make sure he was somewhat stable. I needed him to be. Luckily, my parents were heavy sleepers, so leaving the house was easy. Starting the car was what made me nervous. I didn’t care, anymore. I knew they hated me, so why not just push it further? I put the key in the ignition and started up the engine. I was nearly 10 miles over the speed limit as I rushed to Ryan’s house.

The second I got there and out of the car, I was running with all my might. The front door was unlocked, so I didn’t even bother knocking. I swung the door open and hunted the place for Ryan’s presence. It was way too dark to see, so I stumbled around in the blackness for a while, but as I was touching the things around me to keep myself from knocking into things, my hands landed on a flashlight. What luck!

I turned it on and found the stairs, quickly making my way up them to find Ryan. “RYAN?” I called out. There was no response. My heart was beating too fast, now. I could hear it pounding in my chest as if it were trying to escape. I expected the worst, so I hoped it would.

That’s when I found him, lying down on the floor, just staring at the wall. His eyes were puffy and red from an excessive amount of crying. My first instinct was that it was over what my mother had said to him. I rushed over and picked him up off the floor.

“Brendon…” He said weakly.

I shushed him. He didn’t need to speak. I just held him there, rocking him back and forth like a child. “I’m here, Ryan. I’m here.” I just held him for a while when my foot hit something on the floor. I followed it with the flashlight, which revealed a blue spiral notebook.

“What’s this?” I asked, but Ryan didn’t say anything, so I picked it up and began to read. It almost seemed like a goodbye letter from his father. I now understood why Ryan was so upset. I remembered the night he came over, crying like a madman over everything his father had done to him. I was somewhat glad the man was dead. Now that I read this, things seemed different. I hugged Ryan tighter and rocked him harder. His arms were wrapped around my shoulders, thankful that I was there.