Speechless

Days had passed, and nothing changed. I was still silent Ryan, writing things down in a notebook just to communicate with others. I wanted to speak so badly, though. Every part of my being was screaming at me to just say something, anything at all. Nothing was ever said, anyways.

Today was July 4th. Finally, I would get to spend a holiday with someone that actually cared. I jolted out of bed with excitement. I didn’t waste any time, immediately showering as quickly as possible. I let my hair down in a flowy, yet attractive, mess of curls and put in a headband to dress it up a bit. I wore a vest and scarf over a button up shirt. I had to look my best, didn’t I?

Adrenaline rushed through me as I ran across my yard and into Brendon’s. What possessed me to become this enthusiastic? It was just a few backyard fireworks, right? No big deal. Yet, inside, this odd, unidentifiable feeling was brewing up a storm of nervousness within my skull.

Brendon was sitting on his porch playing guitar. I couldn’t recognize the tune he was so beautifully playing, though.

“Heeeeyyyy, Ryan!” he said when he saw me, “You look nice today.”

I felt a fire in my face as he said that, and he began to laugh at me. Shit, was I blushing again? “Thanks,” I mouthed at him. He giggled a little bit, again.

“So, what’s the occasion?” he asked, but laughed again when he saw my downtrodden expression. “I’m just teasing. Happy 4th of July!”

I flashed a smile at him, a cheesy fake one, but a smile nonetheless. He suddenly looked away, his eyes becoming distant. I tapped him on the shoulder and gave him a concerned look.

“Oh, nothing. Just thinking, I guess,” he said, but I knew him better than that, so I glared at him. “No, seriously. I’m just thinking.”

I shook my head vigorously. He laughed, but didn’t speak, until I crossed my arms and tapped my foot on the ground very loudly.

“Alright, alright. I was just thinking of ways to get you to speak, is all.”

A sigh escaped my lips, but this time the head shaking was very slow and sad.

“I’m sorry, Ry,” he said.

I went to grab my notebook, but realized I had left it at home. I stomped my feet in frustration, and Brendon looked at me, eyes wide and somewhat alarmed.

“Does it really bother you that much?” he asked.

I shook my head, again. I pulled my pockets out and mouthed out a bunch of random words.

“What are you – oh. Your notebook. I have some paper in the house if you want that instead,” he seemed really frustrated. I wish I knew what was actually going on in his mind sometimes. It pained me to see him so annoyed. And not only was he annoyed, but he was annoyed with me personally. That stung, a lot.

“I didn’t need it, anyways,” I said, without thinking, and instantly covered my mouth with my hands. I could almost feel the pain of using my voice. It was instant torture to my ears.

I noticed Brendon was just staring at me, eyes wide and mouth agape, not knowing what to say. “What?” I asked, since I already spoke anyways, who the fuck cared anymore?

“Y-you’re talking,” he said, “OH MY GOD, YOU’RE TALKING!” he shouted. He jumped up from his seat, dropping his guitar, and tackled me to the floor. We laughed until we nearly rolled off of the stairs in the struggle over who would over power the other. Of course, with me being the little twig I am, Brendon was easily on top, and I was pinned to the floor.

“It sounds more amazing than I could ever have imagined,” he said. I became suddenly aware of the close proximity of our faces. We just stared at each other, waiting for the other to do something, but nothing happened.

Without realizing it, Brendon’s lips were suddenly attached to mine. It was the strangest, yet most amazing feeling in the world. But what was I even thinking? Brendon and me? We were just friends, right? Just two long-lasting seconds later, Brendon was immediately off of me, leaving me bewildered and glued to the floor.

“That was um…” he trailed off, not knowing what to say. “That didn’t happen,” he said.

Confusion hit me like a lightning bolt. “Um…..” was all I could spit out. I still wasn’t used to instantaneously throwing words out. I usually thought about them for a moment and wrote them all down, but now I didn’t have to. Trying to come up with words to say that quickly was more difficult than most people realized because most people have done it all their lives. I was just getting started.

The entire day held an awkward air about it. Brendon talked, and I decided not to, as usual, but I didn’t write anything down either. It was pure mental silence. Not only was I speechless, but I was thoughtless. My mind was still processing what had happened on the porch that morning, unsuccessfully.

“Hey…” he said, “It’s almost time to light the fireworks.” I could sense disappointment in his voice, like the day hadn’t gone anywhere near as he had planned it to. I felt the same way, but I tried to hide it as much as possible. I didn’t want him feeling like that any more than he already did.

We set up the display together, still not talking. My throat was telling me to scream bloody murder to break the silence, but I fought it off with all of my might. Brendon could easily sense the struggle, but didn’t say anything.

“Okay, well, here goes nothing,” he said. His fingers skillfully swiped a match against the matchbox and lit the first firework. He sprinted away with extreme speed as it began to spark. That painful squeal that made you cringe every time you heard it went off instantly, and my ears were writhing in pain. “Oops. Guess I picked the wrong one,” he said, laughing a bit at my overreaction.

His mother seemed to be enjoying it though. “I love the loud ones,” she said. I shot her a “what the fuck” look, and she just shrugged it off as Brendon laughed.

The next half hour was filled with sparks and colors in magical displays I had never seen before. Truth be told, I never celebrated 4th of July. My dad never took me as a child to see the big shows and never bought the do-it-yourself firework kits either. The sights were beautiful, and I never wanted it to end.

“You act like you’ve never seen fireworks before,” he said, smirking at me.

“Actually, I haven’t,” I said, “My dad never cared for this holiday.”

“SERIOUSLY? Aw, man! I wish I had taken you to see some REAL fireworks, instead,” he cried in disappointment, only causing me to go into a giggle fit. “Whaaattt? Why are you laughing?”

“Because I don’t care about any of that. I just wanted to spend the day with you.” Without thinking, I walked over to him and pulled him into a slightly romantic embrace. He didn’t hesitate to hug me back; in fact, he seemed to be enjoying it. I pulled back a few inches and looked him in the eyes with fiery desire. Suddenly, I found myself leaning in for a kiss, and he didn’t deny me.

Our lips pealed open, allowing our tongues to fight a seemingly never-ending battle for dominance. His lips were soft, tender, and oh-so sweet. I had never felt more alive in my life. I realized, my first real kiss ever had been with a guy, and I wasn’t even sure about being gay, yet I didn’t care. I just wanted Brendon. No one but Brendon.