Ryan's Secret
Footsteps
"No, mom! Fuck off!" I shouted, blood still gushing out of my arm.
"Ryan, you swear to me one more time, I won't give you any help whatsoever."
"Fine then, I didn't fucking want you to, anyway!" I wanted to retaliate, but my arms were locked around mom's so I couldn't. But she then decided to drop me and knock me to the floor. And she walked out. The blood just kept flowing out.
Footsteps. They couldn't be mom's. Brendon's. Well, dad's not home for fuckin' ages, man. Brendon's here cause mom told me. Come on, boy. It's not that hard to hurry up.
"Oh my god, Ryan! What's happening?"
"Look in the bath, boy."
I could tell the first thing he saw was the knife.
"Y-you cut?"
A smirk on my face, I said, "Yes, I do. Because of you, of course." Taste of regret. Why? I've got to tell him now.
"Why me?" His eyes not fixed on the blade of the knife anymore.
"Oh, god. It's fucked up, boy."
"You can tell me."
"I fuckin' well can't."
"Ryan! You can! You can trust me, Ry." Yeah, maybe not when it's about you, deary.
"Jeez, alright, alright." Speed, Ryan. Speed. "I'm gay and I like, have feelings for you. 6 years. Kay?" Shit. Shit shit shit. Regret. Stop, Ryan. Stop this now. Stop it. Stop this whole thing now, boy.
"Oh...uh, Ry...I understand completely." No you don't.
"Nah. You have no clue." Cause he has no clue at all.
"2 years, Ryan." Yeah, as if.
"For what?"
"Feelings." Nope. You don't. You sure don't.
"No way." It would not be real. Even if it was, it's just a little thing that'll pass by. Whee, a car crash in the road, lets pass by it. Y'know?
"You feeling alright?"
"I want booze," I need it. "I want to get drunk." I need to.
He said, "No, Ryan." No? What? No?
"Drink with me, Brendon. You know you want to."
"Ryan, you swear to me one more time, I won't give you any help whatsoever."
"Fine then, I didn't fucking want you to, anyway!" I wanted to retaliate, but my arms were locked around mom's so I couldn't. But she then decided to drop me and knock me to the floor. And she walked out. The blood just kept flowing out.
Footsteps. They couldn't be mom's. Brendon's. Well, dad's not home for fuckin' ages, man. Brendon's here cause mom told me. Come on, boy. It's not that hard to hurry up.
"Oh my god, Ryan! What's happening?"
"Look in the bath, boy."
I could tell the first thing he saw was the knife.
"Y-you cut?"
A smirk on my face, I said, "Yes, I do. Because of you, of course." Taste of regret. Why? I've got to tell him now.
"Why me?" His eyes not fixed on the blade of the knife anymore.
"Oh, god. It's fucked up, boy."
"You can tell me."
"I fuckin' well can't."
"Ryan! You can! You can trust me, Ry." Yeah, maybe not when it's about you, deary.
"Jeez, alright, alright." Speed, Ryan. Speed. "I'm gay and I like, have feelings for you. 6 years. Kay?" Shit. Shit shit shit. Regret. Stop, Ryan. Stop this now. Stop it. Stop this whole thing now, boy.
"Oh...uh, Ry...I understand completely." No you don't.
"Nah. You have no clue." Cause he has no clue at all.
"2 years, Ryan." Yeah, as if.
"For what?"
"Feelings." Nope. You don't. You sure don't.
"No way." It would not be real. Even if it was, it's just a little thing that'll pass by. Whee, a car crash in the road, lets pass by it. Y'know?
"You feeling alright?"
"I want booze," I need it. "I want to get drunk." I need to.
He said, "No, Ryan." No? What? No?
"Drink with me, Brendon. You know you want to."