Coming Out the Rabbit Hole

The wind bit through his skin. His hands were numb, his face was numb, his lungs were tingling. A snake was coiling around them, constricting. He inhaled sharply and a knife of cold air dove down his throat. He coughed. Brendon smoothed a hand on his back.

“Breathe, Ryan.”

Ryan tried again, a little slower this time. It shook his entire body. Brendon gripped his shoulders as the shaking turned to sobbing, whispering little “okays” into his ear. Ryan rested his elbows on knees, and let his head fall into his hands.

They were on a bench. It was night, it was below freezing, and they were sitting on a bench in the middle of a park. Which park, Brendon couldn’t remember. He only remembered chasing after Ryan the second he broke away.

“Why can’t we go back?” Ryan cried. Brendon sighed.

“Because I’ve changed. You’ve changed. Everything’s changed.”

“But still, why can’t we go back?”

Brendon took a pause, the echo of Ryan’s words ringing in his ears. “Because we’ve come so far,” he said, slowly, “and the path we followed to get here is lost.”

Ryan mumbled, “We can’t retrace our steps.”

Brendon nodded his head, but chose not to respond. Ryan always understood metaphors better than reality. Ryan sucked in a breath. “The path is lost, and the path has ended. I’m stuck here,” he said. The sobbing picked up again.

“We have to stop lying to ourselves. We can’t go on like this.”

“What do you mean?”

“Ryan, it’s over.”

Brendon hadn’t meant for the words to come out so harsh. They were supposed to be soft and soothing. Just like the night – a dinner at a café and a stroll around the city. Breaking it to Ryan in the kindest way he knew how. Looking back, maybe all the comfort just made the fall worse.

It had been so scripted. The way Brendon had been holding Ryan’s hand. The way he stopped, slowly. The way he looked around and turned to face Ryan. The way he kissed him. Gentle. The way he put a hand up to his face and said, “You are so damn beautiful. That’s why it hurts me so much to say this.”

“Say what, Bren?”

Ryan broke. Broke away and broke down. Brendon saw it frame by frame. The way he ripped his hand from Brendon’s. Brendon remembered looking down and seeing that he was running – not knowing when he had ever started.

Brendon looked down at Ryan, a thought dawning on him. He whispered, “Ryan… how long has it been since you last cried?”

A sob. “A few years, I think.”

“Oh, god. Ryan.”

“Like I can fucking help it, Brendon,” he spat. Ryan had to grow up early. He had to raise himself. He had to dodge the punches of an intoxicated father and then move him to a couch when he passed out. Brendon had been shielded by his parents. He had been innocent. Ryan didn’t have that fortune.

“You never had to grow up,” Ryan said. “I had to grow up when my mom left. You never had to grow up. You had parents. You had love.”

“I had suffocation.”

“You had protection.”

“I had rejection.”

"I had invisibility with a few bruises.”

“I had parents that threw me out after they found out.”

“My father died after telling me that I deserved to die.”

“These tears aren’t just about me, are they?”

And with that, Ryan broke into a new wave of crying. He leaned over, trying to tuck his head into Brendon’s chest. Brendon moved his arm and allowed it. A few minutes passed, just Brendon holding him through his tears. When they settled, Ryan spoke. Quietly, the voice of a mouse.

“I remember when we used to stay up late, my head in your lap. It would be us and the sound of the cars moving outside. You’d play with my hair while I told you about my Wonderland. Whatever happened to that, Bren?”

Brendon stroked a strand of his hair.

“You fell down the rabbit hole.”

Ryan turned reminiscent. Brendon had always been so hyper, so random, so immature. So happy and innocent. “I also remember,” he said, “the times you would sneak me out of my apartment at three a.m. Like we were teenagers avoiding curfews. You’d drive me down to the river and we’d sit on the hood of your car, drinking Capri Sun and kissing.”

Brendon laughed, softly. “I miss those days.”

Looking back on it, perhaps Brendon had always been the most mature. Recognizing Ryan’s lack for enjoying life. Brendon was trying to give him the years he never had.

“I always thought, I was the adult one in the relationship. But looking at it now, it was always you.”

“No, Ryan. You are the adult. You’re just regressing. You’re hiding in your mind again.”

Ryan sniffled. “You know me too well.”

Brendon hesitated. “Hardly. We’ve dated for three years, and yet I think I’ve only scratched the surface of the labyrinth that is your mind. You’ve got such a beautiful mind. All those lyrics on your walls.”

Ryan started to cry again. “Brendon, god, I love you.” Ryan felt Brendon bury his head on his other shoulder.

“That’s the first time you’ve ever meant it.” The words came out muffled, and Ryan realized that he was crying.

“What? Bren. I love you so much, it’s ridiculous. You’re the sun and I’m the moon. We need each other. How could you doubt my love?”

“I never doubted your love. I doubted that you knew how to love. You’re so damaged, Ryan, and I just wanted to fix you.”

They held on to each other. There was silence.

“Does it really have to end?” Ryan said.

“Yes,” was Brendon’s answer. It was soft, not sudden. As if Brendon was making himself admit it as well. Everything was ending. They were ending. Ryan clung onto Brendon tighter, not wanting to let the moment go. Not wanting to let Brendon go.

“Are you sure?” was his hushed reply.

“Yes,” Brendon said, even quieter. Ryan blinked, tears filling his eyes. He felt one go cold as it fell down his cheek. He didn’t want this, he didn’t want this to end. He loved Brendon, why didn’t Brendon see that? Ryan felt himself shaking, breaking. He needed to flee. He needed to get away from this.

“I – I need to go,” he stuttered, and darted. It was cold, needles piercing him as he ran. He heard calls.

“Ryan! RYAN! Wait!”

He shook his head and ran faster. His world was spinning, breaking. Ryan saw his Wonderland dissolve before his eyes. Everything he knew was coming to a close. He didn’t know where he would start again. All he knew was to keep running. He ran until his legs were numb, and then he ran more. He ran down an alley and saw his feet fly up on the ice.

The first thing Ryan saw when he opened his eyes was the IV drip. The second thing he saw was Brendon, nearly crying, over him.

“Oh, oh god, you’re awake. I’d hug you, but I’m afraid of breaking you.”

Ryan tried to lift his head. A searing pain cut through the back of his skull. He whimpered.

“They – you. You slipped. On the ice. Your skull cracked open. Not a lot, but. There was blood.” Ryan could hear Brendon gag. “They, uh. They had to cut your hair. It’s short again.”

Ryan chuckled a little. When he spoke, his voice was groggy. “So, I look like I’m from the Beatles again?”

It was Brendon’s turn to laugh. “You’ve always looked like you were from the Beatles.”

There was a silence. Another silence, Ryan noted. All the silences had become so comfortable with Brendon. He broke it with an exhale.

“So. This is the end.”

“It doesn’t have to be,” Brendon mumbled. It was Ryan’s turn to be mature.

“I think it does. For both our sake’s. I need to figure myself out, and you need someone who can love you properly.”

Brendon sighed. A content sigh.

“I’ll watch you until you’re healed. And then, I think, we’ll go our separate ways.”

“That sounds – that sounds good,” Ryan said. He felt himself smile. It felt so out of body, the realization that he was smiling. It had been a while, hadn’t it? He never knew how suppressed he was keeping himself.

Brendon smiled back at him, that million-watt smile. He looked truly happy. And suddenly, Ryan knew he was doing the right thing. Maybe for the first time in his life.