Call Me in November

The boy laid there in the field, snuggled up, waiting. The air around him was warm and the noise was quiet. The birds were chirping and the bees were buzzing and his hoodie had ridden up, the grass tickling the bare skin on his back. The wait itself was difficult and he had already been lying there for at least an hour. His limbs ached and his throat was raspy, but not even that could kill the joy in the pit of his stomach. He had talked to Brendon earlier that day. They planned on meeting up in the field next to Old George's barn, where he currently was, sprawled out on the ground. Over the years, he had imagined what Brendon looked like. The color of his skin, the way his face was, the sound of his voice. He was eager for all of it. He couldn't wait to meet the boy who saved his life, the boy who cared about him enough to talk him down from his highs. The boy who loved him enough to listen as he cried about every reason he deserved to die. For only a moment, he thought he heard footsteps. He rolled onto his stomach and lifted his head, gazing across the barren field. He saw nothing there and slowly, his mind began to drift to the first day...

Dear November, I saw your suicide note. Although you don't know me, I want you to know that I'm here for you. You are never alone no matter your situation. If you need to talk or anything, I'm always here.
Brendon

Ryan blinked at the computer, his eyes scanning over the message displayed. Someone had given him a pen name. November. It was the month he was going to kill himself. He slid the keyboard closer and typed back.

Brendon, I need help.
November

He sighed and sat straight, putting his hands in his pockets. He couldn't keep on waiting, he had to be home soon. The sun was going down and the air was getting cooler and he was feeling betrayed. Where was Brendon? His lip trembled and he buried his head inside the warmth off his hood. Had the boy blew him off? Wiping away a few tears, he began to think back once again...

Dear November, I had a ton of fun talking with you last night. I'm glad you held off from harming yourself. I want to see you live a long and happy life.
Brendon

Brendon, I had fun talking to you too. But why do you care so much? You don't even know me well enough.
November

November, I care because I love you.
Brendon

His head snapped up as a shadow appeared in front of him. It seemed as if slow motion as his eyes trailed up the person standing before him. He saw a thin boy with brown hair and red glasses. His hands were in his pockets and he was smiling.

"B-brendon?" Ryan stuttered out, his fingers gripping the grass around him. "Is that really you?" The boy nods and Ryan stumbles to his feet, biting his lip and staring into Brendon's eyes. "You came." He was still crying and then Brendon was wrapping his arms around his shoulders. "Of course I did, November." Ryan laid his head on the boy's shoulder and let out a small sob. "Hey hey," Brendon lifted the older boy's chin. "Stop that. I'm here, everything is fine." And he held him tighter, sitting them both down on the grass. It was quiet for the most part and every time an owl would hoot or a bee would buzz, Ryan would jump and Brendon would be there to hold him even tighter. And then it was getting dark and the crickets had come out.

"November, I need to tell you something." Brendon whispered. Ryan looked up at the boy and nodded. "I'm not real." It seemed like everything around them had stopped and Ryan was sitting up. "What?" Brendon was grasping at the boy, begging him to calm down, to sit on his lap. Ryan fell back down, crying and searching for Brendon's hands. "I'm right here, shh. It's o.k."

“I can’t live without you.” He cried, his fingers gripping the younger boy’s shirt. They sat there, Ryan in Brendon’s lap. “You’re going to have to try.” There was a moment of silence and Ryan buried his head into the other boy’s neck. “No…you have to be real,” tears were running down his cheeks. “You have to!” His voice was wavering and he was choking on his own breath. “Ryan,” Brendon tugged the crying boy closer. “I am your imagination. I was made by your mind to help you get through.” The older boy was sobbing and shaking his head and thrashing his legs. “But you’ve made it and now you have to let me go, Ryan.” The older boy struggled to get out of his grasp, off of his lap, away from him. "How do you know my real name?" He demanded, pulling his arms and trying to get free. "You have to understand, I am in your mind. I know everything about you," he brushed Ryan's hair out of his face. "Hell, I am you." And the sobbing boy collapsed onto Brendon, banging his fists on his chest. "You lied to me! You don't love me.." Brendon grabbed the boy's wrists and tugged him to his chest, wrapping his arms around him, trying to calm him. "I do love you," he whispered. "You are me and I am you and you love yourself. You have self esteem and happiness." Ryan was breathing slowly now. "That's all I wanted. I saved you, Ryan."

He looked down, away, and then he kissed Brendon. Slow and passionate and he didn't even care as their teeth clashed together. He sobbed into the kiss, holding onto him and shaking as Brendon ran his fingers down his spine. They parted and the younger boy stood. Ryan sat still and watched as Brendon walked away. He stared after him, noticing the way the sun set reflected down on him. As the boy disappeared for the the last time, Ryan felt a wave of reassurance wash over him and he smiled because he was finally happy.