The Perfect Foundation

Brendon curled up into a ball, trying, willing himself to breathe. Control. He needed to just.

Get back.

Control.

He squeezed his eyes shut, focussing only on breathing in through his nose, out through his mouth. He felt sick. His head was whirling like a carousel. He was going to vomit. With a massive effort he pulled himself off the stairs and stumbled into the bathroom blindly, flailing for the toilet seat as all of nothing erupted from his stomach and he wretched violently. After a few moments he slid down the side of the bowl and let his head rest against the porcelain, breathing slowly and deeply, his heart rate gradually evening out as he began to feel more normal again.

Pulling himself carefully to his feet and flushing he had no other thought than to make it back to his room. He felt shaken and prayed that no one - especially Jared - had been disturbed by his upset stomach. He wasn't quite sure what he would do if that happened. He wasn't entirely sure if he could be held responsible for his reaction if it did happen.

His mind was reeling. What? Who? Was Jared presumably involved as it was his room or was something else going on here?

Who was being abused and who was doing the abusing?

Unless this was some really sick joke...or some seriously weird role play...

He probably wasn't being very quiet but hell! He pushed open the door to his and Ryan's room, greeted with the boy's heavier breathing than he was used to. At the fair they all had slept lightly - kept awake by nightmares, bunched together in the cart like sardines for warmth and comfort. Since they'd been in Gerard's house everyone had mentally and physically began to relax. No one - not even him - had suspected abuse would happen here. How wrong they'd been.

It did occur to Brendon he was overreacting - hearing things that weren't there, jumping to conclusions etc etc. He thought about his, standing in the doorway to their 'sanctuary' and watching Ryan's chest rise and fall.

Expand and contract. Surely, calmly, peacefully.

He knew the implications of his discovery.

And there was no doubt in his mind that what he'd heard from Jared's room was sexual abuse. He'd heard it every day for years - from himself, from others - he'd done it to his friends under orders. If there was one thing he would be able to identify in every language, in any continent, at any point in his life - it was unwanted sexual behaviour.

He didn't want to interrupt Ryan's present. He didn't want to open a can of worms with a whole load of shit from the past. He didn't want to wake him with it yet. He sighed and blinked back tears. It could wait til later. He trooped across to the bed and slid in beside his best friend, who automatically flung an arm across him protectively before relapsing back in soft snores. Brendon felt safer like this and wondered whether he could ever sleep in a bed with anyone else. He knew everything about Ryan. And nothing about Gerard. He hadn't encountered the man until he'd woken up in a strange bed, apparently being given a second chance at his life.

He felt sadness rise up inside him and build up into terrible silent sobbing until Ryan jerked awake, concern in his hazel eyes.

"Bren. What's wrong?! What the fuck? Are you ok?" He pulled the smaller boy onto his chest and stroked his hair soothingly.

A few minutes passed then Brendon pulled away, wiping his face on his shirt and making an awful attempt at a smile.

"You haven't cried like that in a long time."

"Ry..." Was about all he could manage and the other man frowned, reaching out to wipe Brendon's cheek with the pad of his thumb. Brendon closed his eyes and brought himself together with a a breath.

"Someone's...abusing someone in my old room. I heard it. I - I don't know who it is, but - but I heard them! I don't know what to do!"

They stared at each other for a long moment. A look of profound misery flashed across Ryan's face, then he just looked furious.

"You have got to be fucking shitting me."

Brendon laughed half-heatedly.

"I'm sorry I - I had to tell someone."

Ryan looked as though he might punch someone, he was so angry.

"Of course you had to fucking tell someone." He spat, knuckles white from where he was clutching at the bed sheets.

"Ryan. We - I have to - Gerard has to know."

"There's no way it's one of us."

"You - you don't think it's Gerard do you?"

"Absolutely not," He put a hand on Brendon's shoulder. "Don't worry."

"Ok."

"I'll talk to him-."

"No! I want to talk to Gerard."

"Ok. I'll tell Jon then. He's the most level-headed. We don't want finger-pointing and name-calling before we know what's going on."

"It's Jared's room..." Brendon stated, voice barely audible.

"I know. But like I said we need to -."

"Yeah. I know..." Brendon yawned.

"You went for a run?"

"Yeah, then I was -," he flapped a hand, "Taking my shoes off and I heard - yeah."

"Ok. Well. We'll sort it out, alright?"

"Uh huh." The boy nodded dejectedly.

"Think you can sleep a bit more? I'll keep watch."

Brendon thought about it and nodded again, not trusting himself to speak. If Ryan was there, he was safe.

"C'mere." The boy shuffled into his friend's embrace and closed his eyes, taking a deep breath of his familiar scent and the comforting rumble of his heart beat.

"We'll sort it out." Ryan repeated quietly, and with those words Brendon drifted off into slumber.