In One Single Moment Your Whole Life Can Turn Around

1

“Where’s Ryan?” I ask, looking around in the rather large classroom for our small class group.

There’s only six of us in the group, so when one of us is missing, it immediately gets noticed. Mostly it’s Ryan who’s too late or not showing up at all. But for some reason, none of the teachers say something about it. When Ryan enters the class room, being awfully late, the teachers just give him a smile and nod as if they know the mystery behind this boy. I wish I knew as well.

Jon shrugs his shoulders at my question, as usual. No one ever knows where Ryan is or why he is practically always late.

“Good morning, class,” Mrs. Hendricks says as she enters the room. “Hayley and Patrick, you can stop eating each other’s face now. This is English class, not sex education,” she adds, sending the two teenagers sitting behind me a stern look. I look at Patrick, whose face has coloured a dark shade of red and chuckle softly, shaking my head in amusement at the comment they just got.

“Okay, let’s all start by sitting down next to your partner for your group assignment, if you aren’t already,” Mrs. Hendricks starts, clasping her hands together. “You can work on your project with your partner during the next hour and after that, we’ll continue our lesson about poetry.”

Oh great. Now that we can work on our project during the lesson, Ryan doesn’t show up. Just perfect. Ryan and I haven’t done anything for the project so far and we have to hand it in next week already. It’s not that I don’t want to work on it, but it’s a group assignment, so I’m not supposed to do this on my own. I’ve asked already Ryan a fair few times when he can get together with me to work on it, but his answer is always the same: “Not now, I’m too busy.” I’m really curious of what the story behind this kid is. He looks normal, acts normal and such, except for always being late and never having time for anything. The guys, Hayley and I have asked him to go out with us already several times, but he claims that he never has the time for that either.

“Mrs?” I ask, lifting my hand up in the air to get my teacher’s attention.

“Yes, Brendon?” she replies, looking at me.

“Ryan is not here and he’s my partner for the group work. What am I supposed to do now?” I question, hoping that she will come up with a solution. I am not going to do this on my own. It’s too much work for one person, so I really need Ryan’s help.

Mrs. Hendricks lets her gaze travel over the five present pupils in her class and then she nods.

“I see… erm… try to work on your own for a little while, Brendon. Ryan might show up in a few minutes,” she eventually tells me, her eyes resting on me again.

I sigh deeply out of pure frustration, but nod anyway because there’s nothing I can do about this. I can’t just sit here, doing nothing anyway, that would be downright boring and dumb. I take the completely oversized and ancient English course book we had to buy at the beginning of the year out of my bag and drop it on my desk with a loud thud. Hooray for teamwork!

In the meantime, everyone else has already started working on their task. Or chatting with each other about subjects that are all but related to their project is a better description of what they’re doing, I think.

After five minutes of frustrated sighing and randomly reading some texts in my book, it looks like the Gods in the sky have received my mental groaning, because the door of the classroom opens and Ryan enters the room. The lanky figure locks eyes with our teacher as if he’s sending her a mental message that only she can know about and then he mutters “Sorry for being later.” And of course, as usual, the teacher just nods understandingly; making me wonder what the hell there is to understand. If it had been me or one of the others being late, I’m sure we would have gotten a never ending preach for it. I must know what’s so special about Ryan that he can pull this off time after time.

“It’s fine, just sit down next to Brendon. You can work on your project during this hour,” Mrs. Hendricks says, nodding towards the empty seat next to me.

“Where were you?” I question, looking him straight into the eye. He looks really tired. “It’s already the third time this week you’ve been late,” I add, resting my hand on his shoulder to let him know that he can talk to me about it, whatever it is that causes him to be late all the time.

“I just had to take care of something at home, that’s all. Nothing to worry about,” he answers, sending me a small, reassuring smile. His smile soon disappears, though when he has to yawn.

“Dude, when was the last time you had some good night rest?” I then ask, cocking an eyebrow. He’s got big, grey bags underneath his eyes, telling me that it must have been ages ago. Ryan just shrugs his shoulders in response and bends down to take his course book out of his bag.

“Let’s start on this. We still have a lot of work ahead of us,” he says matter-of-factly, opening his book. “I suggest we start with giving a short introduction of why we chose this subject,” he continues, taking a piece of paper and his pencil case as well.

Okay, so he doesn’t want to talk, got the message loud and clear! I’m just a bit worried about him. He’s handsome, but right now, he really doesn’t look that good, if I have to be honest.

“Ryan…” I sigh and bit my lower lip, thinking of what I could say. I don’t want to look too nosy, but I want to be a good friend as well and be there for him in case he needs me. “If there’s anything you want to talk about, you know I’m here to listen, right?” I tell him. Ryan cracks another small smile and nods.

“Yeah, I know Brendon. But you don’t have to worry, I’m perfectly fine,” he replies, patting the back of my hand. “Can we start working now? If we work really hard, we might be able to finish this now, so we won’t have to get together for it later.”

“Sure.” I nod and grab a pen of my own to start writing.

***

“Hey, Ryan," I start, swinging my arm around the taller boy’s shoulder. “Do you have some time to finish our English assignment after school? If we work on it for another hour or maybe two, we’ll be finished,” I say, hoping that he can make it because I really want this task to be done and over with.

“Sorry, I got things to do at home after school,” Ryan answers, giving me an apologetic look. “What if we work on it during lunch hour today and then again during lunch hour tomorrow?” he suggests, sitting down on one of the many wooden benches on the playground of our school. “I really, really don’t have any time to do this after school,” he adds, lifting his feet up to sit cross-legged on the bench.

“You never have time?” I question confusedly.

That would be quite odd, wouldn’t it? I mean, he’s a seventeen-year-old boy, he must have some free time. I can understand if he has to do some chores around the house from time to time, but he can’t be busy the entire time.

“Never,” he simply answers, shaking his head.

“But… why? You’re a teenager. Besides work for school and some random chores around the house you’ve got nothing else to do. Unless you have a part-time job, do you?” I wonder out loud, still beyond confused.

“No, I don’t have a job,” he tells me and then he stares at me for a short while, as if he’s thinking what he should or shouldn’t tell me. “I just have a very busy life at home, that’s all. Nothing special,” he eventually says. Okay, so he went for the ‘shouldn’t’. What’s so special that he has to hide it for me? I thought we were friends…

“So, we’ll do it during lunch?” Ryan questions, changing the subject. “Please?”

“Yeah, fine. I don’t think I have another choice,” I answer, shrugging my shoulders. He could give me at least a little bit more information about what is going on with him. It’s not like I would tell the entire school if it’s something really personal. I can keep that big mouth of mine shut if I have to.

“Thank you, Brendon.” Ryan sends me an appreciating smile and pats my knee.

“No problem,” I reply with a smile and then we fall into a silence again.

Halfway through our little break, Ryan’s cellphone goes off in his pocket, making a loud, irritating noise. A nearby teacher hears it and at first, I thought she was going to say something about it because the use of cellphones isn’t allowed at our school, but when she sees it’s Ryan, she just turns around as if she hadn’t heard or seen a thing. Okay, I really must find out what to do to be able to enjoy such privileges as Ryan does, because from what I get to see, it only has advantages.

Ryan looks at the tiny, flickering screen of his cellphone and then he picks up, stopping the annoying ringtone. He holds the cellphone close to his ear and then he hops off of the bench we’re sitting on, walking away from me, probably so I can’t hear what the conversation’s about. I try to hear what he’s saying, though, but he’s standing too far away, so I don’t have a damn clue what the phone call is about. When the school bell rings, indicating the end of the short break, Ryan is still talking to the person on his cellphone, so I just step up from the bench and make my way to the next class on my own.

Ryan doesn’t return later during our History class. Our plans of working on our assignment during lunch seem to be disappearing like snow in the summer. What could be so important that he has to leave during the day? Maybe there’s something wrong with his parents or so. But if there is, why wouldn’t he tell us? It’s nothing to be ashamed of, is it?

“Has Ryan gone missing again?” Spencer asks me when I plop down on the chair next to him during lunch.

“Yeah, he got a phone call during the first break and I haven’t seen him since then,” I answer and sigh deeply. “We were going to work on our English assignment now, but I suppose that won’t be happening,” I add, throwing my bright yellow lunchbox on the table. “I really want to know what’s up with that guy. He can do practically whatever he wants, without being punished for it. If we would behave the exact same way as he does, we would get detentions to no end. It’s not fair,” I say and take a big bite from the sandwich that my mom prepared for me this morning. Mmm… chocolate spread.

“I don’t know, Bren,” Spencer replies, lifting his shoulders. “Maybe there’s something not right with him. I don’t really care, actually. Whatever it is, it’s his business. He’s a nice guy, that’s all that matters to me,” he tells me, smiling. “If he doesn’t want to tell us what is going on, then so be it. It’s his life, not ours.”

“Since when are you so interested in him? Guy crush?” Jon, who is sitting at the opposite side of the table, questions with a big grin.

I’m sure my neck and face are turning bright red at Jon’s words. Patrick and Hayley, who are sitting at the same table as well –Hayley on Patrick’s lap-, look at me with huge interest and smile widely. Why did Jon have to talk so loud? Has he never heard of discretion?

“Jon,” I mutter, pulling the hood of my hoodie over my head which by now is as read as a tomato. I wish my hoodie would work as an invisibility cloak because this is so embarrassing. “This is not the time and place to discuss my love life, okay?” I say, giving him a pleading look. Everyone in my class group already knows I’m gay and they’re totally fine and comfortable with that, but I don’t want to talk about my potential crushes on guys with them.

“Do you like Ryan?” Hayley asks, tugging a strand of bright orange hair behind her right ear. She gives me a small, reassuring smile that tells me that there would be nothing wrong with it. “You two would make a cute couple,” she adds.

“Erm… I don’t know,” I answer, looking down at my hands. Why are my friends so nosy? Okay, maybe I like Ryan a little bit, it’s true, but what’s the big deal about that? He’s probably not gay anyway.

“I’ll take that as a yes.” Patrick smiles and sends me a wink.

“Do you think he’s gay?” Spencer wonders out loud, looking at me. How am I supposed to know that? I’ve only seen him at school and maybe he acts completely different when he’s not at school, so I can’t really guess if he’s gay or not.

“I don’t know,” I reply, rolling my eyes. “Can we stop the cross-examination now?” I quickly ask, before any of them has the chance to say something else.

“Oh, come on, Brendon. You’re always like this too when one of us has a crush. I can clearly remember the never ending questions coming from you when I told you I liked Trick,” Hayley states and, damn, why does she always have to be right? Girls…

“Yeah, we’re not going to let you walk away that easily,” Jon adds, wriggling his eyebrows. “Tell us, what does your gaydar say about Ryan Ross? Is he or isn’t he gay?” he questions, lightly tilting his head to the side. Urgh, I’m not going to be able so escape from this, am I?

“Brendon!” a familiar voice calls. Ryan! Thank God! I think he just might have saved me from my friends. “I was looking for you. Can we work on our English assignment now?” he asks, leaning on the large table. “We still have half an hour.”

“Yeah, that would be great,” I answer, nodding. “Let’s go,” I quickly add, gathering all of my things and standing up. “See you guys later.”

“Bye, Brendon. And Ryan,” they all murmur, clearly disappointed that they no longer can question me about liking Ryan. They’ll probably continue later, though.

“Bye.” Ryan smiles, giving them a small wave. Ryan has never fitted into the group as good as all the others have. Not that we don’t accept him or anything. He’s just not here half of the time, so it’s hard to get as close to him as I am with the others of my cosy little class group.

“Why are you covering your head with your hood?” Ryan asks as we’re making our way to an empty classroom. “You look kind of silly like that,” he says. “But cute nonetheless.” He turns his face towards me and winks.

“Ryan Ross, are you flirting with me?” I question, cocking an eyebrow at this sudden, unexpected behaviour. Not that I mind it, I think it’s rather interesting to be honest.

“Who knows,” he answers, opening the door of an empty classroom for me. “After you.” He smiles, pressing his hand against the small of my back and pushing me inside the room.

***

“So how was your date with Ryan?” Spencer questions as me, him and Jon are walking home together. The three of us live in the same street, only ten minutes away from school so this is our daily routine.

“We worked on an assignment together, it’s not a date, Smith,” I reply, giving him a playful shove in the side. “But… I think he flirted with me for a second,” I add, not able to keep myself from smiling. “He said I looked cute.”

“Awww, sweet. He must like our little Brenny boy,” Jon says, ruffling his hand through my hair, completely messing it up. I push him away, still smiling. “I never really thought of him as a gay guy, though,” he states. “But then again, we never get to see him besides school and even then we barely see him, so I don’t have a lot of things to base that conclusion on. Whatever.”

“Are you going to ask him on a date?” Spencer asks, wriggling his eyebrows. “If he ever has the time for it, that is.”

“I’m not,” I quickly reply, shaking my head. “Not yet anyway. I first want to be sure he’s into guys as well. I don’t want to look like a complete fool by asking him out if he doesn’t like guys, you know,” I explain. That already happened once and I don’t want it to happen twice. It’s was more than embarrassing, I can assure you.

“Yeah, that can get a little nasty.” Jon nods and then he bursts out into a roaring fit of laughter. Oh great, I knew I shouldn’t have brought up the famous Jordan-incident.

“Fuck you, Jon,” I scowl and then I jump on his back, tackling him to the soft grass underneath us.

We fight with each other for a little while, neither of us really wanting to hurt the other one for real. We just do this for fun from time to time and it works really well against stress as well as a matter of fact. When we stop our ‘fight’, mine and Jon’s faces are bright red and our breathing heavy from the physical effort. We chuckle softly and then we help each other back up. That felt good.

“Are you little boys done playing in the dirt?” Spencer questions, standing a few feet away from us, his arms crossed in front of his chest.

“Awww, is little Spencer jealous because he couldn’t fight with the big boys?” I get back at him and stick my tongue out.

“Yeah, sure,” Spencer shrugs in response, shaking his head. “You know I could take you anywhere at anytime,” he adds, his words followed by a growl.

“Come on, bring it then,” I reply, rubbing the palms of my hands against one another. “I can take ten Spencers if I have to.”

“Yeaaaah, sure. You’ll have to do that another time, though. I want to go home, my mom is making lasagne for dinner and I don’t want to miss that for anything in the world.”

“Wuss!” Jon calls and then he punches Spencer’s shoulder.

“Whatever,” Spencer mutters and starts walking. “You two can stick around here and play a bit more, but I’m going home.”

“Ah come on, Spence, I was just messing around a bit,” Jon says, grabbing Spencer by the wrist to stop him from walking away.

“I know, and I just want to go home and have dinner. I’m hungry,” Spencer replies, smiling so we know that he’s not pissed at us.

“Okay, let’s go then,” I butt in, hooking my left arm around Jon’s and my other one around Spencer’s arm. Jon and Spencer both roll their eyes at me and pull their arms away again.

“We’re not gay, thankyouverymuch. You can do that with your precious Ryan, but not with us,” Jon says, poking my side. I poke him back, then I poke Spencer as well and until I’m home the three of us have a random little poke fight. I love those two guys to no end. They’re honestly the best friends anyone could ever imagine.

***

“Is your boyfriend not coming to school today?” Jon asks, turning his chair around and leaning his elbows on my desk.

They’re never going to stop teasing me about the fact that I like Ryan, are they?

“He’s not my boyfriend and I have no idea if he’s going to show up or not. I don’t think anyone knows that,” I answer, rolling my eyes. “I hope he does, because we’re still not done with our assignment.”

“Talking about me?” Ryan’s voice asks and when I look to the right, I can see him standing next to my desk.

My face goes bright red. Great, did he really have to hear that? I hope he didn’t hear the boyfriend comment, because that would be beyond embarrassing.

“Yeah… just wondering where you were, that’s all,” I answer, avoiding his look. What if he heard it?

“I was standing outside talking to our English teacher, silly,” Ryan says, playfully slapping the back of my head. “I just wanted to apologize again for being late in her class yesterday,” he explains as he sits down next to me.

“You look like you’ve had some decent night rest,” I state after a short silence and send him a small smile. He looks cute. The bags underneath his eyes are still there, but they’re less heavy than they were yesterday.

“I suppose that’s a compliment?” he wonders out loud with a smirk playing on his lips.

“It is. You look really good. And that smile definitely helps as well,” I reply, winking. I should test the waters first before diving into it for real, shouldn’t I?

“Thanks, I could say the same thing about you,” he says, his smile widening. “Pretty boy.”

I want to say something in reply, but before I get the chance to do that, our Biology teacher, Mr. Adams, enters the stinky classroom and the six of us stop talking. Mr. Adams is one of the most strict teachers walking around in this school and I hate him to no end. He must be more than a hundred years old, judging by his looks and the clothes he’s wearing and he stinks. Really, really bad. I suppose he spent too much time in his precious Biology classroom that smells like rotten food and dead animals. I can honestly tell you that I am scared of this man and I’m sure that the others are as well.

“Someone should give him a mint for his bad breath, I can smell it from here,” Ryan whispers and then he wrinkles his nose to prove his point. I nod in agreement, laughing softly.

“And a bar of soap,” I add, waving my hand in front of my nose as if I’m trying to get rid of the stinking air around us. If only I could. “Thank God you smell so good. You’re like an air freshener.” I chuckle, bending a bit closer to Ryan, deeply inhaling his scent. He really smells good.

“You’re weird.” Ryan laughs, his entire face brightening as he does that. I think I’m developing a major crush on him now, because that smile made my heart leap into my throat. He’s so damn adorable. “But I like that.”

“Ross and Urie, keep it quiet or I’ll give you both a detention,” Mr. Adams growls, narrowing his eyes as he looks at us. I let out a long sigh of frustration at this.

Why do teachers always ruin the fun? They’re made out of pure evil, I swear.

“Don’t pout like that,” Ryan whispers, laying his hand on top of mine, giving it a gentle squeeze. “We can talk later,” he adds, smiling.

“I thought I told you to shut up,” Mr. Adams starts, standing in front of us, his hands resting on his hips. “You just got yourself a detention, Ross,” he adds and then he turns around again.

Fuck, that is so unfair! Ryan didn’t do anything wrong. He was just being nice to me.

“Sir, you can’t do that!” Ryan protests, giving Mr. Adams a pleading look. “Please. You know I can’t stay an extra hour at school. I have to be at home,” he tells him, his face radiating nothing but pure desperateness. “Don’t do this to me. Please. I have my obligations at home.”

“I’m sorry. Rules are rules, Mr. Ross. I expect you to be here tomorrow, after school. If you don’t show up, you’ll have detention for the rest of the week, understood?”

Ryan bows his head and nods in defeat.

“Yes, sir,” he mutters and a split second later, I can see a teardrop falling down onto the piece of paper that’s lying in front of him, on his desk.

Poor guy. Something really bad must be going on in his life if he gets so upset about this. Detentions are part of school life. I’ve had a few myself and they’re really nod that bad. Just annoying, that’s all, but certainly nothing to cry over. I put my hand just above his knee and pat it, trying to make him feel a bit better. I sigh deeply and then I scrape all of my courage together.

“You’re an asshole!” I yell through the class. “Ryan didn’t deserve that detention,” I say, glaring at Mr. Adams.

“You want a detention too? Fine that’s settled.” Is all Mr. Adams says to this.

I smile inwardly. Sweet, just what I was aiming for. I can’t let Ryan go to that detention on his own, can I? That would be mean.