Status: We'll see
Devil in the Details
006
"Ryan," Jon is shaking him, "Ryan."
Or, is he shaking his head at Ryan?
Oh, oh.
Penny for your thoughts, though Ryan wouldn't offer anything for Jon's. Brown eyes are wide with dissapoint, brow drawn in a frown and jaw relaxing into realisation. Jon, Jon, Jon - and he never did quite as much as Ryan, always had something more to live for. His own Thing.
Ryan only ever had Brendon.
A collectors edition Zippo lighter flickers on in Ryan's heart.
"Ryan," his eyes refocus on Jon, noticing he'd been staring off into the distance of - of the fucking carpark. His back hurts, and abruptly he feels cold, so cold. He fell asleep in the carpark, like he's a fucking sixteen year old again, like dad threw him out and Brendon was out of town and - "Ryan, you didn't... you didn't?"
Jon tries to pull up the arm of his jacket, hands so painfully warm, and Ryan flinches away, hefting his sore body upright and shuffling away, legs poised in front of him. God, he just wants to laugh. Or cry.
"No, no." his voice is unsteady, gritty, dirty, "I wanted to, but I -"
"Jon?"
Spencer.
Oh, blue eyes. Where have you been?
The bus is leaving in ten minutes, he says. We have to go, he says. He watches Ryan the whole time, like he's waiting for him to snap. Like he's an animal in a cage.
He stands up.
Ryan watches the cloud formations from his bunk, the whole way to Ohio.
Or, is he shaking his head at Ryan?
Oh, oh.
Penny for your thoughts, though Ryan wouldn't offer anything for Jon's. Brown eyes are wide with dissapoint, brow drawn in a frown and jaw relaxing into realisation. Jon, Jon, Jon - and he never did quite as much as Ryan, always had something more to live for. His own Thing.
Ryan only ever had Brendon.
A collectors edition Zippo lighter flickers on in Ryan's heart.
"Ryan," his eyes refocus on Jon, noticing he'd been staring off into the distance of - of the fucking carpark. His back hurts, and abruptly he feels cold, so cold. He fell asleep in the carpark, like he's a fucking sixteen year old again, like dad threw him out and Brendon was out of town and - "Ryan, you didn't... you didn't?"
Jon tries to pull up the arm of his jacket, hands so painfully warm, and Ryan flinches away, hefting his sore body upright and shuffling away, legs poised in front of him. God, he just wants to laugh. Or cry.
"No, no." his voice is unsteady, gritty, dirty, "I wanted to, but I -"
"Jon?"
Spencer.
Oh, blue eyes. Where have you been?
The bus is leaving in ten minutes, he says. We have to go, he says. He watches Ryan the whole time, like he's waiting for him to snap. Like he's an animal in a cage.
He stands up.
Ryan watches the cloud formations from his bunk, the whole way to Ohio.