Gifts

Ryan woke up, quite unpleasantly, to Pete sitting on his stomach. He had turned on the TV and was eating a bowl of what looked like Lucky Charms.

“Get off,” Ryan muttered, shielding his eyes from the glare of the TV. The shower was on, meaning there was no hope of being rescued by Patrick. This was seriously the last time he was spending a night at Pete’s; every time, Pete woke him up by either sitting on him or pouring water on his face. At least since Patrick came into the picture. Before they just shared the same bed, and Pete was restless enough that Ryan hardly even slept.

“Or what?” Pete questioned, voice muffled by a mouthful of cereal. From down the hall, Ryan heard the water turn off, and he hoped Patrick wasn’t as vain as him or Pete.

“You’re heavy,” Ryan said, a pleading tone seeping into his words. Pete crunched on another spoonful, looking down at him with a small smile.

“Tell me what you got me,” he replied. A second after the words were out of his mouth, he jumped and dropped his bowl on the floor. Patrick walked past the couch, drying his hair. “Patrick!”

Ryan watched helplessly as Pete turned to reach for Patrick’s damp shirt, wincing when Pete put quite a lot of pressure on his ribs.

“Don’t pinch me!”

“Don’t sit on the guests,” Patrick said. He sounded a lot quieter, so he must have moved on to the kitchen. Pete climbed over the back of the couch and Ryan was free to sit up. As the couple argued, he reached for his bag of clothes, found a sweater and pulled it on. He was always cold.

“You told me to wake him up!”

“That doesn’t mean to break him in half.”

“I am not that heavy!”

The TV let out a horrid sound of static as Ryan stepped on the remote, cutting off whatever rebuttal Patrick was planning. He cursed and shut it off, throwing the remote onto the couch and going to the kitchen.

“Where’s Brendon?”

Patrick looked at him from under the towel that Pete was trying to push onto his face and smiled. Ryan’s hair was probably sticking up everywhere. He ran a hand through it self-consciously. Patrick was always put-together, even though he spent most of his time with Pete, and it wasn’t fair.

“He had to go home,” Pete answered, wrapping his arms around Patrick’s shoulders from behind. “But he said he’d be able to make the gift exchange.”

Ryan nodded. A glance at the clock told him it was nearly one in the afternoon. The group gift exchange was in two hours, and they had a half hour drive to get to Gerard and Frank’s.

“I'm gonna take a shower,” he said. The fact that Brendon was gone dampened his barely-there Christmas spirit considerably. He didn’t want to deal with Pete on his own, and Brendon was hyperactive enough to keep most of the elder’s attention. Now, at least, there was the matter of revenge keeping Pete from bugging him about his relationship status.

%

Spencer and Jon were already at Gerard and Frank’s, waiting outside, when Pete, Patrick and Ryan arrived. Brendon remained absent, causing Ryan more worry than what was already forcing him to chew on his fingers.

“Would you stop?” Pete said, knocking his hand away from his mouth. He wore a grimace. “That’s fucking disgusting.”

“Not like I'm biting you,” Ryan muttered, but Pete ignored him in favor of greeting Jon, who was wearing flip flops, in thirty degree weather. Patrick went straight into the house, carrying the little gifts everyone brought. Spencer smiled at Ryan’s disheveled appearance; his hair was still a mess because Pete refused to let him use his precious straightener, and his clothes were covered by a gigantic coat. Extra layers made him look like he was more than a skeleton for once.

“Are you cold?” Spencer teased, wrapping an arm around him. He rubbed Ryan’s back, both in comfort and to warm him up.

“Shut up,” Ryan said mildly. He leaned into his friend’s embrace. Jon joined Ryan on his other side while Pete ran, literally, to get back to Patrick. “How the fuck are you in flip flops?”

Jon just smiled and pulled the two younger boys up the driveway.

%

It was four o’clock, and Brendon still wasn’t there. All of Pete’s other friends were there (Jack and Alex, joined at the hip; Mikey, sticking close to Gerard and Frank; William, laughing about something Patrick was saying), but there was no sign of Brendon. Ryan had isolated himself in an arm chair, worrying his bottom lip. A bright red something entered his vision.

“What’s up, Ry?” Gerard said, sitting on the coffee table. Frank and Mikey crashed on the couch, discussing bands. Ryan shrugged. He wasn’t particularly interested in conversation with the redhead.

“He’s obviously worried about Brendon,” Mikey said. Ryan shrugged again, trading his lip for his index finger.

“Hold your conversations,” Pete called. He was standing on the coffee table behind Gerard, who looked ready to have a fit. He smiled at the group around him. “The gift exchange will begin momentarily.” Pete’s dark eyes landed on a slouching Ryan, and his smile grew. “If everyone would sit in a circle around the grump over there, I will hand your shit out.”

As Pete jumped off the table and went to gather gifts, Spencer and Jon took the arms of Ryan’s chair; Patrick sat on the couch beside Frank; Jack and Alex sat on the floor, Alex on top of Jack; William folded himself onto the arm of the couch closest to Ryan, smiling down at him. Ryan sunk lower into the chair.

Pete returned with a large red bag, starting with, “Jack.”

He continued around the circle until everyone had something. There was still something left in the bag, Brendon’s gift. Ryan picked at the black wrapping paper on his present and knew it had to be from one of the Ways.

“Alright, you can open,” Pete announced. The sound of tearing paper and excited chattering filled the room. Ryan peeled the paper carefully, getting a laugh from Spencer. He pulled the paper away to reveal a colorful scarf. Pete, who was laughing over a box filled with eyeliner, told everyone that they could reveal who gave what.

Mikey gave Jack a Home Alone DVD that he was practically crying over; Jack gave Spencer a new set of drumsticks; Spencer gave Patrick a pair of black fingerless gloves; Patrick gave William a certificate for a haircut; Will gave Jon a pair of biodegradable flip flops; Jon gave Alex the new Blink 182 CD; Frank got a free tattoo from Brendon; Frank gave Gerard new watercolors, earning him a bone-crushing hug; Gerard gave Ryan the scarf; Ryan was the one to give Pete the eyeliner; Pete gave Mikey a toy cell phone.

Ryan received some amused claps on the shoulder for his gift. He smiled, but it was hidden by the fabric of his new scarf. Pete’s phone started ringing, and he stepped out of the room after a glance at Ryan. It had to be Brendon on the other line. Excusing himself from Spencer’s presence, Ryan followed him.

“No, it’s fine,” Pete was saying. He didn’t notice Ryan’s appearance. “Yeah. Of course he’s in a bad mood.”

Ryan tapped Pete’s shoulder. Frowning, Pete handed the phone over, and Ryan put it to his ear. Brendon was still talking. Ryan could tell he was crying.

“—dad took my keys.”

“Bren,” Ryan said. Brendon inhaled sharply. “It’s okay.”

There was a pause.

“No, it isn’t,” Brendon argued, sniffling. Ryan waited, knowing there was more. “They’re being bigots. Hold on.”

Someone yelled on the other end, followed by shuffling. The line went dead. Ryan resisted the urge to throw Pete’s phone into the wall, handing it over instead. Before Pete could say the apology in his eyes, Ryan went back to the celebration, sinking into the chair again. Spencer stayed on the arm of the chair, absently playing with Ryan’s hair while he talked to Patrick about drum sets.

%

After a dinner of leftover pizza from Pete’s fridge, Patrick drove Ryan back to his own apartment.

“You can come over whenever,” Patrick said as Ryan unbuckled his seatbelt. “I promise Pete won’t sit on you again.”

Giving him a small smile, Ryan thanked him for the ride and got out of the car. Patrick waited until Ryan was in the building to drive away. Ryan trudged up the stairs because the elevator was broken. At the end of his hall, he was fighting to get his keys out of his pocket when he froze. There were lights strung up around his doorway, blue ones, that he hadn’t put up. He collected himself and continued to the door, unlocking it. As soon as he opened it, he could have screamed or cried or something else dramatic. But he didn’t. He simply stepped inside, shut the door, and looked around.

There were decorations everywhere: lights taped on the walls, a little tree by the couch, bows tied around the chairs. In the middle of it all, Brendon was lying on a blanket, asleep. The television was on, a cheesy Christmas movie still playing. Ryan dropped his keys on the table, and the sound woke the younger boy.

“You’re home,” Brendon said, stretching out. He sat up while Ryan continued to observe his apartment, brown eyes reflecting the colorful lights. “I thought you were staying at Pete’s again.”

“He sat on me,” Ryan replied, finally meeting Brendon’s eyes. “You did this all today?”

Brendon shrugged, a small self-satisfied smile curving his lips. “Yeah.”

“But you said you had to be at home,” Ryan frowned.

“No I didn’t. You assumed that. Take your coat off, you’re making me warm just looking at you.”

“I'm cold,” Ryan said distractedly. He frowned deeper, and Brendon folded his legs under his body. “Why didn’t you come to Gee’s?”

“I was a little busy with all this,” Brendon answered, tone suggesting Ryan should have known. “Come sit.”

Ryan hesitated before joining Brendon on the blanket, letting his legs span the square. He was surprised when Brendon scooted closer, hugging him, and even more surprised when his arms decided to hug back.

“I'm sorry I left you by yourself,” Brendon said, face buried in Ryan’s shoulder. He was warm. Ryan’s eyes found a box that had previously been hidden under his bed sitting on the middle of the couch.

“Brendon,” he said, pulling back. Brendon followed his gaze.

“I didn’t open it. I was looking for my shoe, and I found it.”

Ryan looked at Brendon for a minute, trying to figure out if it was a lie. His eyes were a little red, and he’d been crying on the phone earlier; he opened it. Keeping his eyes away from Brendon’s face, Ryan grabbed the box and turned it in one hand.

“You opened it,” he said quietly. Brendon stayed silent, so Ryan lifted the lid and set box on Brendon’s lap. Two plain silver rings caught the light coming from the wall. Ryan studied Brendon’s expression, carefully schooled to be impassive. “Merry Christmas, Bren.”