Lost and Found

Brendon’s Point of View

So we got done our show which I had to fight to pull off. I had slept like shit last night from thinking too much and I kept having these weird dreams… I don’t know. But needless to say, I was fucking beat. We were going back to the hotel, but we hate to wait to shower until we got there. Before loading on the tour bus, we poured water bottles over us, Ryan and Spencer playing a nice little game of water tag. See? This is what I mean by them being so close. It bothers me.

We got on the bus, Jon hogging the couch and Spencer deciding he wanted to lie on the floor. I glanced around the room, scanning for something. I don’t know what; there was nothing to find. I started toward the bunks, apparently not paying attention, because Ryan and I stumbled into each other. He was coming out from the back of the bus. We both glanced up at each other and he smiled. He smiled. Why did he smile? What did he know? I shook my head, jumbling my thoughts. They were still there, but at least I couldn’t tell what they were.

We both moved to the right, then both to the left, both to the right again before, “Okay, you go left, I’ll go right,” Ryan spoke softly, a repressed giggle in his throat. I could tell by the way his eyes sparkled and the way his voice was unsteady. I alternated my vision between his two eyes and I couldn’t help but smile. He cocked his head at me and then I remembered that I was supposed to be moving, not staring. I widened my eyes unintentionally while I reprimanded myself, causing a peculiar and curious look to break out across Ryan’s entire face. “You alright?” I stared at him for at least ten seconds before anything registered. God damn sleep deprivation.

“I’m… fine.” What in the hell was the hesitation for? I didn’t know what I wanted to say? “I didn’t sleep real well last night,” I stated, a frown masking my face at the memory as I leaned to the left to get around him. He moved his body out of my way, only spinning and facing me again once I was past him. I was looking down at my bunk and rummaging through my bag. I was trying to find something without having to dump the whole thing out. I felt like a woman when I did that. Plus, it was such a pain. I happen to have slight OCD, so everything has to be in a certain place. I couldn’t just take everything and put it back in the bag, it would have to be sorted. I just didn’t have the patience for that today. Trying to would just result in me throwing everything against the wall and having to do it all over again. How productive is that?

I let out a groan of frustration, picking up my duffle bag and throwing it back against the bed. I heard the pitter patter of feet and heard the squeak of the mattress before I turned around and was once again looking at Ryan who was fiddling with his fingers. He did that a lot. People say I have ADHD, but when Ryan’s in a comfortable situation, he never shuts up and can't stop moving. It’s usually a competition between him and I.

I was staring blank faced at him, at a complete loss for words and I didn’t even know why. Even though Ryan makes me nervous I usually talk a mile a minute around him because of the fact he makes me nervous. It's Spencer who I get quiet around because my nerves are just that bad. Isn't it odd how Spencer makes me more nervous than Ryan? I've thought about just confronting Spencer about things... to see what he knows. Just get everything out... to see if it would help my paranoia. But I freeze up when I'm around him because I'm afraid of something slipping past my lips. That just tells me that I don't want him to know. By sitting down and talking things out, I'd have to admit to things. I wasn't willing to do that... so I just kept my mouth shut.

Jon either seems to be oblivious or doesn’t care. Whichever, I don’t care. He stays out of it. I wish Spencer would stay out of it. But whatever he knows he learned from Ryan, so I guess Ryan wants him to know. What am I supposed to do about that?

It’s not like Ryan is breaking a promise. We didn’t agree to not mention anything to a single soul. We didn’t sign a contract, although now the idea sounds appealing. But it’s not like I could expect him not to make Spencer an exception anyway.

I involuntarily cleared my throat, signaling a sigh from Ryan, who stopped staring at his hands and stuck them between his legs, which he crossed at the ankles. “You could lay down,” he said in almost a whisper. I say almost because Ryan’s whispers are very soft, and he was being a bit louder than that. I shivered at the memory of his whispering, letting out a small whimper, biting my lip harshly as punishment. I winced at the bolts of pain that shot through my whole body. Curse my brain. Curse me. Curse us. The three things that are responsible for my sleep deprivation which was responsible for me being over emotional right now.

I paused once again at his words, letting them process. “Ugh, there’s no point,” I groaned. God, you could tell how tired I was from that. “We’re almost there…” I finished, my voice tailing off that the end as a yawn was drawn from my lips.

“What kept you up last night?” he pried. Oh Ryan, you always have to know, don’t you?
Don’t you already know? Were you sleeping? What do you want? Then again, you’ve never been one to just come out and say it, you always have to make it nonchalant. Do you want to make me say something first so you know it's okay to say it too?

I sighed. I’m paranoid like normal. You’d think maybe that since I’m usually paranoid, being sleep deprived would have the inverse reaction and make me not paranoid…but that’s just wishful thinking on my part. Besides, all of my other emotions are intensified when I’m sleep deprived, so why would it make the paranoia anything but worse? It would be so nice if sleep deprivation created emotions, false emotions that weren’t normally there, because then I could just make sure I was never sleep deprived, but that of course is not the case. They’re there; I just refuse to face them. I don’t see what good facing them will do. It won’t change anything.

“Overactive brain…” I answered. “And weird dreams,” I continued, changing my tone to a questioning one upon mentioning the dreams.

“Oh.”

Yeah, oh. What the hell do you want, Ry? Honestly. What do you want?

“Do you wanna talk about ‘em?” he asked, his voice sounding hopeful.

No, but apparently you do.

“They don’t make any sense… I don’t see how it would help,” I responded, annoyance lacing my words.

“Okay…” he muttered, looking down at the floor. I sighed. How does he do that to me? Piss me off and then make me want to take it all back just like that?

As the bus came to a stop, I swung my dufflebag over my shoulder and concluded one thing.

Curse you, Ryan. Curse you.