Regrets Can't Change the Past

“I want to be with you forever.”

“Forever’s a really long time, Brendon.”

“I know.”

***

The fingers trailing down his stomach shake nervously as he breaths steadily, looking up into the eyes of the boy above him. Neither of them have ever done this before but they’re sure that they want to do it. It’s putting ‘I Love You’s and ‘I Trust You’s together and into actions.

And as they finish, Ryan rolling off of Brendon’s sweaty body to lay next to him, their hands clasp together as if the only thing they need to survive for the rest of their lives is each other.

***

In order for someone to care that they’re together, someone would have to know that they’re together, and for someone to know that they’re together, someone would have to care about them.

***

“Just one more year, Bren. One more year of high school and then we’re free to do whatever we want.”

“And what are we gonna do?” Brendon smiles, leaning in closer to Ryan.

“Run away,” Ryan grins. “Run away together, get a place of our own and never look back.”

“I can get a job to support us and you can work on your writing,” Brendon says.

“It’ll be perfect.”

***

“You’re…moving?” Brendon whispers the word as if he’s a five-year-old uttering a profanity. Ryan’s eyes stay glued to the floor as he nods.

“Where? Why? When?”

“Pennsylvania. Dad found a job there. We have to leave in three weeks.”

“And you have to go with him?!”

“Where else would I go, Brendon?”

“But you can’t go! That’s all the way on the other side of the country!” Brendon says, his eyes burning and wet.

“Do you think I want to go?!”

“No. I don’t know. Do you?”

“Of course I don’t!”

“Then don’t. Don’t go. Let’s run away. I have some money saved up, we can get a bus and go to California. I know it’s not New York City, but it will do. Come on, let’s do this.”

“Brendon, I can’t.”

“Why can’t you? Ryan, this is perfect! This is our chance! Sure, a bit earlier than we had planned on, but--”

“Brendon, stop,” Ryan says, cutting him off. “I can’t. We can’t.”

“But why?”

“Because…it won’t work.”

“What are you saying? It could work.”

“You know that I love you, right?” Ryan asks, and he’s looking down again, picking at his fingernails, and Brendon has learned to read Ryan well enough to the point where he knows that this isn’t good.

“Are you breaking up with me?”

“Brendon.”

“You are.”

They’ve never even had a fight before this. Just an hour ago, Brendon was convinced that they would be together forever. It’s as if all of the air from his lungs has escaped and he can’t breathe. He’s gasping for air and he feels like he’s drowning or suffocating or something.

“It’s for the best. And I know you probably can’t see that now, but I promise it is.”

“But what about our plans?! New York City! A place of our own! What am I going to do now?!”

“I’m so sorry. I have to do this, though.”

“No you don’t!”

“I have to go, Brendon,” he says, getting up.

He’s lying. He doesn’t have to go anywhere. He just can’t stand seeing the boy that he loves in so much pain, knowing that he’s the one who’s causing it.

“I really do love you,” he says, just before he’s gone.

***

Ryan moves to Pennsylvania three weeks later with his dad.

***

Brendon finished high school and graduates, just as planned, but he has absolutely no idea what to do next.

He sends in an application at the community college and is accepted, even though he’s incredibly late in the applying process.

***

Ryan stays in Pennsylvania for a year before he moves to New York City. He’d always planned on moving there with Brendon and in the back of his mind, he wishes that that’s what he was doing.

***

Brendon makes it through almost two years of college before dropping out and moving to California. He gets a shitty job in a shitty restaurant with a shitty salary that’s just enough to get by on.

***

Six years since he’s moved to New York City, Ryan is in the diner that he goes to every morning, sitting in the booth that he sits in every morning, pen in hand, scratching away at the paper in the notebook on the table.

He hears a customer order a cup of coffee and he hears the barista asking for the customer’s name and the customer answers “Brendon” and Ryan’s stomach twists painfully and his heart feels like it’s being stabbed, but he tries to ignore it and continue writing, but he’s lost his train of thought, so he looks up and his heart skips about five beats in a row.

It’s him. He’s older and his hair is different, but it’s so unmistakably him. And Ryan is caught between two urges. He doesn’t know whether he wants to jump up and scream his name and make everything right again, or if he should just stay quiet and let him go on.

But he figures that he already regrets enough and he would regret not saying anything more than anything that he might say.

“Brendon.” His heartbeat is racing as he watches him turn around and when their eyes meet, it takes Brendon a few seconds of confusion before he finally realizes who he’s looking at.

“Ryan?”

“Yeah,” Ryan nods, sliding out of his booth and standing up, trying to read Brendon’s expression, but he can’t.

“What are. I mean. Why…. What…. How…how are you?”

“I’m…okay,” Ryan answers, unsure about whether it’s normal that they haven’t spoken or seen each other in seven years, yet, so far, their conversation is like they haven’t seen each other for a few days.

“Um. Do you…live here?” Brendon asks.

“What, in this diner?” Ryan jokes, then says, “Yeah, I do live…in the city.”

“Oh,” Brendon says, and smiles a little bit. “I’m sorry, this is weird. I didn’t expect to…see you…ever. So I apologize if I seem awkward or unprepared because…that’s how I’m feeling right now.”

“You don’t need to apologize for that. I’m feeling the same way.”

“I can’t believe it’s really you,” Brendon says softly, and then before Ryan can really process what’s going on, there’s arms around his neck and Brendon’s all-too-familiar body is pressed against his once again. Way too quickly, Brendon is pulling away from Ryan, but he’s smiling, and Ryan is almost confused.

“You don’t…hate me?”

“Hate you? Oh my god, Ryan, no! I mean, sure, I thought I hated you for a really long time, but how many years has it been?” he asks, pausing for a second and counting on his fingers. “Seven. Seven years. Somewhere within those seven years I realized that I didn’t hate you and that you had been right all along.”

“Right about what?”

“That it was for the best. It took me forever to figure that out, but you were right. And now I’m just so happy to see you again! We have so much to catch up on!”

“Yeah, definitely,” Ryan agrees, ignoring the twisting feeling in his chest that had started when Brendon said that it had been for the best.

“Were you writing?” Brendon asks, eyeing the notebook on the table that Ryan had been sitting at. “Are you a writer?”

“Um, yeah, sort of,” Ryan answers.

“I always knew you’d make it. What are you working on? A novel? No, no, no, let me guess, you’re writing for like, The New York Times or something, aren’t you?”

“Actually,” Ryan laughs, “It’s more of a…freelance thing right now.” He doesn’t bother telling Brendon that he hasn’t finished anything in years.

“That’s awesome. You know, we should really exchange phone numbers because there’s no way we’ll be able to catch up on seven years in just a few minutes. Here,” he says, reaching into his back pocket and pulling out his cell phone. “Program your number in here, I’ll put mine in yours.”

“Actually,” Ryan says, taking Brendon’s phone, “I um…only have a landline at this exact moment. But if you want to write your number down, you can put it in my notebook!”

“Oh, yeah, sure,” Brendon says, taking a step towards Ryan’s notebook, flipping it to an unmarked page and picking up the pen. He scribbles down his number then turns back to Ryan who finishes programming his number in Brendon’s phone and hands it back to him. He glances down at his notebook and Brendon’s number and notices that his area code is something totally different than his own.

“Where do you live?” he asks.

“Well I’ve been living in California for the past few years,” he answers.

“So what are you doing here?”

“Um. Business trip. And looking for apartments because I’ll be living here soon,” Brendon says with a smile.

“Oh, so you’re a businessman, then?”

“Um, no. I’m not here on my business trip. It’s -- oh, hey, speak of the devil,” Brendon laughs, and Ryan follows his gaze towards the diner’s entrance to see a man in a business suit coming in and walking towards Brendon.

And it’s only then that Ryan notices the ring on Brendon’s left hand.

“Shane, hey, this is my old…best friend, Ryan. Ryan, this is Shane,” he introduces. “My…fiancé.”