Hey Santa

Ryan was the epitome of the type of kid Brendon’s parents specifically warned him about. Something to do with “God’s grace just doesn’t get through to everyone.” And granted, Brendon never had any real inclination to associate himself with said boy. He came from a well off middle-class family. The Uries were respected and had a reputation as an ideal family inside the Mormon community—where God was at the center and family surrounding it, which in retrospect meant Brendon looked for the good in everyone- like his church asked him to. Like the good Mormon boy he was. But there was always something so off-putting whenever Brendon entered the halls of Ridgemont High that Ryan boy was always standing adjacent to his locker, starring at him, before walking down the hall to his left. Surely, it was all in Brendon’s head. The entire thing because how preposterous would it be for someone to wait around for him specifically? Every single morning. At first it seemed coincidental because it was common knowledge that arriving to school a quarter past seven was an acceptable time for anyone to enter the halls. They got to school around the same time. No big deal. But then in passing, Brendon discovers Ryan isn’t even assigned a locker in his section because Ross and Urie have letters separating them alphabetically. He could have been assigned another locker though, Brendon concludes. The school often runs out or mixes with enrollment lead to these things. But then. then Brendon is late to school one morning. It’s already half past eight, and he’s running to his locker and there he is. Ryan Ross and infamous locker 708.

“Hey,” it’s the first time Brendon’s ever called out to him. First time he’s ever made any type of approach to interact with the boy he was specifically told not to talk to. Ryan has a reputation at school. Well, his family did. He was what Brendon’s community considered a direct punishment from the Lord for having had a harlot of a mother. She left sometime when Ryan was a kid and left him with his father- who just so happens to be the town’s infamous alcoholic. They live somewhere down in the Gecko, a part of town Brendon’s parents strictly prohibited from ever entering. As a result from having come from sinning parents, Ryan became the byproduct- the ultimate tragedy (according to the elders in Brendon’s church) and the way he acts is a testimony to it. Brendon, as well as the entire student body, knows that Ryan doesn’t have any friends. He’s the school’s misfit- one who hangs out towards the back of the cafeteria, earphones in, hoodie up. He never misses school though (Brendon would know because he has a perfect attendance record he’s proud of) and he’s heard from his older brothers that he’s failing all his classes and rumor has it, he should have graduated a year ago.

“Hey,” Brendon tries again, closing his locker shut and turning to face the boy. “Do you need something?”

“I’ve been waiting on you.” And Brendon isn’t sure what it is that surprises him the most. The fact the kid answered him in the first place or the answer itself. He’s left dumbfounded for a moment before remembering he’s later to class and really doesn’t have time for this.

“I have English.” And it’s an honors course that he’s positive Ryan isn’t in.

“I just wanted to give you your present.” and the calamity and tranquility that comes with his answer is what make the hairs on the back of his neck stand up. Brendon doesn’t really know what to say to that.

“That’s funny….” Brendon waits for the joke, or a smile, any type of indication of whatever weird joke Ryan’s trying to pull. But then he smiles and it looks so genuine, but so seemingly sad that Brendon isn’t even sure what to think anymore.

“It’s gonna be Christmas soon. Doesn’t your church celebrate that? I got you a present.” But….what kind of logic is this?

“That’s really nice of you. Really, really nice, but you don’t have to do that. I don’t even know you very well.” Or at all. None at all, actually.

“I’ve never gotten a Christmas present before.” And Brendon doesn’t really know how to answer to that but he doesn’t really have to because Ryan isn’t done. “And I’ve never had anyone to give one too. So I thought maybe if I gave one this year, I’d get one too. Because I’ve tried so hard this year to be a clean living boy, and I’ve seen you around and everyone likes you. You’ve got friends and good grades, and you’ve never called me a bastard kid like everyone else has. So I got you a Christmas present.”

And what is he supposed to say to that? “That’s…really nice.” He looks down the hall from the corner of his eye, silently praying someone will come by- preferably a teacher- and shoo them to class. But he didn’t pray hard enough because Ryan is still looking at him with this…smile. “I didn’t get you anything though.” Brendon states awkwardly because why would he have?

“That’s okay, you can get me one next year. But I still got you a present.” And the Ryan’s eyes light up, at the sight reminds Brendon of his mission on earth anyways. To spread God’s love and so he finds himself smiling back at the other boy.

“Well okay then, let me see it.” But then Ryan shakes his head, a -blush?- on his cheeks and Brendon’s confused again. “I was hoping you’d come over to my house. I could give it to you there. It could be like…like an early Christmas. I’ve heard people open them at midnight. Is that true?” and it is because it’s the very tradition the Uries have, but out of family context what Ryan is saying just sounds so utterly bizarre and Brendon can’t help but have images of the Gecko flash before his eyes.

“I get it. You don’t want to hang out with the poor kid. I get it.” And the smile on his face is gone and when he begins to walk away, Brendon feels the overwhelming guilt start to settle in his stomach.

“Hey!” He calls after him, catching hold of the taller boy’s backpack and tugging back slightly, “You didn’t let me answer.”

“You were going to say that ‘that’s really nice, but I have something to do afterschool.’” And he’s right, but Brendon’s had a change of heart. “Actually, I was going to ask you where you lived…so I could walk there…maybe around nine?” And Brendon feels like a good person when Ryan gets that smile on his face again.

“Please tell mom and dad that I’m going to be home quite late tonight. I have a duty to attend to.” Brendon finds his brother, Matt at his locker once the end of the day bell rings.

“Duty?” he questions and Brendon knows he shouldn’t lie. God doesn’t like liars. He knows that. So he doesn’t.

“Ryan asked me to come to his house tonight, because he isn’t going to be having a real Christmas, you know.” Of course he knows. Everyone in the entire town knows that Ryan has probably never had a holiday in his entire life. “And so I think I should go, because its what God would want.” He states and Matt looks at him unimpressed.

“You do know he’s asked almost everyone to come over to his house?” and no, Brendon doesn’t know that and doesn’t know why it really matters because obviously Ryan wanted to have a celebration of some sorts. Who could blame him? An early Christmas he had called it. “And you’re the only one who’s foolish enough to accept.”

“Language Matthew,” Brendon says in distaste, “It’s a season of joy and sacrifice, have you not been paying attention to the readings?”

“I have, which is why I know well enough not to go around mingling with abominations.” Is Matt’s reply and Brendon gasps at his choice of words.

“Maybe he needs someone to bring him out of the darkness then.” Brendon ends the discussion there and turns to walk out the building.

It’s already beginning to look like Christmas- which is bizarre in itself because they live in Las Vegas, Nevada- a city in the basin of the Mojave Dessert and it just shouldn’t get like this here. But there they are, the heavy glooming clouds and the rain begins to fall. Brendon makes the short walk to the library to get a head start on his schoolwork before going over to Ryan’s house. He said he’d walk, but its raining and if he’s being honest- which he always is- he’s not so fond of walking around in the Gecko so late in the evening because even though God’s grace protects him- there are some evils in the world that not even the light can shine through.

Brendon gets to the address scribbled on his notebook an hour early. He’d have come right on the dot, but he wasn’t courageous enough to wait it out and risk getting mugged at a later hour. The taxi driver didn’t seem all that impressed as Brendon cowered in the backseat the further into the Gecko they drove. The neighborhood itself isn’t as bad as his parents made it seem.

It’s worse.

There are approximately a dozen men in hooded jackets hanging around street posts in the few blocks they pass and across the street are girls with hardly any clothes on and Brendon shields his eyes away before the good inside him is burnt out. Every house they pass is alike the other in some way. They all have rusted up and beaten down fences surrounding a yard that is covered with dried up grass and dirt roads. Every individual home has at least one broken window and piled up garbage sitting out on the curb. It’s filthy and depressing and Brendon really wants to tell the driver to turn back around when he announces, “This is it.”

Ryan’s house- if you could even call it that- is no better than the rest of them. There’s a beaten up car in the driveway that Brendon is pretty sure can’t run, discarded boxes of what look like are filled with alcoholic bottles sitting out on the curb, and both of the front windows of the home are caved it. But then Brendon spots the worn down plastic snowman- with only one arm and a chipped carrot nose siting on the porch and the string of lights messily hanging from the roof and even though a quarter of them don’t even turn on- its all he needs to know it’s going to be okay.

He looks for a doorbell, but when he can’t find it, he hesitantly brings his knuckles against the wooden frame. He’s nervous, and he knows he shows it because his hands are shaking and his palms are sweaty and his teeth are chattering. He hears the sound of rustling behind the door and he leans in slightly when he hears what sounds like the sound of glass breaking. Then that panic sets in because the car in the driveway is potentially Ryan’s father’s and the glass could mean bottles and Brendon starts walking away because he isn’t going to intrude on such violent ac-

“You came.” And it’s the jingling bell of the Santa Claus hat sitting on top of Ryan’s head that snaps Brendon out of it. “Merry Christmas, Ryan.” Brendon finds his smile contagious and holds out the wrapped box in his hands. It wasn’t much- it being last minute and all- but he stopped by the store to pick up a scarf.

“It’s not midnight yet,” but Ryan’s eyes are shining and the bell jingles as he nods to himself excitedly and Brendon is pretty sure this is what Christmas is supposed to be about. “You can come inside, it’s going to start raining again.” He says and opens the door wide for Brendon to step in.

The first thing Brendon notices is the large abstract shape in the corner. It’s random pieces of wood stuck together with what looks like masking tape. There are pieces of yarn and tinfoil wrapped around the object and Brendon is baffled until he makes out what is a poorly made star made of newspaper on top.

“I should put your present under the tree.” Brendon says and Ryan nods, motioning him forward, “Did you make it yourself?”

“The old man says real Christmas trees are a waste of damn space and money.” Is his reply and Brendon doesn’t press the subject any further. “You’re early.” Ryan states once Brendon places the gift underneath the tree.

“Yeah…it was cold out and I wanted to beat the rain.” He shrugs, beginning to shed off his coat.

“I was trying to clean up, so you wouldn’t have to see this mess.” And its then that Brendon digests the rest of the room, which is littered with remnants of beer bottles, cigarettes, and what look like syringes. “I was going to put out this garland one of my neighbors threw out because it still kind of smells like pine, but you came early and you weren’t supposed to see this mess.” There’s a hint of melancholy in the air and Brendon feels something inside him tug at his heart at the embarrassment coloring the other boy’s face.

“Hey, it’s quite alright. We can just pick up these bottles together and toss them out. No harm.” Brendon chirps.

“We can’t toss them out. We need to gather them, its how I pay the rent.” And that’s about the saddest thing Brendon’s ever heard.

“Okay sure, yeah. We can gather them all up- right in here.” He picks up a beat up box poking from under the couch and hauls it over.

“I didn’t invite you over to clean for me, I’m really sorry.” Brendon just gives him a smile that Ryan is quick to return and they get to work. It doesn’t take too long- Brendon pulling his sleeves over his hands so he doesn’t actually have to touch anything- while Ryan effortlessly scoops up the entire east side, which only makes Brendon realize he must do this often.

“Should we take them out front?” Brendon asks, recalling there were other boxes adorning the curb with them. He picks up the other half of the box while Ryan grabs the opposite. It’s not so heavy then.

The rain has stopped, but it’s become extremely dark and he relies on following Ryan to get him to the curb. “I thought other people were going to come, but they had stuff to do.” Ryan says once they place the box beside others, forming a uniform line of emptied vices. A trophy. In some sick twisted way.

“Now I have all these cookies and soda and I can’t get my money back.” And Brendon’s heart finds a way to break, morph back together, and shatter once more.

“That’s alright, I haven’t eaten anything all day so I could help you out there.” He tried to comfort him with his words, but Ryan’s got this look and he’s looking over Brendon’s shoulder and Brendon doesn’t really know what to make of it.

“Are you okay?” Then he gets it. When he hears it.

“Hey Santa!”

“Santa! What’d you wish for this Christmas?”

“His mom probably.”

“Or an actual dad.”

And the kids ride along on their wheels, tossing insults Ryan’s way with a chorus of “Hey Santa!” And there’s a mix of anguish and anger floating in Ryan’s eyes in the form of tears and before Brendon can do anything about it, the other takes off the hat, throws it on the floor and stomps on it before retrieving inside. Brendon remains though, staring at the now broken jingle bell and the dirt-covered rim of the hat that was once white. Well, that wasn’t very nice. He watches in sorrow as the kids fade down the block, his mind rushing miles per second before he picks up the remains of the hat, dusts it off and heads back inside.

“Hey-”

“You can go home now. Thanks for coming.” Ryan cuts in before Brendon gets any word in. It’s extremely difficult to look at, Brendon realizes. Because here is a kid, a kid who’s probably older than him, but a kid no less, who lives in a world where he was forced to become an adult without going through the transition. And now he’s stuck in this horrible in between stage where he’s neither child nor adult. He’s just there. Existing- picking up the pieces of broken vices in forms of bottles and drugs while trying to recreate them into something pure, like spirit and trees.

“We still have all that food to look forward to though.” Brendon closes the door behind him, approaching the remains of broken youth with caution. “And you haven’t opened the gift I got you.”
“It’s not midnight yet.”

“Exactly.” So he places the hat back on his head by stepping on the tip of his toes and although the bell no longer works, the look on Ryan’s face works enough. It’s enough.

“It’s all in the kitchen, I cleaned up in there.” He motions to an archway and Brendon steps ahead of him, leading the way into the small room. It’s not much, but he sees the effort Ryan’s put into it. There’s streamers made of construction paper hanging from the wall- greens, golds, reds- and a handful of paper cups with trays of what he assumes are assorted cookies. “I have to go to the store.” Ryan announces, his eyes fixated on the time displayed on the oven top.

“I thought you had everything already?”

“I didn’t stock up the fridge. You were early.” Is his reply and he’s cracking his knuckle into his hand and he looks so nervous that it’s making Brendon uneasy.

“Okay….which store are we going to?”

“Its only around the corner. I’ll be back.”

“I’ll come with you.” He volunteers quickly because staying alone in Ryan’s home does not seem like the ideal activity. But Ryan seems to think it is.

“You can stay here and I’ll be back and stock the fridge and then dad won’t get so upset.” Oh.

“If he comes home and I’m here, are you going to get in trouble?” But he’s shaking his head and zipping up his sweater. “Stay in here. You can try them, they aren’t so bad.” He walks over to uncover one of the trays and Brendon’s met with Christmas tree and Santa Claus shaped sugar cookies. “Just leave a few. I don’t know which ones mom will like best.”

“I thought your mom…I….You live with your dad don’t you?” Brendon asks uncomfortably, shifting in his seat at the dinner table.

“She said she’d be back by Christmas. Just didn’t say which one.” The overwhelming pressure he feels inside his chest is suddenly made ten times more heavy and Brendon turns around, looking for what he could possibly say after that, but Ryan’s already there, behind him and he puts the beaten up hat on his head. “You’re pretty. A little odd, but still pretty.” And then he’s walking out the front door but not before adding, “I hope you choose to stay.” And Brendon doesn’t know what to think.

But he stays. It’s been a little over an hour and the light outside is gone completely, which led him to turn on the kitchen light- only to discover the bulb has been burned out and he’s not all that surprised. He’s sitting at the table, his phone’s flashlight illuminating the small room, and a cookie in hand. Should he be worried? It’s close to eleven now and the Gecko isn’t somewhere you want to be at this hour. But he told Ryan he’d stay, and Brendon doesn’t lie. He decides waiting around isn’t the most efficient way to kill time, so he gets up, curiosity getting the better of him and he finds himself going up the stairs, the wood creaking underneath his feet as he reaches the top landing. There are three doors in the small corridor, one is a bathroom- or should be anyways, but judging by the amount of pill bottles and syringes on the floor, he’s not so sure. The second one is locked, so he doesn’t bother. When he gets to the third, he finds it’s already slightly ajar, and so he pushes inside. This has to be Ryan’s room. Because it’s the only room in the house- probably in the entire neighborhood- that has some type of soul to it. There’s a bed pushed to the corner, with a black drape hung over the window that prevents artificial light from coming through. There is however, a couple of lights plugged into the wall that allow Brendon to see the layout. There’s a dresser in the opposite corner with a couple of knick knacks decorating the top. The walls themselves are a light blue, with a variety of different drawings on each. If Ryan painted these himself, Brendon’s impressed. There’s some type of pastoral scene on the main wall behind the bed that brings a bright smile to Brendon’s face. Amidst darkness, light can always shine through.

“You stayed.” Brendon visibly jumps, holding a hand to his chest having been caught off guard. “You scared me! Oh….sorry, I was bored downstairs and…sorry.” He apologizes quickly, realizing how utterly wrong it is for him to have invaded his privacy like this. But Ryan doesn’t seem to think so because he gently pushes Brendon into the room. “It’s beautiful.” Brendon says, being able to see the four walls clearly now that he’s standing in the interior.

“I think so too.” And Brendon turns to smile at him, but Ryan’s already looking at him, and he has this look again.

“Er- so, it’s almost midnight.” Brendon says when the awkwardness gets to be too much.

“I know the world's a broken bone, but melt your headaches, call it home.”

“I’m sorry, what?” Brendon furrows his brows.

“You said that in English class once.”

“I did?”

“We had to write a poem for Mr. Adams and you said those words.”

“Mr. Adams was almost three years ago.”

“I know.”

“Oh.” And that awkward atmosphere returns and Brendon rocks on the balls of his heels nervously, taking interest in the carpet beneath him.

“What did it mean? Because I’ve tried it. I’ve tried what you said.” He motions to the space they’re in, “I did every little thing you said to do.” He continues and Brendon isn’t sure what he’s talking about. “I tried to make it go away. Because I know. I know. My life is a mess and my dad’s an alcoholic prick who thinks its okay to beat me if his drug dealer fucks him over. And I know my mom called quits on me and I know. I know the world’s broken…so I tried. I did what you said. I made my own home. I made a home in every nook and cranny of this hell. I stocked the fridge. There’s alcohol again, but I got something for me this time. I got a bottle of orange juice and it was awfully pretty, sitting there among all the liquor. It made it okay. I tried to make it Christmas and I got this hat and made all these decorations and nothing happened. I don’t get it. I listen to you in English. Every morning. You have English and you read these words and they’re so perfect because your world is perfect. Your life is perfect, and you have your God. Is that what I’m supposed to do? Find my own God because I don’t think your God wants to help me. It works for you, I think. But it isn’t working for me. Love is not a choice. You said that too, but I don’t think you were right because my mom left. She chose not to love me. My dad chose not to love me when he chose vice over virtue. Your god left me too, and he chose not to love me and I chose to love, but no one wanted it. I’m choosing love, but no one wants it. Do you understand that? ”

What is going on? Brendon stares at him with his mouth slightly ajar, a puzzled expression tainting his face. He feels hot and bothered under the gaze he’s being given. It’s scary. Because Ryan isn’t yelling at him, no. He looks troubled. Worried. Desperate. So desperate.

“I don’t know. I’m sorry.”

“It’s almost midnight.” Ryan says after a moment, moving away from the archway and instead stepping inside the room. When he closes the door behind him, Brendon begins to feel unnerved.

“I've been waiting on you.” Ryan says and Brendon blinks slowly, unsure what he means, but isn’t foolish enough to ask. “You’re the good religious boy, you’re supposed to look for people like me so your God can fix me, aren’t you?” and then he’s kneeling in front of Brendon who somehow ended up seated in the corner of the bed. “But you didn’t seek me out. So I had to come to you. Because you chose not to try and fix me.”

“I think I should go now….” Brendon whispers when Ryan grabs his hand.

“No one else around believes me. I’m trying to choose love. Don’t you get that? I’m trying.” Brendon nods weakly, a forced smile on his mouth before he tries to get up but Ryan doesn’t like that. “I have a Christmas present for you.” He says quietly before reaching under the bed, all the while holding Brendon’s gaze.

“Ryan, I really have to go now.” He tries to sound firm and confident, but his voice is troubled and wavered. Ryan shakes his head and sits up on his knees, scooting closer to him. “I know what you call me. Your people. They say I’m a bastard. I’m an abomination. A sinner.” And it’s all true. All the elders have gone to great lengths to use the Ross family as an example of what the devil looks like. “And maybe they’re right. My old man is a sinner. I’m a bastard child one way or another and we sinners choose to be evil. We choose to sin. We choose.” He’s squeezing Brendon’s hand hard now, and Brendon takes shallow breaths because he doesn’t like where this is headed. He also doesn’t like it when Ryan places a rectangular box in his lap.

“I’m a sinner.” He says brokenly, tears filling his eyes and Brendon quickly shakes his head. “Hey, what your parents do don’t make you a sinner too. Hey,” he pats his head awkwardly. “But I am. I really am,.”

“Why do you say that?”

“Because I…because I got a bullet in my gun” and then Ryan’s hand is no longer holding his but opening the box and Brendon’s ready to throw up.

“H-hey….hey, why don't we t-talk about it, work it out, hey, put that down.” He’s shaking all over, his legs betraying him when he attempts to stand up.

“The children on the block they tease me. Your church hates me. My parents say I’m a parasite. I can’t let them off that easy.”

“Ryan.” Brendon breaths, his eyes starting to fill with tears, “Please don’t. Please.”
“They all went home. I’ve got it all perfectly Brendon, don’t you see. I’ve been planning this for weeks. I know where they all are. They’re at Brooke’s house. He’s having a get together too. They all went. I gave them a chance,.I gave them all a chance. I asked them to come, so I wouldn’t have to do it. I asked them all and only you came. You chose to come and they chose not to. So you get the present. You got to live. Yeah.”

“Ryan…”

“There’s no getting around this. I chose to be a sinner. The same way they chose to make me one. Love is a choice.” He says quietly before standing up off the floor and Brendon has never been more terrified in his life. “ Listen, I know life is hard. Believe me, I know. Just look at how pathetic my house is.” He laughs feebly before turning to face him. “Hey, life is hard, but look at me, I turned out alright.” He says quietly, “I chose to be a sinner and now I’m gonna go over there, to the neighbor kids, and make my choice because I’ve got a bullet.”

“You can choose….you can choose not to be.” Brendon manages to choke out, his hands wrapping around his own torso to try and control himself, “Just put it down okay? We can continue hanging out. I’ll be your friend a-and if you want to c-come to my church you can. Yeah, you can.”

“You’re scared. You’re scared and saying these things because you want me to stop. But you don’t mean them.”

“I…I brought you a present. Hey, remember that? I brought you a present. I didn’t have to, hey remember? I stopped by before I came here. I chose to do that. I chose to stay when you left. It’s all a choice. You’re right. It is a choice.”

“You got me a present.” There’s a sad smile on his face again, “What is it?”

“Lets go down and open it. Just put the gun down and we can go and open it, okay? Let’s choose to do that.”

“If I do that, you’re going to run away.”

“I won’t. I promise. I promise I won’t.”

“Are you choosing to tell the truth right now?” he asks quietly. Brendon nods silently, his hands shakily wiping his own tears.

“You chose to come…maybe I can be good too right? Maybe I can be good and if I’m good enough maybe someone will choose to love me.”

“Yeah, yeah of course. Of course you can be good. Anyone can be good. Anyone.”

“Can I choose to love?”

“Of course you can. Of course.”

“I believe you, hey I believe you.” And then he’s got that huge smile on his face as he reaches to take the hat off of Brendon’s head and puts it on himself. “Go get the present, we can open it up here okay?”

“Yeah, yeah of course.” He doesn’t need to be told twice before he’s up and bolted out the door, racing down the steps.

Ryan takes a seat against the frame of the bed, a shaky hand pushing the rectangle box beneath the bed. But not before he pulls out the shiny pistol and presses its barrel to the side of his head. “I can choose to love.” He smiles and by doing so, by choosing to love, he isn’t going to hurt anyone.