Unhinged

The first time William ever says it, Ryland is sitting on his bed in his dark room. They’re freshly seventeen, one year closer to graduating and moving the fuck on. Which fuels most of Ryland’s self-hatred angst. He doesn’t have a good reason for this at all. He tastes copper in the back of his mouth.

“Ry,” William starts. Then he stops. He opens his mouth like he’s going to try again but his brows furrow. Ryland just looks at him from his spot on the bed. William tries again by repeating Ryland’s name but—

“Stop saying my fucking name like that,” Ryland snaps. He doesn’t want to be angry. Especially not over William just saying his name, but he says it like he’s approaching an upset child. A wild animal. He’s not saying Ryland’s name like he normally does. Ryland can’t stand the way he sounds like nails on a chalkboard. But this is his best friend and he just can’t stand it.

William casts a disdainful look at Ryland. “It’s your name. What would you rather me call you?”

“It’s not the fact that you’re saying it but how you’re saying it. Like my grandmother just died.”

William just looks at him. Simply looks at him. Which doesn’t help the problem and actually pisses Ryland off more. It feels like William is just aiming to annoy him more when he says, “Ry.”

“Go home, William. I didn’t even want you here.”

William bristles and his shoulders tighten. Ryland’s done this before and he’ll do it again. He knows that William’s reaction isn’t from surprise but from offense that he’s doing it at all, to him of all people. But he gives Ryland what he wants and stands up. “Always crashing in the same car, Ryland.”

Ryland is worse than Ry, and he just makes this god awful face at William.

*

The second time he says it, Ryland is sitting outside on the porch. They’re a week away from graduation and his parents won’t fucking stop screaming at each other. He’s tearing his acceptance letter into pieces when William sits next to him. His mouth tastes sour.

“Hey,” William says. Ryland casts him an incredulous look but he just stares back at him. “Why are you doing that?”

“My parents are fighting over money again.”

William makes a seemingly uncommitted noise, kind of like a cross between ‘ah’ and a hum. “That sucks.”

“Because of college,” Ryland adds. He clenches his fist around his torn up letter. “I’m not going.”

William briefly glances his way. “Yes you are.”

Ryland bristles now. The feeling in his chest is more annoyance. “No William, I’m not.”

“Your parents are always going to fight, Ry. That’s just how they are. They’ve been fighting since we met. If they want to fight over money, that’s on them. The responsibility ends up being yours anyway.” William leans against his knees to look at him. He can tell that Ryland’s irritation still hasn’t eased by his face. “Fine. You’re going because I am.”

Ryland is surprised. “Am I?”

“Yes,” William answers, leaning back again. “I keep you sane. You’d probably have killed yourself by now without me. I keep you from making a crash test dummy out of yourself.”

Ryland’s brows quirk. He has no fucking idea what William is on about, but he’s not inclined to disagree.

*

The third time he says it, Ryland is standing on a bridge. They’re eighteen, graduated, and trying to find something to do with themselves before the summer is over. Ryland’s just accepted his self-hatred now. He’s also accepted that whenever this happens, it’s like he has a mouthful of pennies.

And he’s looking down over the rail. He’s not really considering jumping, but he’s humoring the concept.

William is the first to break the heavy silence. “What are you doing?”

“I don’t know.” Ryland kind of moves his shoulders in a way that could’ve been a lazy shrug, but neither of them are sure. William’s standing there, staring at Ryland and his fingers twitch. It takes Ryland another moment before he finally drags his gaze to William. “I don’t know, Wiley.”

“Don’t call me that. I really hate it and you know it.”

Ryland looks at William as the wind blows through. He smiles kind of wistfully. “I’m convinced it’ll grow on you one of these days.”

“I highly doubt it.” And if Ryland didn’t know William as well as he did, he could have mistaken William’s tone as blank and indifferent. Ryland doubts it too.

“William, I—”

“Don’t.” William isn’t looking at Ryland anymore, he’s looking at the same spot Ryland was. The abrupt cut makes Ryland wince. He puts his head back down and stares at the water. He has the sickening sensation of actually falling now. It gets worse when William continues, “You’re my best friend, you know this, but you’re always crashing, Ry. Don’t take me with you.”

“Is this a Bowie thing?”

William’s face just twists into something uncharacteristic. A scowl. “Don’t.”

Ryland opens his mouth but there’s nothing he has to say. William just goes home and Ryland supposes that he just trusts that Ryland isn’t stupid enough to take a swan dive off the bridge.

*

The fourth time he says it, Ryland’s laying down on his back with his head hanging upside down between the large gaps in the railing of his balcony. They’re almost nineteen and barely have survived their first year at college. Ryland hates his roommate, and thinks about both sleeping pills and William equally. It’s a fucking disaster. So now he’s staring at the city upside down twelve floors up.

“Well that doesn’t look comfortable,” William comments when he shows up.

“It’s not.” The concrete edge is digging into Ryland’s neck but fuck if he’s going to move now.

He feels William’s fingers around his ankles and it doesn’t register what he’s doing until Ryland’s shirt rides up his back against the concrete when William drags him down some. It’s actually an uncomfortable scrape and heat against his skin. And now his head is on the floor instead of suspended and he’s looking up at William, half blinded by the sun.

“You’re an idiot, Ryland.”

Ryland’s brows pull together. He doesn’t know if he’s put off by William’s tone or the fact that he called him Ryland. He’s so confused that it doesn’t even cross his mind to be annoyed about it. “Thanks?”

They just stare at each other for a long moment before William recoils. Ryland has the vaguest impression that he’s walling himself off. “You promised to go to the movies with me today. This is what you do when you bail on me?” Ryland opens his mouth but William cuts him off, “Get up. Just get up.”

His voice is so sharp that Ryland actually gets up before he’s really thinking about it. He’s about two or three inches taller than William. So there’s not much looking up or looking down for either of them. William only raises his eyes to Ryland before he shakes his head. Ryland starts, “I don’t—”

“No.” It’s louder than Ryland anticipated. Even William cringes at the loudness of his own voice. But he still repeats himself, “No. You promised. You fucking promised.”

“You told me not to—”

“No.” His voice is softer now and it echoes more than his curt volume. “You’re my best friend. Always crashing in the same car and I just watch.” Ryland thinks that maybe he’s talking more so to himself than Ryland. But then William reaches out to straighten Ryland’s shirt in a jerk and Ryland makes a noise without meaning to. It’s caught between surprise and relief. William grits out between his teeth as he stares at Ryland’s chest, his hands still balled in his t-shirt. “And I want to go to the movies with you.”

“Okay,” Ryland whispers. He wraps his hands around William’s shoulders. His throat hurts. “Okay.”

*

The fifth time he says it, Ryland is planning a cross-country road trip instead of how to get through sophomore year. They’re nineteen and school starts in three weeks. Ryland has spent most of summer doing nothing despite William’s efforts. William gave him this space. But now it’s too far.

“I don’t really think you should be doing this,” William says from Ryland’s bed. It doesn’t sound like he’s against it either though. More like he’s just giving advice.

But Ryland doesn’t think he needs it. “I think this is my best plan yet honestly.”

“That’s debatable.”

Then Ryland finally hears it. He hears the displeasure. The aggravation. The concern. He whips around in his desk chair and looks at William. William stares back at him, cross-legged in the middle of his bed. “You don’t want me to do this.”

“No, I don’t. You don’t have the money or the resources to do this.” He doesn’t say why he actually thinks it’s a bad idea. “And I can’t go with you if you do it.” There’s another pause between them. Ryland keeps staring at William, waiting. Then William says it, “And where are you going to get your meds?”

“This isn’t—it’s not—”

“Yes, Ry. It is.” William cocks his head slightly. Ryland’s fingers grip onto his chair handles. “It’s going to pass and you’re going to be halfway through Wyoming when it does. It’s not the time yet.”

A strange feeling racks up in Ryland’s chest. It almost feels like tears. It’s hard to swallow around because he knows William is right. And even though he seems nonchalant, Ryland knows that William would sooner tackle him and handcuff him to his desk than actually let him go. It adds another level of frustration though. Ryland starts fidgeting with his laptop. “You’re not my mother. I can do this if I want.”

“Ryland.” He stops typing. William’s tone is pleading finally. Neither of them move. “Please don’t do this. It’ll be another crash and you know it. Stay here with me for now.”

Ryland just closes his eyes.

*

The sixth time he says it, Ryland feels like his entire fucking world is falling apart. He wants to punch something. They’re very nearly twenty, it’s spring break, and Ryland can’t spend another goddamn moment in the city. He’s tired of pretending everything is fine. Nothing is fine and he hates himself more for it.

And the fight with William starts with a loud crash.

At first, his anger and frustrations aren’t even directed at William. William knows this. He just so happens to be there at the height of Ryland’s elevated mood. So he listens to Ryland slam doors and cabinets in his anger with how shitty his day has been. He listens to Ryland attempt to make coffee with shaking hands and he listens to him drop the spoon, igniting a whole new burst of irrational anger.

William doesn’t even really respond and this somehow pisses Ryland off more. “You don’t have to fucking babysit me. I’m not fucking sixteen anymore.” William eyes Ryland in such a way that he kind of thinks that is what William is seeing right now. “Oh, fuck off, William.”

“You’re a very self-destructive person, aren’t you?”

The sarcasm doesn’t escape Ryland’s attention. It feels like fire under his skin though. “I didn’t ask you to be here. I never fucking ask you to be here when shit happens. You just are. You make that decision and if you’re not happy with it, that’s on you. The door’s right there.”

William’s shoulders are taut with a tangible tension and his jaw is clenched. But he still tries very hard to even his voice out when he says, “You need me or else you’d destroy yourself.”

“What if that’s what I fucking want, William?”

“You don’t.” He can hear a quiver in William’s faux-calm composure. “You’ll ruin everything.”

Ryland’s voice pitches higher into a yell. “And who the fuck are you to make that decision for me?”

William finally snaps when he lurches up off the couch to stand even with Ryland. “I’m not! You make that decision for yourself! It’s not like I can physically fucking stop you from launching off a skyscraper or taking all your meds in one go or taking a dive into the river! You do that all by yourself! You just keep fucking going in circles with yourself because you can’t help but crash in the same car.”

“Stop fucking saying that! Stop saying that. I fucking hate when you say that!” Ryland’s whole body hurts and he almost pitches forward. “I hate when you say that.”

William doesn’t say anything else and there’s nothing physical between them, but it feels like there’s a huge, two-foot wide wall. Ryland feels like he’s breaking his other half. The tension in his stomach feels like more than anger and they both just fucking stare at each other with this gap between them.

Then it’s Ryland that jerks forward first, but it’s William’s sway that actually creates the crashing motion of it. William’s teeth hurt Ryland’s mouth, but Ryland’s hands hurt in William’s hair. And Ryland’s pretty sure that he’s never actually kissed someone so angrily and so desperately in his entire life. He wants to bite. He wants the push and pull of William’s entire being.

“Ry—Ry, don’t—” William’s voice cracks and they’re both falling backwards into the couch. Ryland could fuel the rest of his fucking life on the tongue-to-roof noise William accidentally makes when Ryland lines himself against him. Edges to edges. William’s hands get caught up Ryland’s hair as his wander to the edge of William’s jeans. “Ryland,” he breathes. It sounds like a warning and a plea.

For a hazy moment, Ryland just rocks his entire body into William, hips grinding together with a painful strain. Then he realizes what William is doing. “I’m—”

“Crashing,” William says, but it’s so inaudible that he might as well had mouthed it against Ryland’s jaw. He feels William’s hand in his back pocket.

“You have an infuriating talent of always fucking cutting me off,” Ryland grits out. And he’s hovering over William on his hands, knees braced so there’s at least an inch of space between them. He can feel the barely-there pressure of William’s knees against his hips. The tension in his stomach feels restless now. Desperate. He feels so fraught that it’s bordering somewhat nauseous. “Tell me what to do.”

“Not…” There’s a weird moment where William doesn’t actually know what he wants Ryland to do. Ryland knows it because he shifts his hips up and his hand is still in Ryland’s back pocket. Then William starts shaking his head, pulling his hand out. And Ryland flinches. “Not this. Not like this.”

Ryland’s breathes in brokenly. “Like this?”

“This is crashing, Ryland. This is you crashing your stupid car again. I’m not your wall.”

Ryland opens his mouth to ask him what the fuck he even means, but William starts pulling himself out from under Ryland so he doesn’t. He just sits back on his knees. He doesn’t even bother to try and smooth himself out like William is. He has half the mind to tell William that he’s not going to be able to fix his hair, but William picks his hips up to fix his jeans and button them. Ryland feels sick.

“William,” he starts. His body fucking hurts. He feels like he’s trembling in his tension. He might be.

“Don’t. We don’t even have to talk about it ever again.”

He wants to, but he keeps his mouth shut because William looks like he’s about to cry.

Ryland ends up punching a wall instead.

*

The seventh time he says it, Ryland is too drunk. So drunk that William already knows he won’t remember anything and everything is covered in neon. They’re in-between twenty and twenty-one and on summer break. Ryland doesn’t think his anger has gone away since the day he collided into William. He’s had the taste of blood in his mouth for months so he tried vodka and rum.

“Ry, come on, you’re—” William’s sentence dies with a grunt as Ryland flops onto the couch, half on top of William. “Ry, Jesus.” Ryland just leans into William more, the weight of his arms pulling on William’s tense shoulders. “Come on, you’re drunk. Let’s get you home.”

“I’m not drunk,” Ryland declares. His face is just about in the curve of William’s neck. He can smell alcohol and sweat and fading cologne and the lingering of William’s shampoo. “Not drunk.”

“No, you’re the most sober I’ve ever seen you.”

Ryland grins. His head rolls on William’s shoulder. He feels William stiffen a fraction more when his mouth touches his skin. His teeth almost scrapes against it when he says, “Hundred percent.”

William is shifting his shoulder away from Ryland when he mutters, “Yeah, in alcohol levels. Come on.” William starts to untangle himself from Ryland. Then he starts to stand up, attempting to heave Ryland up with him by his shirt. “Ry, goddammit, work with me.”

“I miss you,” Ryland says instead. He purposefully drops his weight back into the couch. William just simply can’t fucking manhandle Ryland so he lets his shirt go and just crosses his arms.

“I haven’t gone anywhere.” Ryland shakes his head with his eyes closed. William almost thinks he’s about to fall asleep when he sits straight up suddenly. Then William sees that determined glint in his eyes. He knows so he stops him. “I don’t want to talk about this, Ryland. We’re not talking about this. I haven’t gone anywhere. I’m not going anywhere. But you’re drunk and you need to go home.”

Ryland kind of squints. “Are you going to tell me I’m crashing in my car again?”

William opens his mouth. But he just sighs instead. “Yeah, but that’s just who you are.”

“Are you the car?”

“No, Ry, I’m not the car. Come on.” This time, William manages to get Ryland off the couch, even though it means that Ryland is practically draped over him.

Ryland only remembers the falling sensation into his bed, William hovering above him in the dark on his hands because Ryland had brought him down with him. He remembers the soft ‘no’ and the cold. He wishes that it hadn’t started wearing off by then because it’s the one thing he doesn’t want to remember.

He’s still wearing his shoes in the morning.

*

The eighth time he says it, Ryland is hell-bent on destroying something. Preferably himself. But if William keeps intervening, he’s pretty sure he’s taking William down with him with his fucking fists. It’s only been two weeks since the drunk incident but it’s getting worse. Now he’s worse.

It starts with another argument. One that Ryland starts. But because Ryland and William both remember at the same time how their last one ended, they both end up bailing halfway through. So now Ryland has some unsaid shit on his mind. He’s been watching William across the room all night. William doesn’t really even glance his way when Ryland’s pretty sure he knows that he’s there.

Ryland doesn’t actually know what the fuck his plan is. He just wants to destroy something.

He doesn’t even know why it hurts so much. William isn’t his boyfriend. But he’s fucking disengaged.

“My name is Lucas.”

Ryland says against his ear, “Ry.”

The room is semi-dark. Ryland knows that they should move off the couch but now he just can’t. Lucas smells like tequila when he gets closer. Ryland fucking hates tequila. But he wants to break something. Then he thinks that maybe William shouldn’t see him like this.

But as Ryland stands, his eyes absentmindedly find William and William is looking at him. Everything in his body comes to a startling halt. William yanked the emergency brake. He blinks and William’s there. He blinks and William’s pulling him away by his shirt. He blinks and they’re outside. “You don’t want to do this. You’re going to hurt someone.” William’s face twists. “Other than yourself.”

“You make it sound like I was going to murder him. It would’ve been one time.”

William’s teeth clench. “Don’t do this.”

“You always tell me not to do shit.”

“Because I know you. The feeling will pass. It always fucking passes without you having some self-destructive fuck.” His words are weighted, Ryland realizes belatedly. “Let’s go home.”

“Why?” Ryland asks distantly.

“Because you’re not you right now. You haven’t been you for weeks.” William turns around to look at Ryland. “It’s going to pass. The mania always passes. You don’t have to do this.”

He hates how William doesn’t have to say it word by word anymore. It’s in all his other words.

Always crashing in the same car.

*

The ninth time he says it, Ryland is sitting on the hood of his car watching a storm come in. It reminds him of when they were sixteen. When they had some strange mutual obsession with amateur storm chasing. Now they’re approaching twenty-one and coming closer to graduation again. It feels like it’s been the worst few years of Ryland’s life. Which he never thought he’d say after high school.

“Hey,” William mutters, climbing up to sit next to Ryland quietly. “Feeling self-destructive again?”

“What?” Ryland turns his head, brows twitching. He doesn’t think he’s being very actively destructive right now but he’ll give it to William. Ryland without his caustic behavior, dormant or not, isn’t really Ryland. Maybe it doesn’t need to be all there for William to see it in his eyes.

But William gestures towards the storm front ahead of them with a slight smile. So Ryland realizes that he missed the joke. “Lightning strike?”

Ryland actually cracks a smile. “Sure. I thought it’d be fun.”

“I think our definitions of ‘fun’ are different, but okay.”

William pulls his legs up to wrap his arms around his knees. But when Ryland looks at him, William’s looking ahead. He hasn’t really been looking at Ryland much for the past year. It’s always been fleeting glances. Ryland can safely say they haven’t had a stare down since that one night. But it might be for the best. He just also misses it because it’s how they’ve communicated with each other since they were fifteen. They’ve been mirroring each other for six years.

But William has kept his promise unconditionally. It’s been almost a year and they haven’t talked about it since. Even with Ryland’s latest shit. It’s very nearly like it never happened, but Ryland knows that no matter how blurry the memory gets, he couldn’t imagine that.

There’s no way in all hell that he’d ever be able to conjure up the feeling of William’s body aligned with his in his imagination. Or that frustrated, throaty sound William made out of sheer relief when Ryland moved. The fact that Ryland thinks about it a lot keeps it fresh.

If anything ignites Ryland’s tendencies, it’s the feeling in the pit of his stomach when he thinks about William now. He wishes it was as lazy as when he also thought about sleeping pills years ago.

The storm is practically on top of them now, low thunder and distant lightning flashes.

“William, I’m—” And apparently it’s not just William that’s good at cutting Ryland off. It starts raining hard without any warning.

William makes a noise and scrambles off the hood of the car to get into the backseat. Ryland almost wants to laugh but he just takes his time sliding down and getting into the passenger seat because he hates getting the driver’s seat wet. He just watches the rain for a while.

“What were you going to say?” William finally asks.

Ryland sucks a breath between his teeth. “Just that…I’m sorry.”

William isn’t getting it. “For what?”

He almost says “for ruining myself like you always said I would”, but he’s a coward. “For being a shitty best friend for six years.”

William is dead silent. Ryland thinks that the conversation is already over so he starts fiddling with things. He even considers asking William if he wants him to drive him home now. Then he feels William’s fist in his shirt, pulling him backwards. It’s an awkward fit but Ryland manages to twist enough to crawl over the console into the back with him.

“You’re not a shitty best friend.” William starts pulling Ryland’s t-shirt down again. He’s done this since they were fifteen. He always tries to straighten the wrinkles in Ryland’s clothes when he doesn’t want to look at Ryland. It’s worse right now because Ryland’s shirt is damp. “You’re not. You’re just…unhinged. But I don’t mind. I’ve never minded. I just never wanted to be your barrier.”

Ryland looks at William even though he’s focused on Ryland’s t-shirt. They’re both quiet in the rain. William’s hands are still in Ryland’s shirt though and Ryland breaks. “William.”

He hears William’s breath hitch and he stops. “Don’t do that. Don’t say my name like that.”

Ryland reaches out for William and he feels like a planet with the way William moves with him absentmindedly. He thinks that this is how love is supposed to feel. Like magnets, like an ebb and flow, like fucking stars aligning. If he’s in love, he’s been this way for six goddamn years.

William ends up in his lap, knees pressed into his hips and fingers against Ryland’s collar. “I don’t—”

“You’re not my wall,” Ryland whispers. “I’m not crashing.”

“You always crash, Ry. You’re always going to crash. It’s not your fault, it just is.”

“I’m not right now.”

“You’re—”

“Stop talking.”

It’s another tongue-to-roof, desperate whine in William’s throat when Ryland kisses him. Ryland shudders and William’s hips roll forward, but neither of them know if Ryland pulled them or William moved on his own accord. Maybe both. It’s the same as it’ll ever be nonetheless. Just less teeth clashing this time.

*

But then when William says it for a tenth time, Ryland is laying on his back in the middle of the bed with William sitting on both sides of his hips. They’re twenty-one and they’ve graduated. Ryland is exhausted. Like four years of shit caught up with him in one fell swoop. He feels distant. And tastes faint copper.

He was already laying on the bed when William got home. He had briefly opened his eyes to look at William as he was shifting to straddle Ryland, but now they’ve been in this position for what feels like an hour. It’s probably only been about fifteen minutes.

“Ry,” William starts. Then he stops. He opens his mouth like he’s going to try again, but his brows furrow. Ryland’s eyes stayed closed, feeling William’s jean clad knees brushing against his bare skin as his shirt rides up. William tries again. His tone is leaking into something else. “Ry.”

Ryland opens his eyes to look at him. “I’m here.”

“Those kilometers and the red lights,” William says.

If Ryland didn’t know William better than he knew himself, he wouldn’t be able to hear past the casual indifference. But he does. “Yeah, I’m always crashing in the same car. I know.” His fingers slip under William’s shirt. He spreads his fingers around William’s ribcage to pull him down. “You’re not my wall.”

“Hotel garage.” William makes a noise in his chest after his lazy correction. Ryland’s hands are almost cold. “So what’s that make me then, Ryland? Your airbags?”

Ryland kind of just grins because he gets it now. “My brakes.”