Something To Talk About

About 10 minutes after locking myself into my room, there was an apprehensive knock at the door.

I had thrown myself face down into the giant fluffy down quilt on my bed as soon as I had closed the door, and thats where I was still laying, so he wasnt exactly interrupting anything of great importance.

I pushed myself off the bed and pulled the door open slowly.

"Hi," Ryan mumbled sheepishly, looking embarrassed, "I'm sorry."

"It's alright," I looked at the floor, trying my best to ignore both the sincerity in his eyes and the alcohol on his breath.

"I didnt mean to yell at you..." He apologized again, "I guess I'm just... I'm not myself."

"S'okay," I shrugged one shoulder, still not looking up at him.

"Can um..." He cleared his throat, "Can we talk, Danya?"

"Yeah," I opened my door the rest of the way, inviting him in and he followed my lead, lying sideways across the bed next to me, "What happened tonight, Ryan?"

"I talked to her," He sighed, "Finally."

"I take it your talk didnt go over the way you hoped?"

"Not exactly, no," He rolled onto his stomach and looked over at me, but I stayed face up, stealing an occasional glance in his direction, waiting.

"She left," He finally confessed in a half-hearted whisper, "She left and flew home."

"Oh Ryan," I breathed and had to look at him, "I'm so sorry."

He shook his head and pushed himself up, so I sat up too and reached for his hand, holding it tightly in both of mine.

"Is it like..." I mumbled, then paused, not really wanting to finish my thought as he look at me again with those watery eyes.

"Over." He finished for me and the single word caught in his throat.

I bit my lip and looked down at our hands.

His pale one was much larger than mine yet also much thinner. He knuckles stuck out sharply and his long boney fingers were rough and callused from the guitar.

"I dont think shes coming back," He said, groaning at the ceiling, "I'm such a fucking idiot."

"No..." I assured him gently, "You're not, Ryan. Not at all."

"I tried to tell her I didn't like it when she came home drunk," He began, "I tried to explain about my dad and that it just... It scared me... That she drank so much all the time. But she just got upset, and then I got upset that she wouldn't listen."

"She should have listened," I interjected weakly and he nodded.

"But I yelled at her. I got so mad, and she did too," He shook his head, "She said I should just run off and disappear for the night again with you. That was the first time I really thought about it, but I guess she actually thinks I've been cheating on her."

All I could do was raise my eyebrows in (almost) surprise at this as he continued.

"I felt so bad when I realized that's what she thought, but I was still so pissed off, and I just yelled at her that of course I'm not cheating but at least you listen to what I have to say, and at least you give a shit about me and how I feel. At least we aren't just friends because you think you can gain something by knowing me... Not like her."

I sucked in a breath and let out a soft, remorseful, 'Oh...'

"That was when she left. She said she didn't need me anyways," He laughed dryly, "And it's true, she's got Paris now, who needs Ryan Ross?"

"I dunno, man... Paris vs Ryan Ross. That's kind of a tie," I tried to lighten the situation a bit, "I mean, think about it... You'd probably look about the same in a dress."

He shot me a mostly annoyed but partly amused glare and I smiled.

"I bet the two of you could give the Olsen twins a run for their money..."

"Danya..." He let the 'uh' drag out of his lips as he sighed and fell back onto the bed again, "Be serious."

"Alright, alright," I sighed and crawled over next to him, "If she was so sure you were cheating on her, why didnt she say anything?"

"I dont know," He shook his head, annoyed, "Ugh! I dont even want to think about her!"

"Just like that?" I wondered softly.

"We just didnt match," He tried to shrug like it wasnt a big deal and like he hadnt been completely torn up about it moments earlier, "We're just too different."

"You just didnt match?" I repeated.

"Mhmm."

"Just too different?" I asked.

"That's right."

I searched his face for a moment and reached up, brushing back a slightly longer (at least for him) lock of hair, but it fell right back to where it had been a second before.

"So then, what possessed you to down almost an entire bottle of Fireball, Ryan?" I asked cautiously, choosing to study a cracked cuticle instead of his face.

He didnt say anything for a long time and when I finally forced myself to look up at him again, his face was all blotchy and his cheeks were wet. He was crying.

"Ryan!" I gasped and instinctually pulled him up and wrapped my arms around his slender body.

He held me back for a few minutes and rested his cheek on my shoulder as he did so. Even though I felt unbelievably awkward, I didnt pull away and he let out a sharp breath, whispering in my ear.

"I dont even know why I drank tonight."