Drumline
Chapter 1
He tells himself it’s okay. He tells himself it's not going out of control. That he can stop anytime he wants to. That he is able to just get up and walk away from it. He reassures himself while kneeling down, face in a toilet cubicle at an unnamed rest stop. But he's okay. After spilling his entire guts down the toilet, he's feeling fine.
Spencer slowly gets up from the grimy floor, stained yellow, and washes his hands. He checks the mirror once more before walking out. His skin is too pale. There are freckles around his nose and cheeks. They stood out too much. They made him look spotty. His eyes are too small; he thinks his mouth is too pink, too plump. His arms are too big- His everything was big. He feels his stomach; at the roll of baby fat that lines it. He lifts up his shirt and pinches it between his thumb and index finger. With his untrimmed nails, he pierces his skin. It doesn't work, of course, but he feels the sting of it. It calms him down; the pain. It lets him focus on why he’s doing it. Why he’s curing himself. Just as he was about to twist his wrist, the toilet door opens and a huge man, tall and broad, walks in. The man cocks his eyebrow at this new revelation in front of him. Quick as lightning, Spencer pulled down his too-small girls shirt and walked away.
He gets up on the bus in silence. The rest were already seated and waiting. Once he steps in, he feels the rolling motions of the bus. He places himself down between Ryan and Brent, his arm going past Ryan's head to play with Brendon's hair. They were watching a movie; Drum line. Spencer hooks one leg over Brent's and tries to settle himself into this impromptu cuddle pile.
"Dude, Man. You reek." Spencer twists his neck to face Brent on his left. He could see the hint of a smile from behind those eyes and he tries to hide his own fake grin.
"Oh sorry man; must be from sucking your mom off." He deserves the mock shove he got. Brendon on the far side snorts. Spencer grins, predatory style, and turns his attention back to the movie, not minding Brent playing with the ankle hem of his jeans.
A slight movement by his side makes him turn. Spencer regrets the moment he did because he has eye contact with Ryan's huge glassy brown orbs. Those eyes watch him and Spencer cannot look away. He just gazes into those pretty, now calculating eyes and he wishes with every nuance of his heart that Ryan could read minds. Ryan was staring at him as if to say he knew something. He was about to figure a huge secret out, but it was just flitting away from his grasp.
At that moment, he wants Ryan to know everything. He wants Ryan to help him stop himself from wasting away; from being a bulimic. He wants Ryan to save him, as cliché and stupid as he sounds, because Spencer cannot keep telling himself he has control. He knows somewhere deep down, from a long time ago, that he lost control the first time he stuck a finger down his throat and liked it.
Ryan gets him. After forever and a day of staring at each other, Ryan gets it and looks away. For that one split second, Spencer fears that maybe Ryan has given up on him. He irrationally fears that Ryan is not able to save him because Spencer is not Spencer anymore. Spencer isn’t that strength that held them grounded. He’s coming loose- the threads of his sanity, of his psyche; is unravelling. He remembers a time from before when he was still reliable. When he still was Ryan’s string, albeit fraying a bit, that kept him in touch with reality.
***
"Spencer, door!” Crystal calls out.
He grumbles but obligingly leaves his room to go to the door. When he opens it, he sees that Ryan was waiting outside, eyes downcast, in a baseball cap, black jersey and blue baggy jeans. Spencer doesn’t talk. He waits for Ryan to look up and when he does, Spencer just moves aside to let him in. Neither one of them says anything. Ryan jogs up the steps to Spencer’s room, with Spencer himself trailing behind, pausing to call out to his mother to please set another chair out for Ryan.
When he opens his room door, Ryan was perusing his CD collection. Spencer doesn’t say anything; just flops down on his bed and watches Ryan move about, one eyebrow cocked. He crosses his legs so he has to squint his eyes a bit to see Ryan, head lifted up to an angle from his pillow. Seconds tick by; minutes trickle past. There is silence in the room. Spencer knows Ryan has gone through every one of his CDs before but he doesn’t call out Ryan’s bluff. It’s just Ryan’s laboured breathing, trying to hold onto control that fills the room. It’s only Ryan’s statue form that Spencer sees. His eyes bore holes into Ryan’s back but for the longest time, Ryan does not say anything.
“I don’t wanna go back,” Ryan whispers so softly. Spencer thanks the Saints for his ability to tune in to his best friend sometimes.
“I know.” And Ryan knows Spencer knows. Ryan knows Spencer’s not saying it out of self pity. Ryan knows Spencer gets him. Spencer understands the weight behind such words, the loss of control for him to say that. And however fucked up it may seem, Spencer knows that Ryan knows that he understands. He feels a warm gush of pride at himself for that.
But for now, it’s not him that needs the praise or the taking care of. It’s Ryan he has to take care of. So he does. Wrapping his arms against the older but smaller boy, Spencer breathes through his nose as Ryan’s head rest against his shoulder, his hair tickling his cheek. It takes a while but slowly, Spencer could feel the bony arms wrap around him. He could sense the need for support through his embrace. Spencer doesn’t do anything besides keep his hand on Ryan’s back. He lets Ryan push to fit into his every curve. He knows Ryan needs this. Ryan has to find the warmth. It’s his way of staying strong.
***
Spencer wants to shake Ryan so that Ryan understands that Spencer needs him- because truly, Spencer doesn’t need anyone else to help him. He just needs Ryan. It was then he realised he needs no one else. It was always Ryan; since he was five and maybe until he became seventy-five.
And the revelation hits him so fast and hard, Spencer feels like crying out to Ryan. He just wants Ryan to look at him, to at least tell him it will all be okay. He wills Ryan to turn to him, he wants to see more than just Ryan’s profile. He needs Ryan. Spencer feels tears spring up in his blue eyes and wants to wipe them off but his hand is still limp around Brendon, cornered by Ryan’s own body that held it there.
And then Ryan holds his left hand between them and squeezes it ever so tightly in his own way and Spencer doesn't fear anymore. He just sits, sprawled across bodies and watches the movie, head against Brent's and smiles.
It’s his first real honest smile for days.
Spencer slowly gets up from the grimy floor, stained yellow, and washes his hands. He checks the mirror once more before walking out. His skin is too pale. There are freckles around his nose and cheeks. They stood out too much. They made him look spotty. His eyes are too small; he thinks his mouth is too pink, too plump. His arms are too big- His everything was big. He feels his stomach; at the roll of baby fat that lines it. He lifts up his shirt and pinches it between his thumb and index finger. With his untrimmed nails, he pierces his skin. It doesn't work, of course, but he feels the sting of it. It calms him down; the pain. It lets him focus on why he’s doing it. Why he’s curing himself. Just as he was about to twist his wrist, the toilet door opens and a huge man, tall and broad, walks in. The man cocks his eyebrow at this new revelation in front of him. Quick as lightning, Spencer pulled down his too-small girls shirt and walked away.
He gets up on the bus in silence. The rest were already seated and waiting. Once he steps in, he feels the rolling motions of the bus. He places himself down between Ryan and Brent, his arm going past Ryan's head to play with Brendon's hair. They were watching a movie; Drum line. Spencer hooks one leg over Brent's and tries to settle himself into this impromptu cuddle pile.
"Dude, Man. You reek." Spencer twists his neck to face Brent on his left. He could see the hint of a smile from behind those eyes and he tries to hide his own fake grin.
"Oh sorry man; must be from sucking your mom off." He deserves the mock shove he got. Brendon on the far side snorts. Spencer grins, predatory style, and turns his attention back to the movie, not minding Brent playing with the ankle hem of his jeans.
A slight movement by his side makes him turn. Spencer regrets the moment he did because he has eye contact with Ryan's huge glassy brown orbs. Those eyes watch him and Spencer cannot look away. He just gazes into those pretty, now calculating eyes and he wishes with every nuance of his heart that Ryan could read minds. Ryan was staring at him as if to say he knew something. He was about to figure a huge secret out, but it was just flitting away from his grasp.
At that moment, he wants Ryan to know everything. He wants Ryan to help him stop himself from wasting away; from being a bulimic. He wants Ryan to save him, as cliché and stupid as he sounds, because Spencer cannot keep telling himself he has control. He knows somewhere deep down, from a long time ago, that he lost control the first time he stuck a finger down his throat and liked it.
Ryan gets him. After forever and a day of staring at each other, Ryan gets it and looks away. For that one split second, Spencer fears that maybe Ryan has given up on him. He irrationally fears that Ryan is not able to save him because Spencer is not Spencer anymore. Spencer isn’t that strength that held them grounded. He’s coming loose- the threads of his sanity, of his psyche; is unravelling. He remembers a time from before when he was still reliable. When he still was Ryan’s string, albeit fraying a bit, that kept him in touch with reality.
***
"Spencer, door!” Crystal calls out.
He grumbles but obligingly leaves his room to go to the door. When he opens it, he sees that Ryan was waiting outside, eyes downcast, in a baseball cap, black jersey and blue baggy jeans. Spencer doesn’t talk. He waits for Ryan to look up and when he does, Spencer just moves aside to let him in. Neither one of them says anything. Ryan jogs up the steps to Spencer’s room, with Spencer himself trailing behind, pausing to call out to his mother to please set another chair out for Ryan.
When he opens his room door, Ryan was perusing his CD collection. Spencer doesn’t say anything; just flops down on his bed and watches Ryan move about, one eyebrow cocked. He crosses his legs so he has to squint his eyes a bit to see Ryan, head lifted up to an angle from his pillow. Seconds tick by; minutes trickle past. There is silence in the room. Spencer knows Ryan has gone through every one of his CDs before but he doesn’t call out Ryan’s bluff. It’s just Ryan’s laboured breathing, trying to hold onto control that fills the room. It’s only Ryan’s statue form that Spencer sees. His eyes bore holes into Ryan’s back but for the longest time, Ryan does not say anything.
“I don’t wanna go back,” Ryan whispers so softly. Spencer thanks the Saints for his ability to tune in to his best friend sometimes.
“I know.” And Ryan knows Spencer knows. Ryan knows Spencer’s not saying it out of self pity. Ryan knows Spencer gets him. Spencer understands the weight behind such words, the loss of control for him to say that. And however fucked up it may seem, Spencer knows that Ryan knows that he understands. He feels a warm gush of pride at himself for that.
But for now, it’s not him that needs the praise or the taking care of. It’s Ryan he has to take care of. So he does. Wrapping his arms against the older but smaller boy, Spencer breathes through his nose as Ryan’s head rest against his shoulder, his hair tickling his cheek. It takes a while but slowly, Spencer could feel the bony arms wrap around him. He could sense the need for support through his embrace. Spencer doesn’t do anything besides keep his hand on Ryan’s back. He lets Ryan push to fit into his every curve. He knows Ryan needs this. Ryan has to find the warmth. It’s his way of staying strong.
***
Spencer wants to shake Ryan so that Ryan understands that Spencer needs him- because truly, Spencer doesn’t need anyone else to help him. He just needs Ryan. It was then he realised he needs no one else. It was always Ryan; since he was five and maybe until he became seventy-five.
And the revelation hits him so fast and hard, Spencer feels like crying out to Ryan. He just wants Ryan to look at him, to at least tell him it will all be okay. He wills Ryan to turn to him, he wants to see more than just Ryan’s profile. He needs Ryan. Spencer feels tears spring up in his blue eyes and wants to wipe them off but his hand is still limp around Brendon, cornered by Ryan’s own body that held it there.
And then Ryan holds his left hand between them and squeezes it ever so tightly in his own way and Spencer doesn't fear anymore. He just sits, sprawled across bodies and watches the movie, head against Brent's and smiles.
It’s his first real honest smile for days.