Defying Gravity
1/1
Ryan was different. He smelled different and did his hair different and walked different and spoke different. He laughed different and cried different and made Brendon feeldifferent. They were closer than the other kids in the class, but their closeness couldn't have been more distant. Ryan didn't get close to any one. He was different like that. The school nurse said he was just gifted. His mothers counsellor said he was just an angsty teenager. Brendon knew he was just different.
"Can I walk you home?"
"But you live on the other side of town, though," Brendon laughed, hitching up his pants that were a size too big.
"I know," he smiled "I want to show you something."
Ryan had never taken any one to the cliff face before. It was really dangerous, in fact, and there were even caution signs plastered to every greying tree trunk. The danger made Ryan feel invincible. He liked that. He knew the other kids would just think he was different. Brendon would understand, A few old oak trees and a rusty swing set lay in their path. The cliff plummeted a few hundred meters down. Ryan had a content smile on his lips and a glow in his eyes.
“I stand up here and pretend I can fly," his voice was almost lost in the windy echo below them.
"You can fly, Ryan," Brendon reassured, resting his head on Ryan's arm. The sun was setting, splattering red and yellow and pink rays piercing the sky around them, glowing like wild fire and it was perfect. Differences aside, Brendon was positive that Ryan was better.
***
Ryans knees were numb from kneeling on the floor of his dads bar area for too long. His different hands held on to different shaped bottles of different poisons. After just half a bottle his words were leaving his mouth in cursive bubble writing, swirling into dainty calligraphic speech frames. There was a throbbing pressure behind his right eye socket and it felt like he was wearing a thin cloth blind fold - everything was just a little bit blurry. Condensation pooled around his fingertips in glistening orbs, sliding stickily down the neck of the emerald bottle when they became too heavy to hold on. That’s how he felt. Heavy. Like he'd been standing in the sun all day. Like he'd been laughing for too long. Like the weight of the sky and the sun and the stars and the moon was all on top of him. He didn't want to be heavy any more. he wanted to defy gravity.
Pulling out his phone, his fingertips skipped across the worn out key pad, typing out the words "I love you" to send to Brendon. His thumb hovered over the 'send' button for what seemed like hours. Brendon pulled up in his car in a matter of minutes. Ryan was going to try to fly.
Brendon remembered driving Ryan to this park once before. He remembered the cliff. The soggy park bench. The empty air. The empty feeling.
“Get away from the edge, Ryan, please.” He was too close. Too close.
“It’s pretty up here.”
“Ryan, please, come back.”
“No!” he half screamed. He wanted this, he chose this. Things could never run parallel like he’d wanted. They could never work. The evening got darker and the air got heavier on his tensing shoulders. He squeezed his eyes shut tight, blocking out everything, even the life-taking view before him. He was sick of being different.
“Ryan, baby, please,” Brendon was 10 feet away, hysterical. He knew this was coming.
“Don’t call me baby, Bren, I don’t need your stupid pet names,” Ryan’s voice was being carried through down into the hollow of the cliff where his body desired to be. His legs pleaded jump. His mind pleaded jump. His heart pleaded him to jump; into Brendon’s arms, and tell him you love him. Ryan would never be good enough. He was always too quiet, too drunk, too insane, too different. Too close.
“Ry, you’re beyond this. I thought you were getting better. I thought I was helping,” Brendon was crying, his pillowy lips were raw from chewing them in anticipation.
Ryan wailed, groaning in frustration, “You didn't help, Brendon, I was never getting better. I’m going to do this, and I’m going to be free,” He was manic. His knee’s trembled and his grin widened, “I’m not going to be ‘different-Ryan’ anymore. I’m going to be free”
“Ry, you’ve always been free – “
“No!” Ryan looked over his shoulder, Brendon was kneeling in the darkness, crying so hard the ground almost shook. Almost. "You told me I could fly, Brendon, do you remember?"
“What do you want from me Ryan?” he whimpered, completely helpless.
“Nothing, Brendon, I don’t want anything from anyone anymore,” his eyes became like big white plates as he stepped back, nausea dancing on the goose bumps on his dry flesh. Brendon’s mouth went to scream ‘no’; to tell him to stop. Words, however, would not give Ryan something to hold onto. His body fell in silence. He hit the ground in silence. And Brendon screamed in silence.
"Can I walk you home?"
"But you live on the other side of town, though," Brendon laughed, hitching up his pants that were a size too big.
"I know," he smiled "I want to show you something."
Ryan had never taken any one to the cliff face before. It was really dangerous, in fact, and there were even caution signs plastered to every greying tree trunk. The danger made Ryan feel invincible. He liked that. He knew the other kids would just think he was different. Brendon would understand, A few old oak trees and a rusty swing set lay in their path. The cliff plummeted a few hundred meters down. Ryan had a content smile on his lips and a glow in his eyes.
“I stand up here and pretend I can fly," his voice was almost lost in the windy echo below them.
"You can fly, Ryan," Brendon reassured, resting his head on Ryan's arm. The sun was setting, splattering red and yellow and pink rays piercing the sky around them, glowing like wild fire and it was perfect. Differences aside, Brendon was positive that Ryan was better.
***
Ryans knees were numb from kneeling on the floor of his dads bar area for too long. His different hands held on to different shaped bottles of different poisons. After just half a bottle his words were leaving his mouth in cursive bubble writing, swirling into dainty calligraphic speech frames. There was a throbbing pressure behind his right eye socket and it felt like he was wearing a thin cloth blind fold - everything was just a little bit blurry. Condensation pooled around his fingertips in glistening orbs, sliding stickily down the neck of the emerald bottle when they became too heavy to hold on. That’s how he felt. Heavy. Like he'd been standing in the sun all day. Like he'd been laughing for too long. Like the weight of the sky and the sun and the stars and the moon was all on top of him. He didn't want to be heavy any more. he wanted to defy gravity.
Pulling out his phone, his fingertips skipped across the worn out key pad, typing out the words "I love you" to send to Brendon. His thumb hovered over the 'send' button for what seemed like hours. Brendon pulled up in his car in a matter of minutes. Ryan was going to try to fly.
Brendon remembered driving Ryan to this park once before. He remembered the cliff. The soggy park bench. The empty air. The empty feeling.
“Get away from the edge, Ryan, please.” He was too close. Too close.
“It’s pretty up here.”
“Ryan, please, come back.”
“No!” he half screamed. He wanted this, he chose this. Things could never run parallel like he’d wanted. They could never work. The evening got darker and the air got heavier on his tensing shoulders. He squeezed his eyes shut tight, blocking out everything, even the life-taking view before him. He was sick of being different.
“Ryan, baby, please,” Brendon was 10 feet away, hysterical. He knew this was coming.
“Don’t call me baby, Bren, I don’t need your stupid pet names,” Ryan’s voice was being carried through down into the hollow of the cliff where his body desired to be. His legs pleaded jump. His mind pleaded jump. His heart pleaded him to jump; into Brendon’s arms, and tell him you love him. Ryan would never be good enough. He was always too quiet, too drunk, too insane, too different. Too close.
“Ry, you’re beyond this. I thought you were getting better. I thought I was helping,” Brendon was crying, his pillowy lips were raw from chewing them in anticipation.
Ryan wailed, groaning in frustration, “You didn't help, Brendon, I was never getting better. I’m going to do this, and I’m going to be free,” He was manic. His knee’s trembled and his grin widened, “I’m not going to be ‘different-Ryan’ anymore. I’m going to be free”
“Ry, you’ve always been free – “
“No!” Ryan looked over his shoulder, Brendon was kneeling in the darkness, crying so hard the ground almost shook. Almost. "You told me I could fly, Brendon, do you remember?"
“What do you want from me Ryan?” he whimpered, completely helpless.
“Nothing, Brendon, I don’t want anything from anyone anymore,” his eyes became like big white plates as he stepped back, nausea dancing on the goose bumps on his dry flesh. Brendon’s mouth went to scream ‘no’; to tell him to stop. Words, however, would not give Ryan something to hold onto. His body fell in silence. He hit the ground in silence. And Brendon screamed in silence.