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*•.¸♡ 𝚈𝚘𝚞 𝚍𝚛𝚎𝚠 𝚜𝚝𝚊𝚛𝚜 𝚊𝚛𝚘𝚞𝚗𝚍 𝚖𝚢 𝚜𝚌𝚊𝚛𝚜 ♡¸.•*
"I wonder if this is how people always get close: They heal each other's wounds; they repair the broken skin." - Lauren Oliver
Something doesn't feel right.
Words felt like a mantra, spilling like a waterfall from a head full of unspoken thoughts. Words that felt the need to be said, day after day. A mantra to state the fake reality running through someone's mind. It shouldn't be a mantra; specially when it's not the truth being spoken.
Reptiles let go of their old skin once the time comes. Little birds leave the shell they were born from. The past and the present. How would it be, if it was as easy as birds throwing shells away...
Skin feels foreign sometimes. Even the largest organ of the body can feel alien to a person. It's a tangible thing, it feels, it makes us feel. But are those feelings really ours, when the skin doesn't feel like it?
Raised as someone. Pampered and being called all sorts of cute, silly pet names. Dressed as they expected you to become. Oh how beautiful, eyes just like mommy's, will grow up to be as gorgeous as her.
Lie after lie. Parents say you're the prettiest person to ever exist. The mirrors in that one supermarket aisle would like to differ. It's all different. Who to believe, trust? No idea. Maybe they're correct, but they don't know who they are really praising. Compliments go to waste after all.
It's a buildup of a fake reality, where lies reign. Is it fake though? Doesn't feel like it anymore.
Mommy picked out clothes. A cute dress, purple in color. 'It'll make the boys swoon over you'. A tiny human, only six years old, can only imagine what it means. It's church day, or so they said.
The nest where all insecurities were created. They call it a saint place, but it's only saint when there is nobody else in it. Hence the quietness is the saint element, and can be found anywhere else, really, it's not exclusive.
A book rules everything. But what if it actually doesn't? Words written in a book shouldn't rule someone. Yet again, the power of the mind can make a person believe anything it wants. So it's possible. Words can change minds.
"𝙸 𝚕𝚘𝚟𝚎 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚜𝚘𝚞𝚗𝚍 𝚘𝚏 𝚝𝚑𝚞𝚗𝚍𝚎𝚛 𝚋𝚎𝚌𝚊𝚞𝚜𝚎 𝚒𝚝 𝚛𝚎𝚖𝚒𝚗𝚍𝚜 𝚖𝚎 𝚘𝚏 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚗𝚘𝚒𝚜𝚎 𝚖𝚢 𝚑𝚎𝚊𝚛𝚝 𝚖𝚊𝚔𝚎𝚜 𝚠𝚑𝚎𝚗 𝙸 𝚜𝚎𝚎 𝚢𝚘𝚞." - 𝚅𝚒𝚝𝚘𝚛 𝙷𝚞𝚐𝚘 𝙼𝚘𝚝𝚊
"What are you writing?" Brendon appeared in the dorm, mug of steaming tea in hand, and questioned quietly.
Ryan's hand came to a stop on top of the journal. They acknowledged Brendon's presence in the rather silent room by a quirk of an eyebrow, thin framed glasses falling down the bridge of his nose.
Stopping mid-thought didn't always work for Ryan. Even though his fingers were itching, to keep on narrating the words they wanted so badly to tell, it was just as bad to let them say everything. Sometimes it could end up being too much, and that has always been scary.
"You know what, forget I asked. I'll just leave you to it. Sorry." Brendon did a dismissive gesture with his hand, and apologized for interrupting Ryan's train of thought.
The boy wore an oversized shirt, and the loose sweatpants were basically falling down his hips. If Ryan didn't know him, they would have swore it was a nighttime outfit — it's not. Ryan couldn't be mad at him even if he tried, not that they were in the first place. "It's okay. They're just... words."
"Oh but that's when you're wrong, darling." Brendon shrugs, all simple and easy. He steps further in the room and takes a seat on his own bed, messing up the perfect wrinkle-less covers. He continues as he stirs the cup, "They're your words, and they're as important as you... Want some tea?"
Ryan briefly wondered when would be the day he could understand, perfectly, Brendon's own train of thought. They shook his head slowly at the offer, but also nodded at the other sentence Brendon had said. "Right."
Brendon sipped his tea calmly, unphased by Ryan's short answer. "So, I was wondering... Want to do something today? It's pretty outside."
"Sure... Just, wait a minute." Ryan pondered the question for a minute before answering. Shortly after, he returned their attention to the journal laid in front of him.
On their bed were a bunch of books — some needed for school, the rest to read in their free time. He had picked them up from the school's library not so long ago. He ignored everything else occupying a place on the bed, and focused on the pale yellow colored page.
His eyes scanned over the words they just wrote minutes ago. Pleased with the journal entry, they finished it off with the date, signing it with a rushed '-Ryan' on the bottom right.
Both of them were dressed alike. Sweatpants and a large, long-sleeved t-shirt, which grew to be the unofficial uniform most days around campus. Ryan cracked his knuckles and stretched their back, continuing to slip in a beaten up pair of white converse.
Not before aligning the glasses on his face, they called Brendon. "Ok, we can go now."
The boy smiled softly and offered his cup to Ryan for a second time, knowing it would get declined, but offering it nonetheless. 'Unless it's highly caffeinated, I'll drink it' — Ryan would have said, if it weren't for the fact he did, showing a mild scowl on their face.
"One day, I'll get you to drink tea. One day." Brendon mused, slipping on his own pair of converse, black in his case. "Seriously, drinking that much caffeine can't be good. Join us, tea is much better."
"Yeah no. There's no way I could get through college without it." Ryan answered, checking the state his hair was — disheveled and in serious need of a comb, still not reason enough to actually do something to it. They shrugged, sliding the glasses up the bridge of his nose. "Anyway, where are we going?"
Brendon was too busy gulping the remnants of tea to speak immediately. Or, to scoff at Ryan's insinuatingly hateful comment towards tea. But once the liquid was nowhere to be seen, he smiled and shrugged. "I don't know. I didn't think you'd actually want to come."
"As if I haven't accompanied you before." Ryan's eyes narrowed, disagreeing with Brendon's words. Although, it was true. Ryan would often decline Brendon's afternoon walks offers. But Brendon didn't take it to heart, he knew Ryan.
"Eh, you really haven't... just that one — two times." Brendon responded. And before Ryan could call it quits altogether, Brendon rushed out. "But it's okay! I enjoy taking walks by myself... Not that I love being alone either. I just — You could join me every once in a while, y'know? It's nice out there... Anyway, c'mon, we'll miss the sunset."
Brendon calculatedly dropped his empty mug on the middle of his bed, and reached out for Ryan's hand, smiling at them sweetly. Ryan couldn't even stop and answer, just linked their hands together as they walked out of their dorm. He whispered an 'Okay' a few heartbeats later.
As any other Monday night, the campus remained calm after a lousy weekend. Nobody was out of their dorms. There was no need to greet anybody on their way out of the building.
The green areas on campus were actually enjoyable to glance at, at that time of the year. Kudos to nightly rains and sunny mornings. Tiny flowers were blossoming, littering colorfully the sides of the pavement. The path that led to an old, tall tree just behind the building.
"Today's really pretty, you were right." Ryan muttered once they were in the presence of fresh air, standing in front of the large tree, the one all students claimed to be enchanted.
There was the possibility that the tree could be magical. However, not the fairy-tales kind of magic. The tree emanated peace and overall tranquility, and that was magical enough. They mumbled before laying down, underneath the shadow casted by the leaves, "I like it here."
"Ditto." Brendon agreed, following Ryan's actions, he laid down beside them. Brendon sensed he fell under the spell of the tree, as he got a sense of relaxation spread through him. Nevertheless, he couldn't figure out if it was the place that had such an effect on him, or the person by his side — it could always be both.
The art displayed in that day's sky changed rather quickly. It had been slightly clear, though it still could have been classified as sunny. Puffy, grayish clouds covering the blueness. Then the grayness took over, turning darker, the sun barely visible as it drew closer to the horizon.
"Y'know, my mom called this morning." Ryan blurted out, still watching the gloomy clouds that kept the sun hidden, almost impeding from sight how it tried to escape. "She said she wants to meet up."
"And what did you say?" Brendon questioned, giving up on staring at the sunset — it was scarcely visible after all — and glanced instead at the dancing leaves above their heads. "You agreed?"
"I don't know. Told her I'll think about it." Ryan pursed their lips, thread his fingers together and laid his arms underneath their head. "It's funny. She wants to know how her princess is doing."
Brendon cringed. Although he tried not to make it too noticeable, Ryan catched Brendon's shoulders tensing up. And that motion brought a tiny smile to their face. Brendon cared about them, and that made Ryan incredibly happy.
"You don't have to say it." Brendon reassured Ryan, and rolled over to be closer to them. "I know what you're talking about."
"I know. I just needed to let it out." The older one exhaled and scooted a tiny bit closer to Brendon, so they were completely pressed into each other. "The call brought back all these memories. I don't blame her, I just... I'd prefer if she wasn't so her, it's overwhelming."
"I understand." Brendon reached over and pulled a thin lock of hair out of Ryan's eye. He laid his head on top of Ryan's arm gently, tracing patterns absentmindedly on their shirt. "And how are you feeling, you okay?"
"Yeah, I am. I've got it all sorted out." Ryan shrugged, the best he could with Brendon's head on top of their left arm. "That's what I was writing about, actually."
"I knew there was something." Brendon said, almost cheering at the sudden 'confession'. Though he regretted afterwards, after seeing Ryan's eyebrows knitting together. "Sorry... I just knew something was up in that little head of yours."
Ryan's frown vanished as they rolled their eyes, "And how so? If you claim to know me so well, Brendon Urie."
"Easy, you went to the library on campus, and we both know how much you hate going in there. Then, you were buried in your journal, so I immediately knew something was up... See? I got you all figured out." Brendon finished proudly, clicking his tongue to add emphasis on his statement.
"You're... correct." Ryan smiled bashfully, turning around so he was laying on top of Brendon instead. Before their glasses got in the way, Ryan took them off and pocketed them. He hid their face in Brendon's neck, feeling content with the faint smell of the cologne lingering on Brendon's t-shirt.
They laid there for the next moments. Brendon kept a secure hand on Ryan's lower back, a silent 'I'm here', rubbing circles every now and then. Ryan hummed and closed their eyes, focusing on taking in Brendon's homey, strong scent.
The faint shadow the trees' leaves casted, progressively started to mix up with the lack of sunlight. Until it wasn't a shadow anymore, as the sun drew closer to the hills. A few lamp posts surrounded the building, guiding the path to its entrance. The weak light streams reached them, making them look like a lump resting under the tree.
Brendon's face was partially lit up, visible to anyone that walked by. Although not many people were outside, wandering around, Brendon felt exposed in a way.
The moment felt intimate, it scared Brendon that somebody else would ruin it somehow. But Ryan was allowing themselves that moment, just laying around with Brendon. For once, not letting himself be afraid, not with Brendon by their side.
As it was getting late, Ryan had dozed off at some point. Brendon spent his time watching the sky, looking away every few minutes to catch glimpses of Ryan's sleeping form. But as soon as he saw the first streak of lightning — it was the rainy season after all — he shook them awake.
"C'mon Ry, wake up. It's about to rain." Ryan stirred in their sleep, nuzzling his face into Brendon's Adam's apple, leaving a tiny kiss there.
"Don't want to. Want to stay here." Ryan mumbled, hugging Brendon's waist. As they said that, the sound of thunder ranged in the distance.
"If we stay here, we'll most likely catch a cold. And I don't want to spend the week blowing my nose." Brendon explained, voice sounding slightly exasperated, yet hiding a hint of disagreement to his own words.
Meanwhile, Brendon was massaging Ryan's shoulders quite harshly, in a weak attempt to wake them up — if only, it made Ryan more sleepy. "I know, B... But hush, you're ruining the atmosphere."
"Am I ruining the atmosphere you say? Isn't my voice soothing enough to you? Ouch." Ryan actually blushed at Brendon's words. They weren't ready to admit, out loud, the calming effect Brendon's voice had on him.
"Of course not. I like your voice." Ryan refrained from correcting himself with an 'I love it, actually'. By then, he had sat up, sending Brendon a coy grin. "I love the sound of thunderstorms."
Brendon nodded in understanding, returning the smile — their love for thunderstorms was mutual. "I know, Ry... So, I take that as you wanting to stay here a little longer?"
Ryan simply smiled a little wider, nodding with a tiny head movement. Then they moved themselves backwards, so he was resting their back on the tree trunk. Brendon copied their actions, resting his back on the dark brown, rough surface.
The first droplets began to fall to the ground a couple of minutes later. They made a distinct sound as they caressed the grass on the campus outdoors. It resonated differently than when it hit the glass of a car window, or fell directly on the sidewalk, the streets.
Soft, the correct word for the sound. At least in the very first minutes, the sound remained soft, almost silent if it weren't for the loud thundering. It increased progressively, as did the amount of water falling down.
The tree they were resting on was quite large. Its trunk's width allowed them to be sitting side by side, as if it were a plain wall, not a cylinder. Countless leaves covered them completely, avoiding the drops to make their way down and soak them up that easily. It gave them more time to enjoy the rain.
Ryan's head was resting on top of Brendon's shoulder, the angle quite uncomfortable, but it wasn't exactly a bother anymore. Brendon's right hand had sneaked its way to Ryan's side, holding them, maybe even pulling him a tiny bit closer. Brendon laid his head on top of Ryan's.
"It feels surreal, don't you think?" Brendon whispered, words barely leaving his lips, with no intention of being any louder. Brendon was in complete amazement, he would love to imprint that very image in front of them, in the back of his mind, as well as the sound and petrichor. "I really love this, all of it."
"It does. But it's real, and it's... beautiful." Ryan sighed dream-like. Eyes glistening behind their curly brown locks. They couldn't lie and say his eyes didn't water the tiniest bit — rain made him nostalgic, yet so happy at the same time. The strong scent of wet mud fulfilled the air, the earthy smell embracing them. For a writing enthusiast, words were failing him miserably. "I love it all too."
By then drops were already reaching their shirts and sweatpants. Brendon felt some of them falling down his head, a few rolling down his neck to his back. A shiver erupted from him, and Ryan must have felt it too by how close they were.
Both of them hadn't realized just how cold it had gotten. The air wasn't just a slight, chilly breeze anymore. It became an icy blast that carried water within it, hitting them, leaving behind a sheen on their clothes. A thin layer that soon grew to be darker, due to being completely soaked wet. The drenched fabric started to stick to their skin, cold at the touch.
The heavy rain sounded beautiful, yet scary to still be outside; the torrential rain had grown immensely in a matter of seconds. The field had been overwatered, it couldn't absorb much else. Making the water flow down south, in the direction of the tree — in their direction. Puddles of water started pooling around them, diluting the mud that later cascaded down to their legs.
Brendon was trying his hardest to avoid going to the confines of their dorm, but he couldn't postpone it even further. He spoke, urgency clear in his words. "Ry, I think we should get going."
Their legs bent, to avoid getting any more on them — the clothes would be a pain to get rid of the stains, but that was a worry for later on. Brendon's head turned sideways, so he could gaze at Ryan, sending them an alarmed look.
"Yeah, of course." Ryan nodded a second later, arms trembling scarcely as the strong waves of cold air reached their soaked sleeves. Both of them stood up, heads bending down in instinct, to protect their eyes from the irregular wind blasts coming their way.
As they prepared themselves for leaving the spot under the tree, Ryan thought back for a moment. Mostly questioning himself, why would they get them in that situation in the first place — they would surely get sick after this, how stupid. Although, there wasn't any more time to mourn over it, before Brendon grabbed him and pulled them with him.
The trip to the building's entrance seemed eternal. The path was slippery underneath their worn out shoes. Buckets of water were practically pouring over them, slapping their backs and soaking their hair completely. They intertwined their arms by the elbow, and kept as close as possible.
Brendon vaguely remembered one of his teachers telling them not to run while it was raining, for you'll get wetter. Hence why he tried to walk at a relatively normal, yet urgent pace — trying to ignore the fact he was feeling a pool in his shoes, and that his drenched hair blocked his sight.
The screeching noise of the heavy, wooden doors had never sounded better. Once inside the building, they stopped to catch their breath, standing up on the dark grey 'welcome' rug.
As soon as they had closed the door, the loud rain seemed to fade into the background, like a song on its ending bit. Although some people may feel relieved, Ryan tried not to get upset, because he couldn't hear the rain as loud as before. Meanwhile, Brendon was breathing heavily, the slightest of coughs leaving his parted lips.
Brendon hadn't let go of Ryan's arm. So, when he pulled them slightly away, as if he was rejecting him, Ryan's face reflected confusion. It soon turned into a surprised expression, when Brendon lifted their conjoined hands in the air, twirling Ryan on his spot, in a true ballroom dance fashion.
"We need to dry ourselves up somehow." Brendon shrugged, letting out tiny noises from the back of his throat that resembled a giggle. And before Ryan even had time to process what they were doing, they lifted their arms too, swirling Brendon around this time.
Brendon's longish strands of hair were stuck on his face. The little to no air produced as he spun round, did nothing to mess them up. Ryan's own locks quickly returned to their curly nature, only darker and stiffer than usual, instead of their usual light, wavy feel.
Though their hair wasn't the only thing that changed. Ryan's smile stretched further on his face, than how it did every other day, and genuinely so. Their blushed cheeks reached their eyes, making them squint softly in the edges. He emanated joy in that exact moment, not the usual gloominess.
The sight was amusing to an extent. Two guys were attempting to ballroom dance, right by the door of the building. All the while, soaking wet so badly they had left a pool under them. Someone would definitely get mad if they saw the mess, they just hoped they weren't there to take the blame — There was a thunderstorm outside, it would happen anyway.
Brendon guided Ryan further into the building. Meanwhile, making their bodies move in different directions, whirling them around clumsily. Nobody was in the hallway to catch sight of them. Though, they heard some indistinguishable chatter from the common area, just a few doors down the hall.
The younger boy was not a practiced dancer. But he liked to entertain other people... especially if 'people' meant Ryan — he simply loved to make Ryan happy, to bring a smile to their face every chance he got. It suited him.
"You should smile more often, you look beautiful." Brendon would say occasionally. And Ryan would bite his lip bashfully, and do exactly as they were told, though without even noticing it.
Once they reached the common room, they saw the door was ajar. Brendon stopped twirling Ryan around then, to avoid them getting even more flustered — he didn't let go of Ryan's hand though. Ryan muttered a tiny, near unheard 'thanks'.
The pair of eyes rapidly scanned the room. The people inside were talking over the music playing on the speakers, some were sprawled out on the couches watching a movie. No familiar faces came to view — familiar as in their friends, not just people they knew also lived there.
Assuming they were in their dorms, they shrugged and walked past the door. Although, right before reaching the staircase, a voice called out for them, words echoing through the orangey walls. "Brendon, Ryan! There you are. We were looking for you."
Both boys turned around simultaneously, shoulders relaxing after recognizing the voice's owner. Brendon kept a firm hold on Ryan's hand, rubbing the casual thumb over the skin on its reach. The tall, slim figure approached them slowly.
"Hey, Dallon. What's up?" Brendon greeted him. The grin on his face displayed the innocence of a child, as if unaware of the fact that both of them were dripping wet, and had left a trail of water on their way.
Dallon's face expression swept from smiley into a puzzled one, after getting a closer glimpse of his friends. He was wearing a navy blue sweater and a faded pair of black jeans, hands inside the back pockets — he looked like he just woke up, or maybe the bags under his eyes were permanently stuck on his face. Dallon hesitated on even asking what had happened, but did nonetheless. "Where were you...?"
"Outside, and then it started raining." Ryan took the initiative and responded, shrugging. Their voice sounded small and scarcely insecure, yet managed to be cute as he explained — exactly like a child who had been caught playing outside, under the cold rain. Brendon suppressed the urge to kiss their cheek right at that moment, only expressing his emotion squeezing Ryan's hand.
"Sure..." Dallon trailed off. His hands had left the comfort of the back pockets, and were absentmindedly playing with a loose thread on the sleeve. "Anyway, we were wondering if you wanted to join us for dinner? William and Gabe are cooking."
Ryan and Brendon shared dubious glances, and a few eyebrow quirks... Ryan asked Brendon first 'I don't know, do you want to?', then the latter replied with 'it's fine by me, you?'. Ryan shrugged, nodding his head in a positive response.
"Yeah, we'll be there." Brendon gave Dallon their final answer, smiling politely. He brought his hand to his hair, getting a stubborn lock out of his face. He added, "We just need to, uhm, dry ourselves, and maybe do some cleaning."
"Ok then, I'll tell Gabe — I believe he's making tacos, or something." And as an afterthought, he breathed out, "Good job with the cleaning part." Dallon's eyes were fixated on the bottom hems of their sweatpants, fabric darker than the rest of it, dirty with mud and bits of grass on them. And he couldn't lie, his head hurt when he caught sight of their shoes.
"All right, see you then." Brendon dismissed both of them, Ryan only waved and smiled without showing teeth. The tall one waved back and turned around, going back into the common room. The pair followed Dallon's lead and went in the opposite direction, going upstairs to their dorm.
For a succinct moment, they appreciated the fact that their college decided against carpeted floors on their dormitories. It was true, it would be nice to step on an extra layer for comfort, but then the carpet would get wet, and probably would start smelling of humidity. It was practical, and way easier to clean.
Once in front of the door to their dorm, Brendon rushed to fish the key from his back pocket. He fumbled with the key chain, and a bunch of other keys he no longer used, and then finally unlocked the door, sighing tiredly. The faint smell of apple and cinnamon, coming from a nearby candle that Ryan often lit up, reached them as soon as they passed the doorway.
Ryan's hand felt scarcely warm when Brendon let go of it. His fingers itched, searching, when they weren't intertwined with Brendon's. They already missed the firm yet gentle, hold Brendon's hand provided. Brendon liked holding hands, and knew how much Ryan enjoyed it too, so he did it every chance he could. Although, nothing stopped them from yearning for each other's touch, as soon as one of them let go.
Brendon bounced further into the room, not bothering to turn the lights on, due to the lamp on Ryan's desk emanating a weak, yellowy light that gave the place a comfortable glow. He went directly to their window, pulling up the shades until the night sky was visible, the storm outside exactly like it had been a couple of minutes before, if not heavier and louder.
"There we go, an open window and a clear view of the world." Brendon announced, sitting down on the edge of his bed to get rid of the soaked, muddy converse. He looked up and faced Ryan, lingering on the other side of the room. "Don't you think we need to shower?"
"Yeah, probably." Ryan replied, and walked to stand in front of his dresser. He picked up a — presumably — replica of the sweatpants they were wearing, and the long-sleeved shirt to match, just a pale blue color this time. "It's Monday night... Are the bathrooms crowded at this time? Did you hear any showers running on our way here?"
Brendon seemed to ponder the answer. He didn't have their hall-mates schedules down to a science, so it was hard to tell. But it was Monday after all, he lived under the belief that the majority of them didn't even shower most of the time. "I'm not sure, probably not. I didn't hear anything though."
"Ok, that's good." Ryan sighed, promptly kicking his shoes off and sliding into a pair of flip flops. They opened the closet and searched for the tiny bag with their shower necessities, plus the white towel hanging behind the door. "Should I get going or..." He trailed off, hoping that Brendon caught the camouflaged, 'Do I wait for you or not?'.
"No, wait a second, lemme just-." Brendon held up a finger, doing a quick move to collect the exact same stuff Ryan had picked up seconds ago. When he had everything he needed, he smiled apologetically and opened the door for both of them. "Let's go."
The bathrooms were in the far corner of the hall. It was a bigger room, probably three times any other double dorm. The walls were a clear, light blue, tiled pretty much everywhere but the ceiling. It had shower and bathroom stalls, with doors, not curtains — they were pretty thankful.
They were also grateful for the fact it ended up being empty. Ryan picked his usual stall, the one in the very back. Though Brendon often went for the one beside them, he now left an empty stall in between, for no real reason — Ryan didn't question it.
Maybe he was doing it for Ryan's comfort? It had been a rough day after all, a little space could come in handy. He had experienced it before, how a simple call could cloud someone's day. Plus the gloomy weather wasn't quite helping.
Brendon could only do much, and he hoped the little he was trying to do was working. Holding Ryan's hand on his own had always calmed them — it felt safe, knowing you aren't alone. Perhaps, it was simply the person who made you feel a little lightheaded...
The walls between shower stalls rose high enough, making it impossible to pear through. Reason why, Brendon didn't catch sight of Ryan's watering eyes, when he got rid of his clothing — the dark fabric of the sports bra came into view — moving on with the task rapidly.
They didn't dislike their body as much as he once did. But his mom's voice echoed through their head, and he returned to their childhood room, looking at his reflection on the full-length mirror. The image wasn't totally different from how their actual self presented as. Even though both had red rimmed eyes, glossy with tears, Ryan knew the difference.
Behind that pair of younger eyes laid uncertainty, helplessness. And the very same eyes, now held a sprinkle of comfort, safety. They had accepted themselves for who they truly were, focused on their identity as a whole instead of purely on physical features.
He shook his head, closing their eyelids as he redirected all those thoughts somewhere else. The image displayed on his mind evaporated, and buried itself in the back of their mind.
Soon, the salty tears were entirely replaced with the fresh stream of droplets falling down the shower head. They had dived into the drain, swirled around and carried along the leftover burst of emotions and irrational thoughts. They were all gone — Ryan switched off the shower, grabbed the towel and dried themselves up.
They could hear Brendon's shower still running, and could hear him quietly humming to a cheesy tune. They smiled to themselves, as he got in the clothes, as quickly as possible, almost tripping in the process due to the wet flooring of the tiny shower cubicle.
Every once in a while, Ryan didn't feel like wearing that thing. It was mostly for additional comfort, it felt safe to keep everything in place. They didn't have much to 'hide' in the first place... But after the events of the day, and the fact they would have dinner with other people, instead of just being in their dorm, he preferred to simply put it on.
When he was done, they exited the stall. As he passed Brendon's stall, the humming was loud and clear, for the shower had stopped, and the only thing making a sound was Brendon's voice. They pondered knocking on the door, or maybe saying a cheeky comment of Brendon's choice of song, but refrained and went to stand in front of the sinks.
The brush they carried in the bag was old, but it worked, untangling the mess he called hair. As he pulled out a tiny bottle of humectant, Brendon's stall's door screeched and the boy came to view, pouting. "Damn, you're so fast. I thought I'd win this time."
"I'm not fast, you're just slow." Ryan commented, applying the humectant lotion on their face, focusing on his cheeks and forehead, which tended to get the driest.
"I'm not sure that's exactly true." Brendon sighed, dropping the heavy bag on the counter beside Ryan's, collecting a brush of his own, brushing the dark locks carelessly. He yawned as he added, "I'm so tired, I could fall asleep right now. But I'm hungry. What do I do, Ry?"
"If you hurry, we can go have dinner faster, and then you can fall asleep." Ryan rolled their eyes, gazing over at Brendon's tired eyes. They were now carrying the bag over their shoulder, waiting for Brendon. "I mean, you can skip dinner. But then you'll be in a mood, whining in my ears all day long."
Brendon stopped brushing his hair in an almost violent manner, and slowly brought it down. He appreciated how Ryan spoke up when no one was around, expressing himself openly, almost as open as his writing was.
But sometimes, Ryan surprised him with short outbursts, direct answers, and he couldn't help but feel happy. Ryan was speaking up instead of silencing himself — even if the words were not the friendliest, and aimed directly at Brendon, which often happened. "You're totally right. Let's go have dinner then."
They both grabbed their stuff and walked out of the bathroom. Facing another pair about to get in, when the two pairs tried to open the door simultaneously. Brendon chuckled, and shared apologies with the others as they exited the room. He vaguely identified who they were, but didn't remember their names — he made a mental note to ask them some other time.
Ryan sighed contentedly when they were walking down the hall. It was always easier to face that moment, with the least things possible happening around them. For they would increase the chaos already going on inside their mind. Having Brendon by his side always helped — they stretched their hand out, and Brendon immediately took the hint and held it.
As soon as Brendon opened the room's door, he dropped his bag on the foot of the bed, as carelessly as he had treated his hair. Ryan didn't copy his actions, deliberately putting the bag inside their part of the closet. Overall, their actions had always been more cautious than Brendon's.
The older boy stood before Brendon, analyzing the clothes he chose. The t-shirt looked identical to the one he wore for bed, it had to be exactly the same. It was a Disney t-shirt, so worn out that Ryan guessed Brendon had owned it for years, and was reluctant to get rid of it. Ryan admired Brendon's adoration for kid's movies in his early twenties, it was endearing.
Ryan couldn't speak for himself. Their own clothes made him appear younger, smaller. The long sleeved sweater falling over their shoulders, drowning his thin frame in a lump of neutral colored clothes. And with their messy hair, partly covering his eyes, they were the reenactment of a little kid wrapped up in a towel that was too big for them. Brendon found them cute, but, when did he not?
Even though Ryan loved seeing Brendon in disney clothing, that at one point, was too small to fit his adolescent body, it didn't last too long — Brendon noticed it too. He had unintentionally picked up his pajamas, instead of casual clothes. Not like there was a huge difference in the first place, but he'd rather leave the comfy shirt to wear for bed.
So, he snatched a pair of jeans that were hanging off his desk chair, and a crumpled t-shirt he found. He was about to run to the bathroom to change clothes. But Ryan stopped him, telling him it was okay to dress up there, they'd turn around.
Ryan was sitting on his own desk chair, done with tying the laces of their own pair of black converse. He started doodling on a black page of their journal, his back facing Brendon. They stated, more like thought out loud really, "You're the only person I know that can be so organized, yet so incredibly messy all the time. Seriously, how?"
"Oh, you see, Ry. It's an ability learnt over years of experience." Brendon smirked, explaining as if it were the most obvious thing ever. Then he added, "I'm awesome, I know."
"You're lucky I like you." Ryan admitted jokingly, remarking the lines that resembled vines he had just done around the page — they noticed that the pen was about to die. "If I didn't, I would've requested a roommate change ages ago."
"As if you would be able to live without my charm." The younger boy reasoned, already done with dressing up, now slipping in his pair of black vans, cringing at the sight of his converse. "I bet you'd go to my new dorm, with my boring roommate, and ask — no, beg me to come back. But I'll play hard to get, I'll even close the door on your face and all that jazz... That's until you promise me multiple ice cream dates, and cuddles at night. I'm only human, so I give in and move back in here. And then we live happily ever after. How cute — though now I want ice cream."
Brendon was laying down by the time he stopped narrating the imaginary scenario. Ryan had forgotten about the little vines on the journal pages, and turned around to look at Brendon while he described every detail. They couldn't lie, he had imagined everything vividly. The boy had skills with his words too, even if he denied them. "You.... You are full of surprises — I enjoyed the storytime."
"Gee thanks. I'm getting better at storytelling. I should sign up to one of those kid shows your precious library hosts." And before Ryan could stop him, tell him he's not the most qualified person to act appropriately in front of others, let alone kids, Brendon covered his ears and stood up. "Hush... I'm starving. We should get going, before I eat that donut in the trash can."
And they did. Ryan kept his comments to himself, replacing them with a roll of yes, and followed Brendon out of their dorm.
Their pinky finger moved sideways, a little too shyly to be the thousandth time doing it, until it locked with Brendon's. He couldn't help it — it didn't stop feeling silly to hold the other's hand, even after countless times.
They arrived at the common room holding hands. They had grown used to people seeing them being all touchy with each other — the people had simply stopped asking questions. It was just Brendon at first, with his need for physical touch, as he had whined about countless times. Ryan finally conceded, and let Brendon hold their hand, and sometimes, even cuddle by his side.
The room had a reasonably large table, close to the television. That's where most of their friends were seated — Dallon, Spencer and Jon. A few others were on the couch; Brendon could make up Pete and Patrick's silhouettes on the closest sofa.
"There you are, love birdies!" Gabe beamed the moment he saw them entering. The guy was wearing a green apron, and even if he had been cooking, he didn't lose the bright colored hat. At the moment he was serving himself out of the casserole pan in the middle of the table.
"Hey there." Brendon greeted, waving as he showed them his award-winning smile. Ryan just grinned, redirecting their gaze somewhere else when a bunch of heads perked up. Ryan would pretend they didn't hear Gabe calling them 'love birdies', for the sake of not getting flustered that soon.
The rest greeted them back, mostly nods and words spoken through a napkin, for they were already eating. Brendon's smile swept from casual to guilty, when Spencer's face displayed a not so friendly look, eyes narrowed accusingly — although, it probably was his usual expression. Brendon added, "Are we late to the party or...?"
"Nope, you're right on time." Gabe replied, throwing an arm around Brendon's shoulders, and reached out to mess with Ryan's hair in the process. The shorter ones jumped slightly at the gesture, for they hadn't seen it coming. "Come join us."
"Great, thanks." Brendon responded when Gabe dropped his arm, and tugged on Ryan's hand until they reached the table. Brendon grinned at the sight of food. "Oh wow, did you really prepare this, Gabe?"
The casserole looked good, and smelled like a combination of spices. It appeared to be pork with a few vegetables and beans, all mixed together. It looked strangely healthy, only in a tasty way. It also had grilled cheese on the top — both of them were salivating.
Besides the pan, there was a small basket with a table napkin, covering a stack of homemade tortillas. Dallon sat in front of the casserole pan, so he handed over the basket and two disposable plates to Brendon's awaiting hand. The guy was talking animatedly with his roommate, another Ryan.
Brendon mumbled a 'thank you' to Dallon, who barely heard him, as he described something to the other guy. Brendon ignored their conversation, and served them a spoonful of the casserole on each plate, while Gabe spoke up on the end of the table.
"Damn right I did. Bill only chopped the veggies, don't believe anything he says." Gabe explained, pleased with himself. The confidence he radiated, provided some to Brendon, who was still skeptical about that pair cooking — Dallon had told them that Gabe and William were cooking, which surprised and scared him. "My version of a taco casserole. Serve yourselves — and don't ignore the tortillas, it's supposed to be eaten as tacos... ¡Provecho!" «Bon appetit».
"You're so rude." William's voice echoed from the door as soon as Gabe finished. The people on the table chuckled. He was carrying a replica of the basket, only with a different colored napkin. "I made tortillas, you asshole."
Brendon grabbed two tortillas of the newer stack for each of them, just as William commented he had made them. Which brought a smile to his face, but also rolled his eyes at how silly it was.
"No, you didn't. Technically I made them, you just watched them on the pan." Gabe retaliated. William didn't keep the argument going though. He sat beside Gabe and started eating, simply muttering 'whatever, you're still an asshole' under his breath. They were an inseparable duo, just like Ryan and Brendon — their foolish 'discussions' were amusing, and somewhat adorable.
Ryan picked at Brendon's ribs, since he was taking too long serving their plates. The action made the boy squeak silently, and almost complain that Ryan could serve themselves, yet Brendon knew he would do it anyway.
Everybody was silent by the time Brendon handed Ryan their plate, their mouths too busy chewing the meal Gabe had so kindly prepared — Brendon would ask him later the reason behind such a gesture, but he'd limit himself to eating. The quietness made Brendon's words sound a tad too loud, when he asked Ryan, "Where do you want to sit?... Wait, I'll get us a soda."
Brendon got them a soda can from the minifridge nearby, while Ryan pondered the answer. Their friends were there, and multiple friends of their friends. Ryan wondered if there was a birthday they missed, or a holiday that explained the sudden get-together — nothing came up.
He'd like to catch up with Spencer and Jon. But a second ago they seemed rather busy discussing chord progressions with a nerdy looking guy with curly hair. They weren't in the mood for music theory — honestly, he wasn't in the mood to socialize at all, they would visit them some other time.
"Let's go to the couch?" He told Brendon quietly, finishing the sentence as if it were a question instead. Brendon nodded and handed Ryan their plate and can of soda, leading the way to one of the couches.
They waved past Pete and Patrick, who were more immersed in their own conversation, rather than the movie playing in front of their eyes. Ryan briefly thought about joining them, but they wouldn't like to interrupt Pete's storytime with Pat.
When Ryan didn't tell Brendon 'why don't we sit here?,' he guessed that Ryan would like to sit close to a window, for it was still raining heavily outside. Ryan was suddenly glad Brendon could read him so well.
They walked to the other side of the room, where an antique, dark brown couch rested in front of a window. Ryan sat sideways, with one leg tucked under. Brendon mirrored their pose, but ended up crossing both legs to support his plate. He wanted to face Ryan, not the people scattered around.
"As Gabe said, ¡provecho!" Brendon tried to pronounce the word correctly, but there was an unmistakable American accent laced in every syllable. Ryan found it incredibly funny. Then Brendon added, to redeem himself of the failed attempt, aiming to stop the giggles escaping Ryan's mouth, "Just, enjoy your dinner, honey."
"You too, silly." Ryan grinned, stopping themselves before automatically reacting with a roll of eyes. Sticking with a playful grin on his face, telling Brendon just how much they adored Brendon's spontaneity and silliness.
Before Ryan started thinking too much that he forgot to eat, they dived into the awaiting casserole. Using a fork first, to taste the meal by itself, then he'd eat it as tacos.
Brendon had already made himself one taco, the tortilla no longer burning his hand, barely over room temperature — he was halfway done with it, chewing messily, when Ryan first noticed he had even started.
They continued to have dinner, which extrangely ended up being as tasty as it looked, and the tortillas added the extra flavor — Brendon made a note not to underestimate Gabe's cooking skills in the near future.
After tasting it, Ryan concluded it was really good, the combination of cuisines were present, a delightful surprise. Yet the frown on their face didn't demonstrate such a thing. Although Brendon knew they were enjoying it, for the look on his eyes. The exact same one they reflected when he drank their highly acclaimed, stupidly hot and bitter, morning coffee — his perfect cup of coffee.
The younger had to contain himself to not reach over and smooth down the creases on Ryan's forehead. He worried Ryan would develop those god awful crevices on their face for the time being. Not being able to hold the urge, he did so.
Stretching his unoccupied arm out, he ghosted a finger over the little lines on Ryan's forehead, until they gave in and cleared out, returning to its natural, flat form. Ryan gave him a confused glare, but allowed Brendon's touch. They couldn't deny Brendon's thumb caressing over the skin felt rather calming, liberating the current frown that occupied his face.
Ryan grinned affectionately, lips barely curving upwards, but the shine in their eyes represented their true smile. Brendon reciprocated the grin, only triple as big. Ryan couldn't hold Brendon's stare for too much, as he kept grazing the skin — all the while, having a half empty dinner in their lap, and possibly, a piece of taco waiting in his mouth, for when he had stopped eating altogether.
His eyes left Brendon's features momentarily, just as Brendon stopped his little motions and continued eating. Ryan knew Brendin would have kissed his temple right after, if it weren't for the fact they were in such a crowded area, where any of the people would tease them constantly, about how they are a 'disgustingly cute pair of love birdies'.
Ryan gazed instead at the window beside Brendon's slim frame. It displayed a piece of a live picture, which could easily be considered equally as beautiful as the carefree boy in front of them. The curtains were drawn open, leaving an invitation to admire the sight with ease through the glass.
The lighting cleared the sky from time to time, making the greenness glisten under the rain. Various droplets were pelting the clear surface, then cascading down until dissipating with its endless lookalikes. The drop he had chosen, only made it halfway down the glass, for it had mixed with another one, and then they lost it.
They tuned out the chatter around, to exclusively catch the sounds nature wanted to transmit, and were able to travel all the way inside the building. The wind whooshed through the trail of trees right outside, however, he was only imagining it. The thunder drowned out every other minuscule sound, unable to fight with its intensity.
The rain was immaculate, though Ryan already knew that. They confirmed it every day it rained.
"Hey, Ry?" Brendon muttered. His eyes were blinking one too many times in a short period of time, an indicator of his tiredness, which also made his words sound drowsy.
Ryan redirected their attention back to Brendon, who had been staring at Ryan for the past minute — or minutes. They mumbled in response, words as lazy as Brendon's "Hey, you."
"I liked it today." Brendon breathed out, fighting a yawn to escape his mouth and interrupt his words. A sentence he wanted to tell Ryan as soon as they scurried their way out of the common room, right after they finished having dinner, and of course, thank Gabe repeatedly.
But now they were alone in the confines of their dorm. The only place they could call theirs, if just for a couple of years. Both of them were on Ryan's bed. The most comfortable out of the two, according to Brendon.
Ryan had halfheartedly argued that it wasn't as comfy as Brendon's. And a few days later, Brendon had shyly admitted he liked it because it smelled like them, and he always slept better with Ryan's scent lingering all around him. The older one then said that it was the exact reason he liked Brendon's bed the better... Since then, they switch beds every night.
Ryan laid half on top of Brendon, after finding a weirdly comfortable spot that allowed them a clear view of the tiny window. Brendon was absentmindedly carding his fingers through Ryan's velvety soft locks of hair. They finally responded, "I liked it too."
"We should do it more often." Brendon had thought Ryan dozed off already, when they hadn't answered in a couple of minutes. But didn't miss to keep the conversation, even for the next few minutes, for Ryan's words sounded far too sleepy to keep an entire hour of midnight talking. "In case you want to, of course."
The yellow numbers of the alarm clock on Brendon's bedside table read past midnight. The rain hadn't stopped falling since it had started, to the point it would be concerning. But as Ryan rested in the safe embrace of Brendon's arms, he couldn't bring himself to worry in the slightest.
"No, we should." Ryan muttered, eyes closed and half of his lips fighting to form the words, as they were almost completely pressed on Ryan's pajama shirt. And then his head perked up, for the sake of looking at Brendon as he continued "Thank you. For today I mean, or everyday, really — Thank you, for making everything better."
Brendon couldn't even begin to describe how much he loved to try and make every day even scarcely better, for Ryan. A smile of Ryan could inject endless ounces of energy into his veins, and could make him happy for the rest of the month, year even. It was a constant, content and safe feeling whenever he was by Ryan's side.
So when he vocified a recurrent thought, out loud, he meant it. "I love you."
Ryan wasn't caught off guard, perhaps slightly confused at Brendon's tone, for it had sounded like a revelation, but Ryan had always known Brendon loved him, felt so loved when they were with him... The grin displayed on their lips was enough to tell Brendon just that.
They returned to the position they were in before, tucking his head in Brendon's warm neck. Their lips brushed the sensitive skin, and Brendon swore he could feel them repeating those words a couple of times right on his skin, tattooed them on Brendon's pale neck — before leaving a featherly soft kiss, and then fell asleep, breaths tickling the tender flesh.
Brendon could definitely feel a cold coming both of their way tomorrow morning. Yet he never lost the smile stretching widely on his face, as he had gazed at Ryan's own sleepy, lopsided grin.
It was worth it. Ryan was worth it.