Ryan pulled his crisp white shirt over his head and glanced at his boyfriend of two months in the mirror. He felt an overwhelming sense of gratitude when he looked at Brendon. He had helped Ryan when he most needed it and showed him how to love and be loved. Without Brendon, he would probably still be living with his abusive father and who knows what he would have done to try to cope with the rape. The trial had been scary for Ryan, there was no doubting that. Intimidating lawyers, official looking courtrooms, having to recount his years of abuse and pain, and having to see the very man that had caused his agony sitting some 10 yards away as he did, but Brendon, his angel, his light, had helped him through it. He had held Ryan’s hand through the traumatic interviews, calmed his nerves during the questioning, and after much stubbornness on Brendon’s part and reluctance on the court doctor’s accompanied him for his physical examination. When the trial was over and his father was put away for a good long time, Brendon had even held him when he, no matter how much the man had hurt him, just missed his daddy. Ryan had felt alone; Brendon made sure he knew he wasn’t. Ryan was in pain; Brendon kissed away the tears. Ryan expected lust, demands, greed; Brendon said he could wait, that Ryan healing was more important.
Ryan sighed and picked up his jacket and tie; he hated to think about the trial. As he shrugged on the jacket Brendon’s arm crept around his thin waist. “You okay babe?” Brendon asked, concern lining his smooth voice. Ryan nodded silently and fumbled with his tie. Brendon gently took it from his hands and tied it perfectly around Ryan’s slender neck.
The car ride was dead silent. Ryan gazed out the window watching the town fly by. House after house, who knew what kinds of secrets they held; nobody from the outside could tell the horrors that his own had held. Little children played in yards; were they really as happy as their laughter and smiles conveyed? The car stopped with a jolt causing Ryan to bump his head on the window. The family climbed out of the car and began the trek up to the large brick and stained glass structure. Inside the church, the Uries and Ryan quietly slid into a pew near the back. “We are gathered here today,” the priest began, “in remembrance of a fine young man. Spencer Smith was..” Ryan felt Brendon’s arms around him and he leaned into the embrace as the priest droned on, the caricature still haunting his mind, Spencer hanging from a rope. ‘I love you Spence’ Ryan thought gazing at the picture of a smiling blond boy propped on the casket in the front of the room.