The next day... [Filler]
"Oily marks appear on walls. Where pleasure moments hung before. The takeover. The sweeping insensitivity of this still life."-- Imogen Heap
This bed was a crime scene; an investigation of deceit marketing the emotions of a broken Ryan. The whirring of the ceiling fan withheld his sanity, thinking any other movement might send him in a spell of unwanted emotions. He laid in his bed, cold and naked from a previous night's ignorance. He couldn't call it pleasure. No. Pleasure was something that made you happy. Something that caused stretching smiles and a joy that could last an eternity. This wasn't a pleasure though. Pleasure didn't come with remorse or a fear of another's pain. It wasn't even supposed to come with his own pain, but it did. It was called an ignorance, for he's realization hadn't set in until this very suffocating morning, where all his emotions thundered into his heart. He didn't even realize that the intimacy was a little misplaced; only moans and grunts followed passion supplying kisses. Ryan didn't realize it at the time, but as he awoke to an empty bed and heart, he found that he was just another worthless fuck to his former love. Only there to please for split seconds and absent to share actual love.
There wasn't a note. Not even a single word scribbled on meaningful paper. Only the lingering stench of stale cologne drowning Ryan in feeble memories. Ryan found it hard to believe Brendon would just leave him like that. He didn't know why, he should've known once their lips crashed. Still, he searched the bathroom and kitchen, hoping for the discovery of Brendon. Alas, he found nothing but a shameful conscience submerging into his thoughts. He finally realized he meant absolutely nothing to Brendon. As much as he wanted to disagree with this, he couldn't, because it was the stomach-twisting truth. He was sick with repent; having desires to puke apologies. But, of course, he couldn't allow himself to tell anyone of this.
It was too shameful and it would hurt Helen. And Ryan knew exactly how it felt to be cheated on. The pain, the betrayal, the everything. And the bitch of it all, was that Ryan should've known better. Brendon never loved him and he probably never will. But, Ryan wanted to believe this was just all some fairytale and he was just in the midst of the bad part. But, his Prince Charming became the antagonist of his reality; now the Wicked Witch casting spells over his heart. How could he allow himself to do such a thing? Especially since it was Helen who he loved.
The questioning of his love for Helen made him wealthy with woe; rich with regret. He hated Brendon for showing up at his apartment and toying with these fragile memories of his. And the fact that Brendon seemed so sincere, caused Ryan to fall for this charade of honesty. Of course he loved Helen. She meant more to him than he could ever imagine. He can easily see himself changing for her, but not himself. He wants to be around her almost all of the time. How could he not love her?
Ryan peered to where the sin had transpired; feeling disgusted and dirty. Ryan was right all along. You couldn't trust anybody. Everyone gets screwed over in the end. Love wasn't real; only a sheer belief of optimists. And even though Ryan has spent weeks recovering from this negativity, it all came rushing back in a matter of guilty minutes. He realized he wasn't being negative, he was just being realistic. Ryan couldn't even trust himself to not fall for the pretty words of a previous romance. It was true, we all get screwed over in the end. Brendon screwed him over and now Ryan is doing the same to Helen. It was a vicious cycle of broken hearts and feeble memories; an unstoppable sequence of tears and despair.
Ryan weakly walked to his kitchen, he wasn't hungry but it gave him something to do. He noticed he placed Nicole's birthday present on the counter, both still unopened and untouched. He thought maybe this did work. After all, it helped Nicole screech her emotions into dinners and a one-hit-wonder. But, Ryan couldn't just put his heart into a frying pan or scream his tears into a poppy beat. He needed something extreme, something to help his mind wander farm from his clashing emotions.
He walked from the kitchen and grabbed his coat as he exited his suffocating apartment. He didn't bring the umbrella, for he thought he was undeserving of the protection or shelter the yellow umbrella gives him. It was a strange metaphor of sorts; thinking that the umbrella was the very remembrance of Helen and her warmth and brightness. So, it was as though Helen shouldn't protect or shelter him after the evil he committed. Her warmth and brightness wasn't something Ryan earned.
It was raining of course, but Ryan didn't mind whatsoever. This was the kind he hoped for. It was bitter and polar, with it's frosty drops of rain and shattering thunders. It felt cleansing, as though it could purify his soul. As if all the dirty deeds that he's ever done were washed away, just by the significance of a stormy day. But, this time, as he sat in the eclipsing misery of sorrowed rain, there wasn't a yellow friend or a helping hand to show him the way.
Author's Note: Thanks to MrSz. Or3o, medicatedlives, Life_is_42, eileen162, xoconverse, infinite-oddity, iluvsmiliez, and rcluckins for their fabulous reviews!
My sincere apologies for the lack of update. My computer died! And then I went through a mini writer's block. But, with the help of my beta and the AMAZING reviewers, I got through it. So, thanks tons!
I also apologize for the fact that this is a little bit of a filler. I mean, you wait so long for an update and then you get a filler! I feel bad. But, I assure you the next chapter will be way better. :]
Reviews and ratings are love, people! :]
Do with it as you like.