Brendon closed his eyes and let out a single choked sob. He needed to get help.
Brendon took a shaky breath as he stared at the water that filled the toilet. It wasn’t long before he felt his dinner come back up and spill out, tainting the clear liquid in the bowl. That’s was he was; vomit ruining the pristine and wonderful lives of his friends and family.
“B-Brendon? Is everything alright?” Spencer asked meekly from the other side of the door.
He glanced over at his bloody, scar streaked wrists and chuckled darkly in somewhat of a response. Oh, Spencer. Poor, naive, stupid Spencer. What made that boy think that everything was even the tiniest bit “alright”? It was the exact opposite. Brendon wasn’t vomiting and bleeding on the bathroom floor just for the attention. He was sick. He was confused. And worst of all, he was all alone.
“Open the door, Brendon. We’re here to help. Just open the door,” Jon commanded.
“No,” Brendon answered softly.
“Brendon, open the door.” His voice was thick with frustration. Not anger like Brendon hoped, just some measly frustration. No no, that was no good. Brendon needed someone to be furious with him. He needed to be told that he was a no-good villain. Brendon closed his eyes and let out a single choked sob.
He needed to get help.
But there was no one to help him.
“There never was nor will there ever be,” Brendon thought bitterly.
He heard shuffling are murmurs outside the door for a moment before finally, there was a heavy knock on the door.
“Who’s there?” he called back mockingly.
“Brendon open the fucking door right now.”
The adolescent opened his eyes as he felt his heart skip a beat.
No, no, this couldn’t be happening.
“Brendon,” came the same voice in a warning tone.
There was silence.
It was so quiet that Brendon could hear the refrigerator humming from the kitchen downstairs. Brendon hated silence almost more than anything. He wanted to scream just to make it go away, but that would be rude. He had finished speaking, so it was someone else’s turn. Brendon didn’t want to rid himself of his manners just yet. He wanted to keep at least some of his sanity. If there was any left.
A powerful kick to the door brought Brendon’s attention sharply back to the people on the other side of the door. He couldn’t call them his friends, he had already ruined their lives enough by being their friend for the past few years.
A second kick reminded him to focus, and Brendon just about stood up when a loud cry of intense frustration and anger rocked him to the core. He knew exactly who it came from but it still scared the living daylight out of him. It stumped him how someone so small and introverted at times could turn into the big bad wolf, ready to knock Brendon’s little house down.
“Brendon, listen to me, you hear? LISTEN. I need you to unlock this fucking door and let me in. Spencer and Jon don’t have to come in but I DO. Open the door or I swear I’m going to kick it down. Is that clear?”
Brendon remained where he was. He figured that the door would in fact be busted open momentarily and he didn’t want to bother to do it himself. So he waited. And waited. And waited until finally, with a booming “crack!” the door flew open.
“Was I not clear enough?” The loud, steady voice now came from right behind him.
Brendon sensed the other boy behind him crouching down and held his breath. He was terrified of the other boy and what he would do.
“Tell me what’s wrong, Bren,” the voice had softened greatly, signalling the end of the big bad wolf’s rampage. “Please.”
That final word broke Brendon’s heart. He squeezed his eyes shut in a vain attempt to stop the heavy flow of tears. Why was he so weak?
“I’m sorry,” he whispered, “I’m so sorry, Ryan.”
“Why sorry? What did you do wrong?” Ryan stroked the younger boy’s hair gently, causing more tears to fall.
“Everything. I’ve ruined everything.” Brendon forced himself not to turn around and bury himself in Ryan’s arms. Instead, he kept gripping the edge of the toilet bowl and letting his tears slip into the filthy water.
“Like what, Bren?”
The urge to turn around was killing him at that point. “I-I’ve just been a burden for e-everyone and I want to e-end it.”
“Don’t be ridiculous. I love you, so do your parents, and Spencer and Jon think you’re fucking awesome. What do you mean by ‘end it’?”
“Y-you’re just saying that. A-and I mean ‘end it’, as in...” Brendon took a trembling finger and slid it across his throat.
Without any warning whatsoever, Ryan’s arms wrapped around his shoulders tightly.
“Don’t you fucking think about it. You are not leaving me here in this godforsaken world alone.”
Brendon lost it. He turned around and curled up into Ryan. The older boy readjusted his arms so that one hand was on the small of Brendon’s back and one was stroking his hair once more. As much as he hated himself for it, Brendon cried into Ryan’s chest as hard as he could. Ryan held him and absorbed the shock of the sobs until the quieted and all that was left was a few whimpers.
“Shh, just relax. I’ve got you.”
Brendon pressed his ear against the older boy’s chest and smiled slightly when he heard the strong, steady beating of Ryan’s heart. He hadn’t smiled truthfully in a really long time. He let the live drum lull him slowly, recognizing that he had given up the fight.
And that was okay, he guessed. Except for the fact that he had a shit load of explaining to do when he woke up.