This is the sequel to 'His Mentality Is Strained On Friendship'
And it was raining.
He was late.
He was always late.
But I didn’t care. I’d wait forever for him.
The rain slowly soaked through my clothing.
It dripped from my hair, freezing my bare arms, face and neck.
I could’ve moved, over to the shelter.
But I wouldn’t. If I had moved he wouldn’t have found me.
Snow fell silently from the sky; it drifted past my face, making it hard to see.
The snow always made me feel sad, but not then, for I knew he was coming.
I glanced around me; sometimes he came from behind me, sometimes from the side.
Sometimes he didn’t come at all. But he said he would, he told me he’d be there.
So I wasn’t going to move.
I stood there, shivering until suddenly, I saw his figure approaching me from the distance.
Happiness overwhelmed me and I ran towards him, kicking up the snow around my feet.
It shimmered from the faint moonlight, twirling like snowy ghosts that floated silently around me.
As I raced towards him, he raised his hand to tell me to stop.
Instantly, I slowed, almost slipping in the snowy darkness.
I felt a strange feeling wash over me. A strange kind of nostalgia.
I’d been in that exact same place before, one of the times I met him.
I’d been running. From what? I don’t know, I can’t remember. He had been there. I had run towards him, through the almost deadly falling snow, I had yelled for help. I hadn't realised it was him. My pursuers were closing in. He had raised his hand to stop me.
Except the situation wasn’t the same.
Suddenly, he spoke. As he spoke, his voice sounded different than normal. It sounded strange, muffled and twisted by the snow.
“Brendon.” He spoke my name. His voice sent an almost electric shock through my body. He sounded sad, almost angry. “I never want to see you again. Don’t ever talk to me again.”
His words felt like daggers cutting me.
I suddenly felt small and out of place. The cold felt more real, the snow felt sharp.
I felt dead, although I knew I was alive. I felt alone, although he was still there. I felt like I was falling; yet I was standing steady.
I knew what I was feeling.
I was experiencing a breaking heart.
I felt it shatter into pieces, the shards stuck into my inside as his words finally settled in my mind.
I felt sick. Dizzy. I couldn’t breathe. The ground suddenly became very close to me. I was on my knees.
I felt the snow connect with my head as I fell onto the cold ground.
The last thing I saw that night was white, the white, cold snow.
Then everything went black.
1 year later…
I’d kill myself for what I did to him.
I was obviously nothing to him.
Something to laugh at and to joke about.
I wasted his time. If I had realised that then maybe I would’ve left him before that.
Even though I loved him with all of my being.
I thought I could make him feel better.
Comfort him from the stress of his father.
But all I did was make things worse.
I had to see him every day after that night.
I don’t know who’d found me. Or taken me home, but whoever it was, hadn’t even known what Ryan had said.
I had taken a month off school. It didn’t help much. It just delayed having to see him again.
Every time I looked at him in class he would look so sad. Instead of his normal, indifferent mask he wore.
He used to be happy. When I had first been with him. His nonchalant indifference had faded and he had been able to laugh and to smile.
But it returned after he had thrown me out of his life.
Maybe he enjoyed his cold, unfeeling self. Maybe he didn’t want to be able to feel anything.
I remember the first night I spent with him.
“Brendon?” His voice was small and frightened; whatever he was going to say next was important. He always got quiet and afraid when he was going to say something big. I knew him too well.
“Yeah Ry? What is it?” I asked. My voice was soft and comforting, willing him to tell me whatever was on his mind.
“I think that…I think that I’m afraid to fall in love.” He told me.
I had smiled at what he had told me. But now, I realise that what he said was maybe the thing that made him dump me. That he didn’t want to fall in love.
He replaced the fear of love with coldness.
The inability to feel love.
I regret ever inviting him to my house that night. Maybe, if he hadn’t have known where I lived. Nothing would’ve happened.
No, no maybe Brendon, no maybe.
My mum constantly asked where Ryan was and why he never came over anymore. I couldn’t ever tell her straight. I only told her that he was busy.
I saw him once after school though. I was passing his house. He was inside and I could see him through the window.
He was with his father.
They were fighting.
But it seemed worse this time.
His father was closer than he should’ve been.
His fists were clenched…hard. Ryan looked slightly scared, but wasn’t backing down.
He didn’t back down until his father’s fist connected with his chest.
The fourth time was on Ryan’s eye. I would’ve raced inside to help him.
But Ryan didn’t want my help.
The day after that at school, Ryan wasn’t there.
Or the next day.
He was there the day after that. His eye was swollen and purple.
I was going to ask him if he was all right, but the words…
“Don’t ever talk to me again” Flashed through my mind.
The day finally came. The day when mum told me we were moving.
I felt relieved, but also sad.
We were all packed up and ready to leave when there was a knock at the door.
I raced to open it; we were already late for the leaving van.
The door swung open and to my surprise, on the doorstep, was a boy.
The most beautiful boy I had ever seen.
He was forcing a smile on his face.
He held a card in his hand.
On the front of the envelope was the word…
I looked into his eyes and shook my head with disbelief.
How could this be happening…?
He was really there.
My Ryan Ross.