Brendon wants Ryan to jump. Will he be able to catch him, or will he let him to crash on the cold ground?
“Just jump already!” Brendon told Cammy, looking up at her.
“If I break any bones, I’m sending you the doctor’s bill,” She laughed, crouching over the side of the lower roof. “Oh God. I can’t believe I’m doing this.” She closed her eyes tightly and jumped down.
She accomplished half of Brendon’s hopes. She didn’t fall into his arms, rather onto him. I laughed out loud as I watched them both tumble to the ground, bodies entwined. And then I yearned to be him.
“Fuck, that hurt,” I heard him mutter, as he made his way to his feet. He helped Cammy up from the ground. She threw her arms around him and embraced him tightly.
“Nice catch, Bden,” Cammy giggled, as he ran his hand through her mahogany hair.
I watched as Ryan made his way to the end of the roof, about seven or eight feet above the ground. He smiled at us.
“Bren, are you willing to come catch me, too?” He asked innocently.
“One boy can only take so much abuse,” He said, denying him, as we let go from our hug. “I bet you twenty bucks that I actually catch you,” Brendon waged him.
“Okay, you’ve got a deal. Get your wallet out, buddy, because there’s no way you’re catching me,” Ry laughed, leaning over the side.
“A whole hundred twenty pounds of guitarist. I’m worried that I might strain my muscles holding such a heavy boy,” Brendon said sarcastically, motioning for him to jump.
“Don’t make fun of my weight,” Ryan insisted, grinning.
“Okay, George,” Bden replied, knowing that the only thing he hated more than being made fun of for his light weight was being called his real name.
It wasn’t because he didn’t like the name. His father had died when he was a teenager, and he had been named after him. He didn’t want to use his father’s name when he had been so unsupportive of the band. It was ‘a corny pipe dream’ to his family, when Ryan’s music meant everything to him.
I remember one day when Ryan came to me, sobbing, when we were about fourteen, because his dad had crushed every dream and hope that he had for becoming a musician. He almost gave up, quit music completely, but I convinced him to stick it out. And not long after, Ryan’s dad was in the hospital for his alcoholism, slowly dying in front of his son.
When he did, Ryan began calling himself by his middle name. We all had to get used to it as quickly as possible, because if we ever called him George he would completely break down back then. Now he just laughed and shook it off, but every time someone mentioned the name, I saw the faraway, distraught young boy that came to me crying that one summer afternoon.
Ryan finally jumped down form the roof. He was smiling the whole way down, knowing that Brendon could never catch him and he was winning twenty dollars to go buy some Capri Suns with.
And to our amazement, he caught him. Ryan’s face was bewildered, his eyes wide. He blinked to see if he was hallucinating, but saw his friend’s grinning face and frowned.
“Damn it. Why do things always work out in your favor?” Ryan asked, as Brendon put him down. He went through his wallet a grabbed a twenty.
“Well…There has to be a reason for it,” Brendon began, pondering the subject. “Oh wait, I know. It’s because I’m awesome.”
Ryan shoved the money into his hand and said, “Go buy some fucking Red Bull.”
He knew that Red Bull was one of Brendon’s biggest, most obnoxious addictions. He had one at least every day, if not two.
“You know what? I will. And I’ll be back here in ten minutes,” Brendon laughed, opening his car door. “Time me. Hey, Ry, I bet you I can make-”
“No. No more bets. Just go buy your energy drug. I mean drink,” Ryan joked, shooing him off.
With that, Brendon was speeding down the roads to the nearest gas station to buy some of his favorite drink. I laughed a little bit and stood next to Ryan, knowing that whatever he was going to say before was long gone from his mind. It was too late for anything important now.
“The last thing that boy needs is more energy,” He said softly in my ear, as I wrapped my arms around him. He put his arms around my shoulders and hugged me close.
“I know. But sometimes I do think he needs a shrink,” I giggled back at him. Suddenly my cell phone’s text message alert rang in my pocket. I broke our embrace, pulling away to retrieve my phone. It was Pete.
Where are you right now? He wrote.
I’m at Ry’s house. How come? I wondered.
I need a cup cake tear I’m huddled in a corner of my house, holding my knees and shaking. Think about it. I need help, Cammy, he texted me.
So get up and go buy a cup cake! I told him.
I’m scared shiver, he joked.
Fine. I’m leaving now, so I’ll pick one up and stop at your house on the way home, all right? Any specific kind? I asked him.
Red Velvet. With the pretty sprinkles. Squeal Cupcake! I’ll see you in a few, Cams. Buhbye,