FicWad

“Bloody hell, how are you so good at this game?” I moaned. I roughly shoved the dice into Ryan’s outstretched hand. He chuckled slightly before letting the dice drop out of his hand and roll onto the board.

I glanced at the clock. It was already six in the morning. There had been no sleeping; only laughing, talking, and playing numerous games of snakes and ladders. My head was still pulsing from being hit against the asphalt five hours previously, and now my eyes felt heavy and I was beginning to get tired. I gave an angry look at my blue token set squarely on the number thirty-six, where as Ryan’s yellow token was already at eighty four.

“It’s the easiest game in the universe. Roll the dice, and pray that you don’t hit a snake.” He chuckled. I sighed.

“Well, I know that. It’s just this sodding snake; I keep getting even numbers, and hitting this really big one here.” I pointed out the long, green, wiry snake with an evil smirk on his smug little face. “You’ve won thirteen games already.”

Ryan half-smiled, half-yawned, “Do you want to do something else?” I looked once more at the clock, and then back down at the board.

“Well, let me win just one, and then we can go for a walk or something. I’ll switch you little token things?” I gestured to his yellow piece. He chuckled once more and nodded. I crawled over the board. I sat audaciously, so that my leg was touching his. He offered me the dice, and I rolled them with hope. A two and a three. I counted out loud to five as I landed on the head of an orange snake that took me down twenty spaces. “You know what? Let’s just not play this game. Ever, ever again.” Frustrated, I gave the board a little shove with my foot. Ryan laughed, and we simultaneously got up.

His small room was simply furnished. His walls were a deep emerald green color, but you could barely tell the color from all of the pieces of paper he had taped, thumb tacked, and stapled to them. I had studied a few of them, I saw some phone numbers, lyrics of his, and lyrics from other songs, to-do lists, and I saw a few sketches.

His desk was covered in pens, pencils, notebooks and unfinished homework. Beside his desk was an acoustic guitar and a pile of music sheets, mostly his own creations. The sheets that lay neatly over his bed were a navy blue color, which accentuated the green of his walls, giving the room and overall calm feeling.

I caught the old plaid scarf that Ryan tossed in my direction and a sweater. I looked curiously at him for a moment, but then pulled on the sweater. I knew that the jumper he had given me to wear was one of his favorites. Ryan had refused to lend it to Brendon once.

“Ready?” He asked, zipping up his own sweater.

“I’m ready.” I snuggled myself deeper into his clothes.

“Let’s go.” He said, smiling. He took me to his front door, and as soon as he opened the entrance, a cold burst of wind came into the house. I trudged outside half-heartedly.

Ryan’s Point Of View
The rays of sunlight caressed her blonde hair, making it shine and sparkle attractively. I dared to glance in the sun’s direction. It was just peeking over the nearest clump of trees, scattering it’s autumn light everywhere. Delilah turned around, and smiled, exposing her straight white set of teeth. The early morning cold had already added a little more rouge to her round cheeks.

“I- You’re- Uh- It’s cold.” I said. I didn’t mean to sound so stupid. I had opened my mouth bravely, intent on telling her that she looked beautiful, but, as usual, I had changed my mind at the last second. It was strange how I could pour my feelings into lyrics, but I couldn’t seem to muster enough courage to compliment her. She smiled widely again.

“Oh, Ryan. You’re such a wimp. It’s not that cold out here.” She suppressed a shiver. I raised my eyebrow at her in a joking manner. She stuck out her tongue and patted the side of my face softly. After she had removed her hand, my cheek felt oddly cold and lonely. Even though the tips of her fingers felt frozen against my skin when her hand contacted my face that sent shivers down my back, I didn’t think that it was a shiver from the cold.

I went back to being my quiet and observational self. I was trying to think of things I could say to her to spark up a conversation, but I think I had run out of things to talk about somewhere between leaving the house and now. It was strange how I hadn’t had a problem talking to her last night, but now I couldn’t think of a single thing to say. We had had many endless conversations about anything that seemed to pop up in our minds, and now, my thoughts seemed to have dried up- all I could think about was Delilah.

“You look really good.” I said quickly. So, it wasn’t exactly what I was planning on saying to her, and maybe I said it a little quickly, and, granted, a little loudly. But at least I had finally said something. Her smile grew rapidly and she buried her face in her hands.

Delilah reminded me of a porcelain doll. Her round face and rouge tinted cheeks seemed to glow radiantly in the sunlight. Her blonde hair that hung down to the bottom of her shoulder blades had fallen in loose curls since she hadn’t had the chance to flat iron it at my house- but it didn’t seem like she cared too much about what her hair looked like at the moment.

She was about half a foot smaller than I was. Even though I was pretty skinny, the sweater that fit me almost perfectly made her seem even more miniscule. It bagged around her elbows and she had to roll up the sleeves just to make sure her fingertips poked out of the hole. The scarf wrapped around her neck three or four times, and covered everything up to her bottom lip.

Even though Delilah sometimes got too excited, she always held certain elegance about her, the same way a porcelain doll holds itself- with poise and grace. I also held her in the same esteem as a porcelain doll. I was afraid to touch her, and I was afraid of being too rough with her. It was almost like she was too fragile to be taken off of her shelf.

I had immersed myself in deep thought, that I hadn’t noticed that we had been walking for a little while now, and we were by an old field that was six or seven minutes away from my house. I hadn’t been here in almost five years, though. Not since this field had been used for sports. But long since had the soccer nets been taken out, and the boundary lines faded. The short expanse of long wild grasses and flowers that billowed in the slight breeze looked peculiarly out of place in the neatly pedicured suburb.

“Ryan? Can we walk through there?.” Delilah’s face was alight with curiosity. I nodded, having no real obligation. She grabbed my wrist gently in her hand and started running through the grasses, sending orange, red, and yellow leaves flying out of our way. I caught up to her, and she slowed down. She turned to me, with a mischievous look on her face, and jumped on my back.

I wrapped my hands and arms around her thin legs for support, and started to spin around. The field was just a blur of color. I occasionally made out the same house as I rotated, but I had to close my eyes after a while. All that I noticed was where Delilah’s body was touching my own, and her laughter. All of my thoughts collectively vanished and I was left just with her. All of my problems seemed to melt away with the blur of the field. All the stress concerning my dad, about school, about the band, seemed to erode from my mind.

Suddenly, my knee collapsed under our combined weight, or maybe it was just because I was too dizzy to really realize what was going on. I forced myself to fall sideways instead of backwards, knowing that if I did, I would crush her. We crumpled into the long grasses that seemed to be towering over our heads from the ground.

“Ryan! Are you all right?” Delilah scurried around to my side and I placed my head in her lap, and looked up into her sparkling blue eyes that seemed to match the blue in the sky above us. Everything seemed to still be spinning and it felt like the earth underneath me was shifting.

We looked at each other for a moment, and began to chuckle.

”You’re so cute.” Delilah said, half smiling. I smiled broadly back at her. She started to run her slender fingers through my hair, and for the first time all night, I grew tired.

Delilah’s Point Of View
I gently picked a daisy from beside me and tucked it securely behind Ryan’s ear as I continued to stroke his hair. I studied his calm, sleeping face resting in my lap. His round face seemed to emit the word perfection. Even though his eyes were lightly closed, I could imagine his hazel eyes gleaming back up at me. He had the faintest trace of a smile playing on his lips. Every flaw only seemed to be adding to the perfection that was growing in front of me. I unraveled the scarf from around my neck, hastily folded it, and gingerly slid it underneath his head as a shabby, makeshift pillow.

I tilted my head slightly, and cautiously leaned forward, pressing my lips against his forehead. I rested my head on top of his momentarily.

I felt him shifting. I jumped back nervously, hoping that he hadn’t been awake when I had kissed his forehead. His eyes opened, and his mouth curved into a deep smile. I couldn’t remember the last time I had blushed so much. I moved his head out of my lap, and jumped up.

“Oh dear. I’m sorry. I-” I didn’t bother to finish my sentence. Ugh, why had I done that? He must think I’m so stupid. He’s laughing at me. Look at the smile on his face. He must think that I’m the strangest girl on earth.

He slowly sat up, not even for an instance removing his eyes from me. He crossed his legs and his hands were resting on each on his knees. Stop being so cute. This isn’t fair. He arched his eyebrow, smiling still.

He tilted his head, just as I had tilted mine, and asked, “Why?” I was in awe. I thought that he would reply in a sarcastic tone, or through laughter, or in an awkward, stumbling, statement. But he made it sound as if I hadn’t done anything wrong at all. I slowly sat back down, feeling a little silly for jumping up as I had. I looked at him.

“Well- Oh, I don’t know- I just thought that you’d-” I stopped talking once again, afraid of making myself seem even more ridiculous. I glanced away from his face, and found my attention attracted to Ryan’s hand, where the daisy that I had place neatly behind his ear was being twirled gingerly between his fingers.

“There was nothing wrong with it, silly. Here.” He said, moving forward. My stomach covertly twisted and writhed with butterflies when he had called me silly. He brought his face closer to mine, and lightly placed his lips against my cheek. I wished he’d never stop. Everything felt so perfect. The sun was stretching itself lazily over the sky, the birds were chirping merrily, and I was with Ryan.

Ryan’s hand brushed mine, and when he withdrew it, I felt the thin, worn stem of the daisy.

After he had vacated his lips from my cheek, we sat smiling. Neither of us talked. The situation could have been awkward, but it felt more like a happy silence than a strange one. My heart was beating madly. I could barely stand the silence, but as if on cue, Ryan broke it.

“So, what do you want to do now?” He asked, ruffling his hair in his hand.

“We can go to my house, if you’d like.” I suggested. He nodded, and stood up. At that point, I realized how close we had been sitting together. I grabbed the scarf from the ground, and once again wrapped it around my neck and lower face, brushing off the dry brush that had clung desperately to the fabric. I looked up, and noticed Ryan’s outstretched hand in front of me, offering help. My knees felt awkward, as if they were resistant to stand me up.

Bloody traitors.

When I was standing on my feet, his grasp didn’t loosen at all. I felt nervous, but I interlocked my fingers with his, and we walked through the field once more to the sterile concrete. At first it was nerve wracking, and strange, but every step we took, I felt more comfortable with our fingers intertwined.


*

I stopped automatically as we turned the corner onto my street. Everything looked normal at my house, except for the beige car parked somewhat recklessly in the driveway. I immediately wished that I hadn’t suggested my house.

“What’s wrong?” Ryan had stopped as well.

“It looks like Duane’s there. And I seriously doubt that he popped over for a little breakfast.” I looked at Ryan somewhat apologetically. He squeezed my hand comfortingly.

“If you really don’t want to go we can go back to-”

“No, no. Don’t be silly. We’re already here, we might as well go in.” I interrupted. “And my fingers are kind of cold. And I think maybe I’m thirtsy” I admitted, looking at the tips of the hand that wasn’t latched onto Ryan’s. He nodded, and we continued out way to the death house.

“Yeah. I’m thirsty too. We can just go straight up to your room, then.” He shrugged, and I nodded with a smile.

For a moment, I rifled through my purse, searching for my keys. I unenthusiastically turned the lock to hear the mechanical click. I quietly shut the door behind us as slipped off my flats. I let go of Ryan’s hand as soon as we got into my room, and flung myself onto my bed. I shuffled for my radio remote control, and pressed the power button, where the radio played quietly for background noise. I patted the bed beside me, gesturing for him to come sit down. He flopped down on my bed, sitting near the edge with his hands held together in his lap.

“Do you want anything to drink or eat?” I asked quietly.

“No, I’m alright.”

“Ryan, you told me you were thirsty about five minutes ago.” I persisted.

He shrugged. “I’m fi-”

“I’m at least going to get you a glass of water.” I rolled my eyes, and smiled. He tried to hide his smile and nodded in reluctant agreement.

“Just do whatever you’d like, I’ll be back in two or three minutes.” I left Ryan sitting on my bed. I half stumbled down the stairs, clutching to the railing. My legs felt like jelly, and I couldn’t tell whether it was because I was cold, or because I was nervous. I looked at the grandfather clock in the living room after I finally got down the stairs.

7:04 am.

I heard voices coming from the kitchen. I glance at the stairs to make sure Ryan wasn’t going to come downstairs unexpectedly, and pressed my ear to the door. I didn’t have to understand what they were saying to know that it was my mother and Duane.

“Sherron, I have to tell you something.” Duane’s hard soled shoes pacing on the kitchen linoleum. I scowled. I bloody just washed those floors last night and he was parading around on the nice white linoleum with his muddy shoes. He sounded rather nervous. Perfect timing. I got to skip all the boring adult chatter, and listen to the important stuff.

“Of course, darling, you can tell me anything.” My mother sounded extremely worried. Her voice had cracked half way through the sentence. I lowered my face closer to the crack between the door and the carpet, hungry for more.

Duane paced the kitchen in silence for quite a while, until he sighed and,

“I still haven’t left my wife.”

I heard a glass mug shattering on the ground, its contents sloshing unhappily over the floor.

I arched my eyebrows in shock. Wife?

“D-Duane! I can’t believe this! You told me that you had left her before I moved from London!” She yelped. I felt both embarrassed for my mother and angry at Duane. This is what she uprooted my life for?

“Don’t worry, baby. She doesn’t know about us.” He said, quietly. I pressed the side of my head flat against the door. I was unsure whether he had sounded monotone because I couldn’t hear properly or because he was being suspicious.

“Duane, no! You’ve lied to me! If I had known this I would have never moved here!” I could hear the shuffling of her slippers and the scrape of a chair.

“But then the opportunity for you to come be with me would have passed. And you’re happier here.”

“Yes, of course, I’m happy here with you,” She soothed.

I scoffed. What a horrible liars.

She continued, “But I don’t want to be a home wrecker! I want to be yours, and I most certainly want you to be mine.” Her voice was wavering. She was already sucking up to him, and she hadn’t done anything wrong. I rolled my eyes. I had just lost a huge amount of respect for her.

“Our home was already wrecked.” He said simply. How on earth was that supposed to make anyone feel better? “Baby, you know I want you to be mine, but Mike and I wouldn’t have anywhere to live, she’d kick me out. I’m only with her because she’s providing the money. As soon as I have enough, I’m going to buy us a beautiful house far away from here- away from her. And I’ll leave her. Baby, you mean so much more to me than she ever did.”

“Do you promise?” She stammered.

That was it. I couldn’t hear any more. I wouldn’t be able to stand it. I burst into the kitchen angrily, slamming the door open. I didn’t move as they looked away from each other and let their gazes rest on me. I rolled my eyes and stormed toward the glass cupboard. I slammed down two cups, almost shattering one.

They were quiet until I heard my mother say my name weakly. “Delilah?” I grabbed the water jug from the fridge, and started pouring the glasses with chilled water.

“What?” I snapped.

“Who’s the second glass for?” Duane said from the corner of the room. I put the water jug in the fridge, closing the door calmly.

“Ryan.”

“What’s he doing here?” I turned around to face Duane, some of the water in the glasses I was holding sloshed noisily against the cold linoleum.

“Sorry, as I recall, this isn’t your house.” I said waspishly. I saw him nudge my mother with his elbow, without averting his stare from me. I snorted.

“Delilah, you know you have to ask to have your mates over.” She agreed quietly.

I breathed in, glaring at my mother. “Well, Mum. Quite frankly, you’re supposed to ask before making your daughter move from England to America, being completely sure that the man you’re moving for isn’t with his wife anymore. But, you didn’t really do that then, did you?” My voice shook the house. I turned around, and exited the kitchen, leaving the kitchen door agape. I rushed up the stairs, letting the freezing water spill out of the cup and dribble down my forearms and off of my elbows. Streams of water that matches the ones on my cheeks. Ryan was sitting on the floor, his legs crossed, playing with the knobs on my radio. He looked at me with a look of pity. I placed the glasses on dresser that was closest to my door.

“I just- I just have to go to the bathroom.” I spun around and started walking to the lavatory. The door was still open just a crack, but I didn’t care. I didn’t want to think. I wanted to get rid of everything. I bent over the smooth, cool porcelain toilet again, and attempted to cleanse everything from me with my finger.

“Delilah…”

Ryan’s Point Of View
I had heard everything. I didn’t want to hear it, but I couldn’t seem to block it out. I now understood every snide remark Delilah would make about Duane, every quiet moment we shared when the topic changed to our families. Every word that she had yelled at her mother and Mr. Stoermer chipped away at my heart.

No wonder she missed living in London.

I wished that I could have just taken her out of this house, away from here. Far away from Las Vegas.

I slid off of the bed to sit at her radio and turn down the volume. I couldn’t hear anyone talking anymore. At that very moment, I heard the bed room door creak open and expose Delilah, half empty glasses of water on her soaking wet hands, water dribbling off of her elbows, and tears dripping off of her face. I watched sadly as she placed the cups of water on her dresser and slowly backed away.

She stuttered, “I just- I just have to go to the bathroom.” She continued out of the room. I was immobile. I listened to her hurried footsteps just down the hallway into the bathroom. I was unsure of what to do or how to react.

I couldn’t just sit there.

I got up and followed her to the bathroom. The door was open just a splinter. I stepped forward, planted my feet sternly on the ground and pushed open the door with one hand. At first I thought she had just collapsed and was sobbing over the toilet. Then I realized she wasn’t sobbing, but retching.

It made me exceedingly upset to see her so vulnerable. I wasn’t upset because she was ill, but just to witness what she was doing to herself made me feel so helpless.

“Delilah…” I had no idea what to say. She snapped her head in my direction. She immediately stood up and went over to the sink. She fumbled with her toothpaste and toothbrush in her small hands for a moment. She started brushing her teeth vigorously.

I couldn’t take my eyes off of her. She seemed as if she was unable to look at herself in the mirror. Her tears splashed into the swirling tap water in the sink.

I can’t believe I didn’t realize that she- I should have known. It’s so obvious. The first time I met her- at Brendon’s house- in the bathroom… That’s why when we eat popcorn or call for pizza she just drinks water. No wonder she always disappears for a few minutes in the bathroom when Jon, Spencer, or Brendon persuade her to have a bite of something. You could have helped her, but you didn’t.

She rinsed out her mouth with water and placed her toothbrush in it’s holder, and the toothpaste back into the drawer. My feet were still planted firmly in the doorway. She turned to face me, and brushed tears out og her eyes. Her porcelain face was streaked with tear marks.My hands felt strangely cold, and my brain seemed to be stuck. She didn’t do or say anything either. We stood, both of us irresolute. Her gaze fell upon the floor, face stained and embarrassed. Her hair fell flaccidly in front of her face.

Automatically, I had reached forward and grabbed her hand. I held her limp hand for a while, about to let it go, when she squeezed my hand back. I was so focused on her thin fingers playing with my own, that I had not noticed that she was looking at me until I glanced up at her.

“I’m sorry for over-reacting.” She offered. I shook my head. My tongue seemed to swell, but I forced words to spill from my mouth.

“No, please don’t say that.” I sighed deeply, knowing what I was about to say. “It’s not your fault. Why would it be? You can’t keep beating up on yourself for things others do.” I inhaled, ready to continue. “You can’t keep doing that either.” I gestured towards the toilet bowl. She feigned a sad smile. I imagined her being appalled and aghast at my words. But, then she sighed, and the smirk disappeared into her now serious face. I grew worried.

“Have you seen me?” Her voice was saddened, and I grew frustrated and my heart sunk.

“Yes, and I don’t see anything wrong. You’re perfect the way you are. I don’t want you to change at all. You’re so beautiful, and thin, and just-” I stopped short.

She launched herself forward and flung her arms around my neck. She sobbed into my shoulder. I wrapped my arms around her waist, pulling her skeletal frame closer to mine. My heart seemed to grow and my lungs felt like they were shrinking.

“Let’s go somewhere else.” I said sternly, letting her know that this wasn’t a suggestion. She nodded, and we left the house quietly, the cups on her bedroom dresser forgotten.