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After the movie was done, Ryan quietly switched off the screen. Brendon was asleep on the bed. He then grabbed up his jacket, and walked into the bathroom. Locking the door behind him, and switching on the light, he noted that he was alone. Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out a tiny box. It looked like one that you would use to hold the lead refills for the mechanical pencils.

But inside, instead of lead, was the sharp, cold edge of a razorblade that looked like it came from a pencil sharpener. It didn’t have that rusted over look that some of them did. Even though it was tiny, it could do some real damage, as seen by Ryan’s arms. The only things that it had nothing to do with was the cuts on his wrists. Those had been made by a rather large kitchen knife.

Ryan slowly opened the box’s top, and slid the blade out onto his palm. It glinted in the light coming from overhead. He put the plastic container down on the countertop, and stood with his left arm out over the sink. There was more space on his arm for what he needed to do.

Taking a deep breath to steady himself, he took off his jacket, and left it hanging on the towel rack. Brendon and the others would surely know what it was if he came along with blood or dried blood on his sleeve. Damn it, he’d picked a gray sweater this morning. He picked up the blade, and carved something into the top of his arm. It wasn’t all that deep. It was barely scratches. But it was enough to make sure that it would probably be there for the rest of his life, or the greater part of it, at any rate. 5 simple little letters. They were jagged, square-ish, and a bit crooked, but they were readable nonetheless. It would serve his purpose just fine. S-O-R-R-Y

Grabbing a piece of toilet paper, Ryan pressed it over the wounds. It filled up with blood after a minute or so. The cuts were already starting to scab over. I’m sorry for making you worry Brendon. Sorry for making you sad. Sorry for making you feel helpless. Sorry for making everyone else hurt. Sorry that I was never much in life. Sorry. So sorry.

Meanwhile, back in the bedroom, Brendon woke up, not seeing Ryan next to him. He quickly texted Spencer, saying, We need 2 tlk wen u get 2 theater. Ryan pulled on his jacket, and walked out of the bathroom he was in, and back to Brendon’s room. Yes, he could have used the one en suite, but he was afraid Brendon might walk in on him or something. “Hey.” Brendon said when he walked back in.

Ryan smiled at him. “Where were you?” Brendon asked. Ryan’s smile faltered slightly. “Bathroom.” he said, determined not to give away more information than necessary. “So why didn’t you use the one here?” was the only reply.

Ryan quickly said, “Didn’t know if you would need to use it when you got up.” Brendon said, “Okay”, before he scooted over on the bed. There was a large space left behind that Ryan could easily fit his slim form into. Sensing this, Ryan hopped up, curling into Brendon’s side. “What time do we leave?”

Brendon pulled a blanket over Ryan, and wrapped his arm around him, before saying, “About 5? You can get some sleep. You look like you haven’t had any rest in ages. I’ll wake you up in time.” Ryan gave a sleepy smile, and said, “Thanks Brenny.” before he drifted off into sleep.

A text came back from Spencer. bout wat it read. Brendon gave a slight sigh, and returned back, RyRo told me sumthin rlly bad not murder tho. Flipping his phone shut, he closed his eyes, and waited for sleep to take him. Before that could happen, another text came back. he told the truth?

Brendon rolled his eyes, before returning, ya, 2 imprtnt 2 tel thru txt c u there call me & wake me @ 1 After sending this message, there were no more coming from Spencer. So Brendon closed his eyes and fell asleep momentarily.

Meanwhile, Spencer and Jon were in the formers house, drinking coffee. They were discussing things, the latest in the line being RyRo. “But I just don’t get it…” Jon was saying. He didn’t mind the fact that Spencer had been texting Brendon for a few minutes. Because it was on topic, and it helped them to prepare what was going to happen later.

“I don’t get it either J-Walk.” Spencer said, taking a sip of his coffee. It was still hot enough to burn his mouth. “Think Brendon can confirm our fears?” Jon asked, blowing at his own coffee. Spencer looked up at him, and caught his eye. They stared at each other for a minute, before Spencer said, “Probably. But I hope that he doesn’t.” Jon nodded and said, “I agree.”

Spencer shifted slightly in his chair, before opening his mouth again. “There’s a chance that Ryan’s worse than we thought.” Jon looked panicked, and asked, “Is he??” Spencer shrugged and said, “Don’t know. Only Brendon knows. And I don’t think even he knows all of it. He might just know some of it. What RyRo chooses to tell him. But the only up-side to this whole mess is that once it’s out in the open, we can help. But if it stays hidden, there’s almost nothing we can do.”

Jon took a gulp of coffee, and set the mug back on the table. He felt helpless when he didn’t know enough information. “But we can talk to him tonight after the movie…right?” he asked. Spencer looked confused and said, “Talk to Brendon? He already said he needed to have a word with us about Ryan.”

Jon shook his head, before he said, “I know about Brendon. I’m asking if we can talk to Ryan after we talk to Brendon.” Spencer nodded, and then said, “You’re right. We should do that. But only if Ryan wants us to talk to him about that. After all, there are two sides to every story.” there went Spencer again, the ever-present wise old man.

“So we call them at 1 to wake them up?” Jon asked, getting his details straight in his head. Spencer nodded. Outside, the wind picked up slightly. In the far distance, thunder rumbled.

“Great. So we have a good chance of getting rained on!” Jon said, spazzing slightly, before he took another great gulp of coffee. Spencer looked at him amusedly, before saying, “No shit Sherlock.”

Jon glared at him, before saying, “Firstly my name is Jon, not Sherlock. Sherlock was this great fictional detective created by this dude, I forget his name, but what the fuck. He had a sidekick named Watson. I on the other hand, am Jon Walker, oft called J-Walk by my friends for no apparent reason. I am nothing close to a detective. In fact, the only thing I do is play bass for some lousy little group out of Las Vegas called “Panic! At The Disco”. What kind of a name is that to begin with? And it’s ’No shit, Sherlock’. There’s a comma there. Cause Sherlock isn’t constipated!”

Spencer sighed, and said, “You are a detective, Jay Walk.” Jon sputtered even more ticked off, “Am not!!!” Spencer took a long sip of coffee, before facing his bandmate once again. “Yes, you are” he said.

“I’m not a detective!” Jon said, trying to avoid shouting in the cramped confines of Spencer’s small kitchen. “So looking into this issue with our beloved RyRo does not put you in a position for discovering things to solve a mystery?” Spencer asked, amused at the stupidity of some people on occasion. “Oh. Yeah…” Jon said, flushing redder than a tomato that was fully ripe and ready to be made into ketchup.

Spencer rolled his eyes, before returning his attention to his neglected cup of coffee that was slowly nearing room temperature. Jon thought that it would be appropriate that he did that as to avoid making an ass out of himself even further.


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