FicWad

Ryan woke up to the cool post-morning desert air. The sky was a dark blue, the sun not yet ready to come up. Ryan rolled over, looking to his right as he curled up in the warm blanket. He looked out the open window of the old room, watching as the dancing lights of the city outside flooded through the window. There was a sleeping beauty underneath the window sill, his back against the wall, head resting on his shoulder. His breathing was slow and rhythmic, one of his legs stretched out while the other was bent, his foot against the knee of his other leg. His arms were crossed and hidden underneath his jacket as he used it like a blanket. Ryan looked at his rosy cheeks, as Brendon shifted slightly in his sleep.
Ryan held the blanket closer to him, sitting upright. Brendon had saved him...so what now? He didn't know if he could face the sleeping boy when he woke up. And yet, he had the need to see those dark brown eyes staring into his own. He had a longing for them since he first saw Brendon. Before he knew his name. Before he knew Brendon could play the piano. Or that he had friends that would help hid himself and Brendon. God, he owed everyone that helped him get away from his broken family. Even if it meant that he didn't have a home anymore. Ryan sighed, he didn't have a home anymore. He had nowhere to go.
And yet, he felt amazing, his heart fluttering with every small movement that the sleeping Brendon made. He was actually really cute to watch when he slept. He looked like a little kid, constantly changing positions, making adorable faces. He kept frowning, wrinkles forming on his forehead, his eyebrows furrowing together, the corners of his plump pale lips moving down. Ryan couldn't deny the fact that he would kill to pounce on him right at that moment, no matter how wrong it was. He shivered slightly at the thought. The thought alone was enough to make him hard, but he knew it was a bad idea based on the place and time.
Ryan sighed, getting up with the blanket still wrapped around him. Who was to say that Brendon felt the same as him? He could just be a kind person who decided to help Ryan when he needed it most. But no one ever said that he felt the same. Ryan walked around the room, finding a makeshift kitchen, in which there was a door. He opened it slowly, curious to see what was behind it, and at the same time being cautious to not wake Brendon. It was a small washroom, complete with a shower sink and toilet. He walked in, closing the door and locking it. He dropped the blanket, going over to turn the shower on. He slipped his shoes off, amazed that he had manged to sleep with them on. He pulled his socks off, his warm feet meeting with the cold tiled ground.
The washroom seemed slightly dirty. The dull blue that the tiled floor seemed to be was covered in a light layer of dust and dirt. Each small movement that Ryan made disturbed the dust and dirt. The wooden door had white paint chipping off of it, and a dull knob handle that was made of what looked like iron. Above the handle was a bolt lock, made of the same metal as the knob, the bolt about the same size as Ryan's index finger. The walls were a plain white, the porcelain sink had red stains on it, and above that a thin layer of dirt. There was a dust covered mirror above the sink that looked like it belonged in a sixties sitcom, a large crack at the top of it. Ryan looked at himself, frowning a little. There were deep bags under his honey eyes, eyeliner smeared around them and slightly across one of his cheeks. His light brown hair was disheveled, the peacock feathers tangled in it. His pale lips were chapped and dry. Ryan continued to stare at his reflection until the steam from the warming shower fogged the mirror. He sighed a little, how could anyone love him?
He took his too tight vest off, walking over to a medicine cabinet that was pushed against a wall. He opened it to find everything that was needed for a nice shower, including clean towels. He smiled a little, pulling out some honey shampoo a bottle of conditioner and a bar of soap. He stripped his pants and boxers off before getting into the shower. The scolding water burned his pale flesh, making it a bright red. He sighed, running his long thin fingers through his tangled hair. What was he going to do? He closed his eyes, thinking of Brendon, the boy who saved him. The boy that he couldn't stop thinking about. He bit his lip, sliding down the shower wall. He wanted him. He wanted him so badly.
Ryan could see every detail of Brendon, and it made it almost as if he was sitting right there with him. He groaned a little at the thought. Brendon sitting right there, wet and naked. Like that would ever happen. Ryan put his head in his hands, smearing the already messy eyeliner, getting some of it off in the process. He closed his eyes, giving off a small sigh. He wanted a smoke. Hell, he needed one.
Ryan stood, quickly washing his hair and body before stepping out of the shower. He was shaking from the lack of nicotine in his body and the cold draft that attacked him when he steeped out of the steam. There on the dirty sink, was a small pile of neatly folded clothing. Curiosity overran Ryan's mind as he glanced at the door, the bolt lock still perfectly in place. His eyebrows furrowed in confusion as he dried off and got dressed in the clothing that was too big for his small frame.
He unbolted the door, and started opening it until he heard the conversation coming from the other side. He paused, holding still as he listened.
"For god's sake Brendon! You know it's your own bloody fault!" Jon screamed. His face was slightly red from anger, which contrasted against the concern that hid in his eyes.
"Drop it Jon! You know what they did to me last time! I'm not going to do it again!" Brendon shouted back, sounding frustrated and slightly scared. Ryan felt his heart beat faster as he watched the two boys argue. He didn't know what it was about, but he was sure it was his fault.
"I don't think you have any other options right now. Are you aware of the situation you're in?" Jon asked bending down to meet the pleading eyes of Brendon, who was sitting against one of the pillars.
"They always find me...I just don't think I can take it again." Brendon said, his eyes tearing up at the memory. Jon sighed, hugging him.
"I know kid. But you have to remember where you're at right now. Let's face it, not many places are going to take in an broke, underage, homeless musician. It's you're only choice. Look, I'll give you three days, three days to get to know this kid and decide if he's worth it. If he is, then you know you're going to have to do it. To keep both of you safe." Jon said and Brendon nodded, wiping his tears away with the back of his hand.
Ryan shifted from one foot to another as he closed the door, sitting down on the dusty floor. What in the world were they talking about? He figured when Jon was talking about getting to know someone that it was him, but what would Brendon have to do if he did think he was worth the trouble. His head swam in the questions, more and more forming each second, making him more confused the more time he took to think about it. How did the clothing get on the sink when the door was locked from the inside? Why was Brendon now homeless? What would make Jon kick them out of the top floor? Why in the hell did he care so fucking much?
Ryan sighed a little, deciding that he had three days to answer every question that he had.
Three days.


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Ah, sorry it's so short. I'll make up for it by updating soon. Special thanks to Katrina_Adams, and PartyPoison for reviewing last chapter. As always. I hope you like where this story is going, even if you're not entirely sure what's going to happen. Which is the way I like it.
-xoxo Pansy.