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Jon was awoken when there was loud knocking on the door. He mumbled a profanity, waiting for Ryan to answer it. After a minute, there was another knock.
"Ryan!" Jon screamed, not wanting to get up. "Get the fucking door!" He rolled over, falling off the couch and onto the hard and stained tiled floor. He groaned when there was no sign of Ryan going towards the door. He pushed himself up, dragging his body to the door, opening it with an unhappy frown. It took him a moment to process the sight that stood in front of him. One prefect Brendon, and a messed up Spencer.
"Can we talk?" Spencer asked. Jon nodded, going towards the living room. Brendon seemed disgusted by the small apartment, Spencer just seemed curious. "This is where you've been living for the past week?" Jon looked back at Spencer, nodding as he sat down on the couch, patting the spot next to him. Spencer sat down next to him.
"What a fucking dump." Brendon muttered. "Where's Ryan?" He asked after a moment. Jon shrugged.
"I dunno. Not here." Jon said with a small sigh. "If he were here he would have answered the door."
"Right. Okay. I think I'm going to go then. Good luck working everything out you two." Brendon walked out of the apartment, happy to be out of the rundown building, though slightly worried about where Ryan had wondered off to.
"Why did Brendon want to see Ryan?" Jon asked his brows furrowed. Spencer shifted uncomfortably on the frayed couch, wanting to get out of the dirty apartment.
"He wanted to talk to him about some stuff. I'm not really sure what." Spencer said rubbing his face roughly. The two sat there awkwardly for a minute, both not knowing what to say.
"Look, Spence. I'm really sorry I left." Jon said looking down at his hands. Spencer smiled slightly, allowing his head to drop on Jon's shoulder.
"I know. If I could take back all of the arguments that we've had this past month, then you know I would. I still love you Jon, and I really want this to work. For us to work." Jon looked at Spencer, who smiled reassuringly at him.
"Are you sure?" Jon asked, trying to be as calm as possible.
"Only if you promise to never fucking scare me like that." Jon smiled.
"I promise. I love you too Spence, I really want to spend the rest of my life with you." Spencer's smile quickly grew into a large grin.
"You're so cheesy Jon." Spencer kissed him, both boys smiling like crazy. "But I love you for it." The two sat there for a moment, both happy to be together again. But being in the small and dirty apartment made Spencer extremely uncomfortable. He couldn't imagine what it was Ryan had done to end up in a hell hole like the room he was in. "What do you say we go out for a movie?" Jon smiled.
"Sure." The two stood, walking out the door. Both looked like they had been through hell and back, but neither cared as they went out to spend time together.

Ryan sat at the bar, feeling cold and alone. He was rejected. Dejected. No one wanted him. Not a soul. His family didn't want him, his 'friends' didn't need him. So why was he still breathing? All the things in life that were supposed to make people happy were gone. He was fired from the only job he loved because the only person he loved's heart broke. Sure, he had tried to take matters into his own hands, but it just wasn't working.
He took a sip from the brown bottle he had been given.
He was kicked out of his 'nice apartment', and didn't have the money for something better. He had to spend all of his money on pills. Ones to stop his heart from hurting, ones to make his headaches go away, others to allow him to sleep without nightmares. He had so many. Three in the morning. Two at lunch. Five at night.
What would Brendon think?
He took another sip from the bottle in his hand.
Ryan missed the old days. He wanted things to go back to the way they were. When not everything in his life was broken. Because at the moment, everything was. Every piece of furniture in his apartment either had a hole in it, or was slowly fraying. The closest thing to a friend he had was in a rut. His dreams had been crushed right before they were a reality.
The bottle was now empty.
The bartender got him another one as his mind continued to explore the situation he found himself in. His mind went back to something that had come up more than once in his line of thought. There was only one question that he had for himself every time that the thought seemed to pass through his head. Could he really do it? The only thing that had been stopping him before was his friends, but it seemed that none of them cared anymore. In fact, it had felt that none of them had cared for a while.
He downed half of the drink.
Ryan would do it. But how? A gun would take to long to get, and he didn't have the money. He could go home and get a knife, but that would give him a chance at seeing Jon. And he knew he wouldn't be able to do it if he saw Jon.
He gave a sigh, drinking more from the bottle.
He could jump off of a building, but that would attract attention, and someone might try and stop him.
Ryan ran a hand through his hair, putting the bottle down along with some money to pay for the bottles he had.
He knew what he was going to do. How he was going to do it. And where.
Ryan walked down a deserted street. It was a bad neighborhood, and everyone tried to avoid it. Something that he knew would work in his favor. He walked up to a small iron and wood bridge, staring out at the raging river that stayed below. He didn't know if it would work, and that's why he had a back up plan. He climbed over the rail, sitting on the small edge, razor in hand.
He tried to think of a reason not to do it. A reason to continue to live in an unforgiving world, but his mind wouldn't allow it. Instead of looking on the bright side, it told him there was none. When he tried to think of the pros, all that came up were cons. He ran a hand through his messy hair, the motion almost making him fall. He closed his eyes, his hands holding tightly onto the edge. He remembered a story that his mother told him when he was younger, one of the few ways she ever interacted with his life. He debated saying it or not, finally deciding that his best memory of his family would be a good last thought. And he already looked crazy, so it wasn't like it was that bad of an idea.
He lit a cigarette, taking a drag as he remembered the first story he was ever told.
"There once was a young couple, a designer, and an actor. The two were sure that it would be forever. One day the actors grandmother told him about a different realm. The designer didn't believe her, the actor took every word to heart. When the grandmother told the boys of a faery circle in her garden, the actor begged his lover to allow them to go. The other boy denied, telling him that it was just some nascence. But the actor didn't believe him.
"They found the actors body a day later, the funeral held three days after. The designer held the ring that the actor had given him, opening it and putting a small amount of his boys hair in it. He didn't want to let go, but as the body started sinking into the ground he knew he had to.
"A few years later the designer went back to the grandmother. The two didn't speak, and that night the designer found himself unable to sleep. He went out to the back, walking in the forest on the edge of the house. He came to a small stream with a rock next to it, and sat down, watching the muddy water flow by. There was a lady watching him, admiring the jacket he wore. He begged her for information as to why they had taken the actor, but she said nothing until he gave her his jacket.
"They had taken his boy, holding him to dance for eternity. The lady watching him disappeared as the sun started to rise, and all hope of him getting the actor back that night was gone. He walked back to the grandmother's house, making another jacket. One that had all of the beauty of the sun.
"That night he went back to the stream, sitting on the rock as he waited. The lady came once more, commenting on the beauty of the jacket he wore. He talked to her, striking up a deal. If he gave her his jacket, she would allow him to see the young actor, and if he recognized the designer, then he would be allowed to leave. The designer agreed, talking to the actor as he tried to show that the younger boy recognized him.
"Just as the sun was starting to rise the boy spoke the designers name, showing that he remembered the other boy. The two left the forest, going back to the house where the designer told him everything that had happened over the years. The two ended up together forever. Just like what was promised." Ryan sighed, tears streaming down his face. He clutched the razor, the sharp metal cutting into the skin on his hand as he tried to calm himself.
His phone started to ring and he pulled it out, calming himself as read the text. It was from Jon. The simple words made his heart break. 'Where are you Ry? We wanna see a movie.' He stared at the phone, debating what to do with it. After a moment, he hit the reply button, simply sending a 'Wouldn't you like to know.' before tossing it into the river that roared beneath him. He knew that Jon didn't really care. Why would he? Ryan was his broken friend, and he didn't even notice how fucked up the younger boy was.
With one last shaky breath Ryan put the razor to the skin on his wrist, pressing down on it as hard as he could. The red liquid that hid behind the skin walls slowly seeped out as he dragged the metal down his arm, trying to hold the screams of pain that were locked in his throat.
When he reached his elbow he tossed the razor into the river. The red on it glistened in the light as it fell, looking like a star that had been stained. He swallowed, quickly becoming lightheaded and dizzy. He thought of Brendon, and how he would take the news when he found out. He was curious to know if Brendon would care. If he would go to his funeral. If he would even HAVE funeral. If Brendon would cry when he found out. If Brendon would ever find out.
He didn't want that to be his last thought, and breathing was becoming hard. Instead he rested his thought on the first time he and Brendon kissed, letting a small smile grace his lips as he remembered the look on Brendon's face when he had pulled away. He had a ridiculously goofy grin, and looked a lot like a child that had just gotten a new toy that they had wanted for years. Ryan laughed a little, feeling utterly crazy as he did so. He liked that being his last thought. He wanted to keep it that way.
So he let go, falling forward.
He crashed, his mind hazy and his breathing constricted.
Yet he was happy.
The river soon became a deep red.


~~~~~

Only two more chapters! The next one will be amazingly short. Can't say how long the last one will be.

marissasorrentino:I'm glad that you like it so far. I've been trying to keep the whole updating regularly thing an actual thing, so some of it might not be as good as it should be.
And yet, you still think it's amazing. :) Which is amazing in itself.

PartyPoison:I'm not the only person that thinks so? :)
I think I am going to write a sequel. A lot of people have been asking for it, I'd be a terrible person NOT to make one.
That's what I've been trying to do! Would you believe me if I told you I still have about three more story ideas even though I'm working on like, what is it now.....five? I'm going with five. I have three more story ideas even though I'm working on five right now, so that's a great achievement.
I felt like it had to be added. And I have the perfect idea for the last chapter, though I can guarantee you right now that you'll need a box of tissues to read it. :)

patdfan:I'm glad your going to keep reading even though it's tough to read. :) It makes me feel amazing to hear you say that. Well, read you telling me that...You know what I mean.
I know what you're talking about. I've only cried in public places twice in the past six years, and both of them were thanks to mental breakdowns. I don't really know if those count or not, but it still sucks.

-xoxo Pansy.