FicWad

By the time I had reached home the rest of the world had woken up. The few birds we had were out in the tress, flying around from house to house. People had crowded the streets, looking for a place with cheap coffee for the rest of their day, or to fight a hangover. My next-door neighbor was out front, watering bushes that needed water daily to stay alive in the heat. She grinned when she saw me, her long grey hair rustling in the dry breeze. I wished that the day had been like the day before, because the static air was seriously getting to me.
"Ryan, I haven't seen you for a while. I got some new blue crown passion flowers and some blue jasmine. I would love it if you came to plant them for me." I gave her a smile and nodded my head, looking at my watch.
"I have school today, but I'll stop by before going home." She nodded happily, going back to watering her plants while humming a tune. I walked inside, kicking my shoes off by the door after I closed and locked it.
There was something, off, but I couldn't tell what. When I walked into the living room I found my father sitting on the couch, empty bottles scattered around him. He was staring blankly at the the spot where the TV rested, despite the fact that it wasn't turned on. His glazed over eyes made him look dead, the only light coming from that of the window nearby. I stared at him for a moment, surprised that my mother would let him get away with this behavior, and then everything clicked.
"Where's mom?" He broke his dead stare at the wall to look over at me, but he didn't say a word, just stared like a broken man. I broke the staring contest, walking upstairs. I walked down the hall that lead to my room, stopping to look in on my parents bedroom, checking to see if my mothers things were still there. I gave a sigh of relief, walking back to my room. She wasn't gone, not yet at least.
Spencer sat down next to me at our usual spot for lunch. "How was the blond?" I laughed, using a pocket knife to carve words into the wooden table.
"Fake, like always." He nodded, lighting a cigarette. "What about the redhead?" He shook his head.
"Didn't leave with her." I looked up at him. He shrugged. "She offered, but I wanted to stay and drink. It's not like I had to go home." He was silent for a moment, taking a long drag of his cigarette before speaking once more. "Maria's going to die." I couldn't look at him. He was staring at the table with the same blank expression my father had earlier in the morning. Looking up I saw Brendon walking by, moving his body in a way that I swear he used just to drive me crazy. I grinned involuntarily when I saw him, hearing Spencer talking by me, watching him walking away from me. "You know the worst part? My parents won't even let me see her."
I nodded my head, gathering my things while standing up. "That's great Spence, I'll see you later." I followed Brendon, calling after him. He stopped, turning around with a smile while I caught up to him. "Where are you going?" He shrugged.
"Thought I'd go out to eat today." I smiled at him.
"Great, I'll buy." He laughed, taking my hand.
"You're so weird." He lead me to a small dinner, taking a booth in the back. I realized that I didn't have much money, only enough for one meal really, so I got a soda, Brendon deciding that a stack of pancakes with a large dollop of whipped cream and syrup was the perfect thing for lunch. He got somewhat defensive when I commented on it, saying that it was his lunch and he would eat whatever he wanted. I couldn't argue with that.
Brendon leaned back in his side of the booth when he was finished eating, smiling continently at me. "Do you want to go to the movies? There's this new one that came out yesterday that I've been waiting to see. And you know, there won't be any annoying teenagers since there all still in school." I grinned at him.
"Of course." He smiled and looked down at his chocolate milkshake; I wondered how someone of his size could eat so much sugar and still be as thin as he was. He looked back up at me, his long eyelashes fluttering in a stunning way.
"What?" He was giving me a lopsided smile, but his tone was almost defiant. I continued to grin at him, laughing ever so slightly.
"Nothing." I shook my head, still laughing slightly. "I just think this could count as our first date." He blushed and looked down, his lopsided grin shrinking ever so slightly.
"I hate that word." I tilted my head, leaning back in my seat as I watched him stir his milkshake with a long silver spoon.
"Why is that?" His eyes glanced up at me, dark and demanding that I stop talking. And I knew that I should have stopped, but I couldn't.
"It just..It's like giving a commitment to someone when you don't even know if they deserve it. Half of the time it just ends in heartbreak, and when it doesn't immediately you end up there in the end."
"But isn't the journey worth the heartbreak?" He looked back up at me.
"Maybe it will be, with you."
Brendon payed for the movie tickets since I bought lunch. He chose the movie, getting snacks as I got us seats in the back. When he found me he raised a brow.
"A seat in the back?" He gave a small smirk. "Planning on giving me a blow job?" I snorted shaking my head.
"Like you deserve it. I like sitting in the back because I can kick my feet up on the seat in front of me and all of the crazies will be down there." He nodded his head, holding a smile that said he didn't still believe me. He sat down next to me, opening a bag of some kind of candy. I stared in amazement, curious as to how he could ingest so much sugar and still be fine.
"You know, I was wondering, how did you know that I had a camera?" He shook his head, munching on his candy as the trailers started to play.
"I didn't. You just, seem like the type that would have one. Kind of like the type of person who would see it as a metaphor for life or something." I laughed a little, before realizing that I had said that before when Spencer asked me why I liked cameras so much.
Because photography is a lot like life. There are different settings; different ways you can live it and take pictures. There are different shutter speeds to change the way your picture turns out; different exposures to different things in your life that will change the end product. There are different kinds of film, colored, black and white, different types of details that get put into it. The zoom making it to where you only have to focus on one subject matter, ignoring the rest of the world around you. And on top of all of that, there are the different kinds of cameras; Holgas, Brownies, Canons, Kodak, Nikon, and so many more. There are so many different ways you can compare them to life and how the photo will turn out.
But I didn't say any of this to Brendon.
"No, my grandma left me her cameras. She bought me everything I know about them." He nodded his head, and gave a small smile.
"So that's it?" I shook my head, shifting in my seat. We were whispering, the few people in the theater trying to enjoy the movie as we chatted.
"I like photographs. I think they all tell different stories. People's lives, what happened to them up until that photo was taken. There's something about snapshots that I just love." He was silent for a moment.
"I'm the same way with books. Obviously not new ones or anything, but you go to thrift stores and find ones that have writing in them; notes from when they were given as a present, or little messages to the future reader that's written in the margins. There's something about the stories they can tell, that I love." I leaned my head on his shoulder.
"Is it surprising that we think a like?" I asked with a small smile.
"Not really." He said with a small laugh.
We watched the rest of the movie in silence, generally enjoying each others company. He was probably focusing on the movie, I was too busy listening to his heartbeat to care about what was going on in the movie. It was nice; listing to him breathe steadily during the almost silent parts of the film, the way he shifted his arm to rest around my shoulder, his warmth. The movie ended all too soon.
I sat upright in my seat when other people started to get up to leave. Brendon turned to look at me, a smug smirk on his face.
"What?" I asked as I raised a brow. He laughed a little.
"You're such a girl." I smiled at him. He was stunning in the dim light. Big chocolate eyes laughing at me with his smug smile still on his face.
"Can I kiss you?" I didn't wait for him to answer, moving so I was partially sitting on his lap, my lips against his as I tangled my fingers in his hair. He gave a soft moan when I ran my tongue along his lips, taking my hips in his hands so he could make it to where I was sitting on his lap all the way. The kiss was needy and desperate, to say the least. He opened his mouth, allowing me to slip my tongue in and explore his candy coated mouth. His hands moved to the hem of my shirt, one of them slipping under to feel my skin. And it was odd, the way we were making out like mormon filled teenagers, but that's what we were.
He must have figured out what were doing, because he stopped what he had been doing, pulling away as he pushed me away.
"What are we doing?" He asked with genuine confusion.
"I thought you knew." He shook his head.
"I don't want this…Well, I do, but not yet." He sighed, running a hand through his messy hair. "Look, I like you Ryan, but I think we should take it slow." I smiled at him.
"Of course." I got up, and he stood.
"Why don't we do something tomorrow?" I nodded.
"Sure. Right, how about a few hours after school or something." He smiled.
"I'd like that." He gave me a small kiss before walking off. I watched the door he had walked out of, giving it a minute before letting it resister enough for me to move. I made my way home, but didn't dare to go in. Instead I went next door, knocking on the old women's house so I could help her with what she needed. The door opened and I was lead to the back where saplings waited to be planted. She gave a kind smile, thanking me for my help as we repotted and planted the colorful plants.
"You seem happy today, Ryan." She beamed at me.
"Do I?" I smiled to myself; I wasn't aware I could seem happy.
"So what's her name?" My heart stopped for a moment before picking back up again.
"It's not a girl." Why bother lying to someone who doesn't care?
"Ah, you know, I always thought you would find a nice boy. So then, what's his name?"
I blushed a little, thinking about the way he looked when he walked out of the theater; the way his body moved. "Brendon."
"That's a lovely name." I smiled, thinking about what would happen the next day, wanting nothing more than to be with him again.
"Yeah, it really is."


~~~~~

Can anyone else smell disaster in the air?

TheAnonymous: I wish it were real. I would spend all of my free time there if it were. I'm happy, as always, to hear that you like it. I promise I'll keep going until it's tragic end.

MySuicideInSilence: It would be fun to live the life they lead, but you can only do so much. Like I said before, I'll keep writing until it's end.

-xoxo Pansy.