Categories > Celebrities > Panic! At The Disco > The Blossoming of Providence
"First off, I'm surprised you took me so seriously." Ryan says, his legs are criss-crossed on the bed.
"Well why wouldn't I?" I reply, concerned, sitting on a chair next to the bed.
"Either men nod it off or don't bother to care. I never mention it much anyway."
Strange that he'd mention it to someone like me. I don't bother to think twice on the thought. It's hard to find the right words to keep the conversation going.
"Anyway," Ryan concludes, "It all started with my family. My dad was one of those abusive drunks, my mom didn't bother to do anything. It was one of those never ending cycles. Plus the fact that I had no friends at school because they all thought I was a fag."
He giggles briefly before continuing, "I was, of course. I never knew what 'coming out' even meant. I'd strut around and be myself. Eye liner, black nails. Kids started to gang up on me. In the end I had no where to go. I'd hurt myself... a lot."
He shows me his arms.
"You can't really tell, mainly because all my scars are extremely close together, but if you look closely, there's millions of faded mother fuckers."
"Shit, Ryan, that's awful." It burns in my chest. I took him for granted, not realizing how much pain he'd been through.
"Gets better though. When I was completely done with my father, I ran away. In the end I had to make money somehow, so I found a local place where male prostitutes worked. I decided to pitch my tent. I was young, wanted money, and was a goddamn virgin. I wasn't smart either. After a while I ended up being the 'costumer's favorite' which lead me to being highly vulnerable in sex-trafficking. That's exactly what happened to me."
"Dallon bought you..."
"He wasn't the first, and for a few times in my life, I thought he was the best. I was wrong." Ryan says, with a disappointing smirk.
"I... I'm so sorry." I tell him with all honesty.
"Everyone would be sorry for me if they knew, but no one cares."
"I care..."
Ryan looks down in his lap, it's as though he doesn't know what to say. I take the opportunity.
"I care, Ryan. About your health and well-being."
"Because you feel bad for me." He says, out of no where.
"I care for anyone whose hurt or in pain."
"You wouldn't have cared if I never mentioned it."
"Ry-"
"I'm right, aren't I?"
"That's not it, it's-"
"In the end you would just think I'm some prostitute sleeping with men and not giving a shit. Being a flirt, living life, even if it isn't the cleanest. It's funny how men think, I give them one look and the next I'm fucking them into some cheap mattress."
"Goddamn it, Ryan I-"
"You're just like everyone else." He says, with a plastered broken smile on his face.
He gets up and starts leaving the room.
For some reason, I decide not to follow him.
"Well why wouldn't I?" I reply, concerned, sitting on a chair next to the bed.
"Either men nod it off or don't bother to care. I never mention it much anyway."
Strange that he'd mention it to someone like me. I don't bother to think twice on the thought. It's hard to find the right words to keep the conversation going.
"Anyway," Ryan concludes, "It all started with my family. My dad was one of those abusive drunks, my mom didn't bother to do anything. It was one of those never ending cycles. Plus the fact that I had no friends at school because they all thought I was a fag."
He giggles briefly before continuing, "I was, of course. I never knew what 'coming out' even meant. I'd strut around and be myself. Eye liner, black nails. Kids started to gang up on me. In the end I had no where to go. I'd hurt myself... a lot."
He shows me his arms.
"You can't really tell, mainly because all my scars are extremely close together, but if you look closely, there's millions of faded mother fuckers."
"Shit, Ryan, that's awful." It burns in my chest. I took him for granted, not realizing how much pain he'd been through.
"Gets better though. When I was completely done with my father, I ran away. In the end I had to make money somehow, so I found a local place where male prostitutes worked. I decided to pitch my tent. I was young, wanted money, and was a goddamn virgin. I wasn't smart either. After a while I ended up being the 'costumer's favorite' which lead me to being highly vulnerable in sex-trafficking. That's exactly what happened to me."
"Dallon bought you..."
"He wasn't the first, and for a few times in my life, I thought he was the best. I was wrong." Ryan says, with a disappointing smirk.
"I... I'm so sorry." I tell him with all honesty.
"Everyone would be sorry for me if they knew, but no one cares."
"I care..."
Ryan looks down in his lap, it's as though he doesn't know what to say. I take the opportunity.
"I care, Ryan. About your health and well-being."
"Because you feel bad for me." He says, out of no where.
"I care for anyone whose hurt or in pain."
"You wouldn't have cared if I never mentioned it."
"Ry-"
"I'm right, aren't I?"
"That's not it, it's-"
"In the end you would just think I'm some prostitute sleeping with men and not giving a shit. Being a flirt, living life, even if it isn't the cleanest. It's funny how men think, I give them one look and the next I'm fucking them into some cheap mattress."
"Goddamn it, Ryan I-"
"You're just like everyone else." He says, with a plastered broken smile on his face.
He gets up and starts leaving the room.
For some reason, I decide not to follow him.
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