[ SWEET TALK 101 ] [ Ryan Ross & William Beckett ] .002

I roll my neck backwards, trying to rid of the horrible aching pain in it. Hot water drips down my face in the steaming shower, clearing the tired expression on it. It's not unusual these days for me to shower at 5:00 in the evening. I'm awake all night and morning and then sleep around 2:00 PM. I wake up involuntarily a couple hours later. Something just doesn't want me to sleep these days...

I have a faint idea of what it is but I can't admit it. I just can't. Especially not to myself.

I close my eyes and take a deep breath, slow and calm. Despite the hot water beating down on it, my skin is cold. And I am weak.

I slowly wash off the last suds of soap on my body and turn off the water. I'm in no hurry. There's nothing to be excited for. Brendon and I aren't on good speaking terms right now, not since the incident two weeks ago at the label party. Normally when I'm stuck at my apartment, he's the first one I call to get his ass over here and entertain me. But he just doesn't want to talk to me. I wonder when he'll come around. Couple days, couple months...

Nah. It'll be soon enough.

I pull a towel off the rack and wrap it around my waist. I sense that familiar freezing feeling. I shiver in a way that is more like a twitch and I'm about to leave the bathroom to retrieve some clothes when something stops me. My performance outfit is hung up on the back of the bathroom door. It's still shiny and clean-cut, not having been worn since its last wash. I touch the red roses on it and fall into a short trance. I don't know why, but the feeling reminds me of you. And the way I touched your baby-soft face. And the way you touched mine and were so afraid to let go.

Now I know why.

I miss you. There, I said it. I wish you would call me or something. But you just left me after that night. I knew you would. I know how guys like you work. Well, at least now I do. Why would you say such things to me and do such things with me just to leave me in the end? I never really thought you were that heartless, William. When you first kissed me, I didn't know what to think of it, but...I kind of thought you meant it. I am so stupid.

So I'm not going to assume anymore. I'm not going to fall for someone after only the contact of salicious attacks and a few lies. Perfect? Fuck you. I'm not even close to perfect. And neither are you. I'm not going to miss you anymore.

I feel my chin raise slightly. I tear my eyes away from my costume and open the door, proceeding down the hall to my bedroom. Walking through my bedroom door I realize the moisture in my eyes isn't from the shower. I choke back the stupid tears and feel that burning, hating feeling in my throat. I gasp slightly in the pain of holding back. Then I realize what I came in here to do. I look around. My room's a mess. I probably haven't slept in here in a long, long time though. I usually fall asleep on the couch, either with a pen and notebook on my chest or a bottle of alcohol spilling off the couch in a waterfall-like fashion.

I cross the room and grab some clothes out of the dresser. It's dark in the room, even though the sun is still fully out. I like to keep the rooms dark. It makes me feel safe in a way, knowing it's more difficult for people to see me. Brendon used to say I was paranoid, when we'd wake up in my bedroom at noon and it would appear like midnight. It's gotten worse since then though. Since Brendon and I broke up, and since you walked in out of nowhere. Or more like forced yourself in. I didn't ask you to fuck up my life.

I had just put on a pair of tight black jeans and reached for my shirt when once again, my actions were interrupted. Something just does not want me to get dressed. There was a knock on the door. I looked through the open door to my bedroom and out at the door to my apartment. Who the fuck could that be... I sighed and left the room, proceeding down the hall again. I hesitated for half a second but then reached for the doorknob and pulled the door open.

There you are, standing in my fucking doorway. I stand there and gape at you for more than two seconds, and I can feel you kind of doing the same. After the shock, I become uncomfortable and wish I could've taken those two seconds to throw my shirt on instead. I shiver again as the open door brings in colder air from the hallway of the apartment building. I fold my arms and feel my back slump a little. Then you step toward me and wrap your arms around me. You're so warm...You're wearing several layers of clothes and your body heat is trapped between each layer. I can't help but move closer to you as well.

Your fingers are stroking my quickly drying hair in a familiar style. You pull back and stare in my eyes. Yours are especially bright tonight...There's something there that wasn't there last time. But I can't put my finger on it. Not yet.

"I'm sorry, Ry..." you say in a choked whisper. "I'm sorry I...left you..."

I jerk uncontrollably and my hands release from your body.

"Are you okay?" you ask quickly.

I don't know what to do. I'm freaking out again. I need alcohol.

I pace rapidly to the kitchen and search through the refrigerator. I feel you at my heels. "Ryan, what are you...what are you doing?"

I find a bottle of vodka in the back. I reach for it but you seem to realize what I'm up to, and you slap away my hand from the shelf. "What are you doing?" you ask again, more heavily. Not in a fatherly way or an overprotective way...but in a scared way. Finally, William, you know what it feels like to be scared. In a much more different way than almost getting banged against a brick wall, but, at least you know.

You slam the refrigerator door shut. I feel my hands curl into angry fists, even in knowing I wouldn't dare hit you. You look at me and your hands grasp my shoulders. "Is this what you've been doing the past two weeks, Ryan? Sitting here and getting wasted and waiting for someone to save you? What would've happened if I hadn't come, Ry?" you add less seriously. You actually begin speaking as if the situation is comical. "Where would you be without me?"

I feel my eyes narrow. You came here to fight with me and all I want is you back...

Fuck you.

I push you back against the refrigerator, harder than intended, and force my lips on yours, and you instantly consent. My legs begin to twist with yours and you pick me up effortlessly, and I wrap my legs around your waist. I kiss you harder than I think I've ever kissed anyone. Your lips feel so perfect against mine. I've never felt that from anyone before you.

But before I know it, your lips part from mine and you set me down on one of the chairs at the kitchen table. You barely look at me before turning around on your heel and proceeding back to the small kitchen. You lean over a counter and stand there. I watch you fight yourself for breath as I do the same. Then suddenly, you do the strangest thing: you stand up straight...and start going through my cabinets and drawers. I am lightheaded and watching you makes me even more dizzy. I pull my right leg up onto the chair and rest my head on my knee. The only sounds in the room are our heavy breathing and the clanking of metal and glass as you take out a glass bowl and a spoon from my cabinets. I start to watch you again and you pull out my only box of cereal out of a cabinet and my full carton of milk out of the refrigerator. I watch as you bring the bowl of cereal across the kitchen and place it in front of me on the table. You sit down as well so that we are both seated at the corner of the table, right next to each other.

I look from the bowl to you, and back and forth. You seem to know what I'm thinking. How do you do that? No one reads minds like William Beckett. I stare at you for a long time until you sigh. "Please eat something, Ry."

It is not until now that I realize I haven't said a thing to you this whole time. I clear my throat, a bit painfully. "Why are you here?" I whisper.

You lean over a little and rest the palm of your hand on my knee. "I was worried...I called Brendon and he said he hadn't heard from you-"

My jaw drops. "He expects me to call him?!"

"Sh, sh," you say as your hand starts to move around and try to quiet me, and to no surprise, it does. "We all just miss you, Ry..."

My eyes drift away from you in a false resentment. "How can you miss me? You never even knew me..."

I can hear you roll your eyes at me. "You know I'm sorry about that night. I don't know what came over me..." Your warm hand still rests safely on my knee. "You were just there...And so...alone..." Just as my eyes find their way back to yours, yours back away. "It was like there was only three people at that party. Everyone else was just one person, one person that didn't matter. Then there was me. And you." You start speaking like you're working out a mathematical problem, slowly. "And it was like if you left, I had to leave too because at that point me without you just didn't seem right, even if you didn't know it yet." You pause and finally look me in the eyes again. "Do you know it now?"

Holy crap.

You read minds and steal hearts.

I spring up from my chair and then I am in yours, my legs around your waist, my hands in your hair, my lips on yours. I feel how surprised you are but how quickly you give in. Your hands roam over my thin, bare chest and finally up to my face, where you steady my head in your hands, making sure I won't pull away. God, it's not like I plan on going anywhere soon.

Your tongue pushes through my lips without warning. My throat soughed softly and I feel you hold back a smile. No, a smirk. So evil...

I retaliate by biting your lip until I feel blood on mine. You don't seem to care. You suck it in and continue kissing me, your arms wrapped around the waistline of my jeans. You're pulling at them, even though you know they're not coming off. I know you know. I just can't, William. But you keep on tugging anyway.

Then I feel you make a sound of surprise, and you release your lips from mine. I look at you confused, and you nod forward, behind me. I really don't wanna know what the hell you're nodding at. But I look over my shoulder anyway.

Spencer's standing there, in the entry-way of the kitchen. I try to say something but nothing comes out, just a small choked sound. Wow, I'm pathetic.

He doesn't seem surprised or...anything. His hands are in the pockets of his jeans and his expression is completely blank. He sighs.

"Pete wants to know if you've written anything. We all know you don't answer your phone these days," he says in a bored tone, as if nothing strange is going on, as if I'm not straddling William Beckett at my kitchen table. I decide I should get up.

I cough and stand up straight, leaving you alone on the chair. "No, I, uh... Nothing usable."

Spencer nods. "'Kay." And he turns to his right to leave.

"Are you here alone?" I spit out.

He stops and takes a short breath, looking up at the ceiling. "No. Jon and Brendon are outside."

I stay still for a moment, then I'm moving. I'm moving out of the kitchen, through the living room, and I'm opening the door. I don't know what I'm doing and I probably should. That's why I stop right before my hand reaches the door knob.

I then realize you followed me out from the kitchen. "I should go," you say as you're about to brush past me.

"No, stay," I say and put my hand on your chest, preventing you from leaving.

"Well," Spencer says a bit louder. "I don't really care what the fuck you two do. I'm leaving."

He pushes between me and you and opens the door. My band hates me. This could be the only chance I have to fix that. But I'm not taking it. Take it. Just do it.

You read my thoughts again. "It's not you they hate, Ry," you say quietly. "I gotta go." The door is still wide open and the band still hasn't left, so I understand why you barely touch me as a goodbye. Your fingers just kind of graze mine, and you walk out.

You can't leave. They can't leave. If you all leave...I'm nothing.

Then do something.
How can you try to place us all, to fit the shape of... ->
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