Tuesday
7:51 AM
hall
Looking down at my schedule, I recognize every single teacher, and oh, it amplifies the feeling of how good it feels to be back. Chicago was where I was meant to be. Moving back to Chicago was the right move, for my entire family. Everything I lived for was here, and yet, I still have this chance to start over.
I give my sister a hug, who is a freshman this year, and she's shaking in her Converse sneakers. "You're gonna be fine," I say to her and look around as I bend down to lock my neck with hers, almost regretting it when she doesn't let go. "You'll be late..." I say in a teasing voice and then she rolls her eyes and smiles, walking to her first class. I watch her and smile as well. I remember being a freshman. I remember going through that same hell that everyone else had to go through. But somehow, I don't remember it as much of a hell. I remember that age. It was kind of an amazing time.
But then I remember why. I can deny it, and I can try to forget him, but everything about him is embedded into my brain. Especially when I see him ahead of me, walking alone. My jaw drops.
He grew up so much. His hair is shorter than how he used to style it. Somehow it looks lighter but I don't think it really is. And his legs. It's like the rest of his body remained the same and his legs sprouted from the ground up, only adding to his already perfect figure. But what am I thinking? I'm over him. I have more than moved on. Actually, I can barely even believe he's here right now. I thought he would have moved right after I did. Yes, he depended on me that much. And it's pathetic.
I walk past him and somehow, he runs straight into me. I look at him and realize he had been looking the other way. He looks down at me in disbelief. His brown eyes are suddenly alive and breathing. His skin suddenly looks more fresh than it did ten seconds ago. Seeing him again is like seeing a bad horror movie for the umpteenth time. Thinking of the things I once did with this kid makes me cringe, literally. I can feel the bad kind of goosebumps crawl up and down my skin. Finally, the smallest smile breaks out on his lips. He's feeling the good kind of goosebumps. "Brendon...what-what are you-?"
"I moved back," I explain simply. "I thought you would have left this place though," I add in a mumble.
He bites his lip and somehow, his eyes die again. "Why would you think that?"
I would say why I think so. But I don't want to break his little heart right here in front of all these people. His heart is fragile. Like glass. Like antique China. Like the $4000 guitar you can hold but can't buy. But what's unbelievable is... I once had Ryan Ross' heart. It was all mine. And then I threw it to the floor and left it there to decay.
And my metaphors are practically cracking me up on the inside.
After not saying anything for a bit, Ryan's smile returns. "But you came back," he whispers, taking a step toward me. "You came back for me..."
"No. I didn't," I say firmly, quickly correcting his wrong idea. Ryan's eyebrows furrow, and it's hard to tell what's going on in his head. I sigh. "I don't want you anymore, Ryan. I... I don't need you anymore."
I watch the insides of his eyes turn slightly red. Then a deeper red. "You don't mean that," he says quietly, and his adam's apple moves more rapidly, and I know I really am breaking his heart. I didn't really want to, but I'm not going to let him think I came back to Chicago to pick up on our... our thing from ninth grade. That was pointless and stupid and wrong. And now, if I could erase that year from my life, I would.
My eyes dart away uncomfortably. "I do." And I turn away to head to English class, but he grabs my hand. I clench my teeth unhappily. I knew Ryan wouldn't take no for an answer. All he ever wanted to hear was yes. "Brendon, will you stay with me tonight?" "Yes." "Brendon, will you dance with me?" "Yes." "Brendon, will you cover for me while I overdose on my medication?" "Yes." That kid really put me through hell. He really knew how to stress a boyfriend. But he also knew how to love me. And make me realize how much I didn't love him back.
His hand still feels the same. Long, veiny fingers. I snatch my hand back from him and feel something cold along the way. I look down at Ryan's hand which is suspended in mid shock, and I see the ring I gave him for his birthday only days before ninth grade. My jaw drops and my lips snarl at the same time. I'm disgusted. I'm appalled. I'm... I'm just shocked. How could someone hold on for so long?
I look at him and his eyes are more fearful than I have ever seen them. "You still have it?!" I shout, grabbing the attention of a few people. "What's...What's your problem?!"
Almost everyone around us is watching now. I stare at Ryan in disbelief, anger. I don't sympathize for him at all when his chin begins to tremble and he mouths the words, "I loved you" subtle enough for only me to be able to tell. There is some kind of emotion conjuring in my stomach, but it isn't sympathy.
I have nothing left to say. And I hope I never have to say anything to Ryan Ross ever again. But until then, I have to know one thing. I take a step toward him and whisper in a hard tone, "Don't dare fucking tell me you haven't been with a single person since I left."
I am around eye level with Ryan's chin and I can see him gulp. Then he gasps slightly for breath, and he turns on his heel. He walks away and the farther he gets, the faster he walks. By the time he reaches the turn out of the hallway, he dashes.
If this really is the kind of horror movie that I hate, then cue the ghosts.
click
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