Picking Me Up .:[Ryan Ross]:. Breaking Me Down

I yanked my hair up in another loose knot and frowned, propping my hands up on my hips and studying my imperfect image in the mirror. Shaking my head, I turned away. "What do you think?"
Ryan glanced up from his guitar strings, gave me a quick once over, and shrugged lightly. "It's okay." I rolled my eyes as he looked down again, plucking randomly. "Going out with Spencer again?" He added quietly on an afterthought.
"Yeah." I replied nervously, pulling my hair out of the knot and biting my lips. "I don't know. He's too good of a guy to be REAL."
"Oh, he's definitely real." Ryan assured me. "Otherwise, my life is a lie."
I just took what he said for granted. If Spencer was a fake, then Spencer was a fake and I'd been had. If Spencer wasn't a fake, then he wasn't a fake and I was just paranoid. "Cover your eyes, boy." I warned before removing my shirt and carefully placing it in the drawer again. Of course, I didn't really care if he did or not. I knew he respected me enough to a). be subtle if he even decided to look and b). try his best not to objectify my body in the first place.
He's a good kid.
"Ooh, wear the gray shirt." He suggested with a playful grin.
I nudged my closet door open with my toe. "Oh, you're fucking HILARIOUS." I muttered, eyes sweeping across my wardrobe that mainly consisted of dark, plain shades. "While I appreciate the laugh, I really could use a bit of help."
Tossing me a lax salute, he rested the guitar on my bed and stood up. "Let's see what your cross-dressing, guy-dating brother hasn't stolen from your closet..." He grinned, tilted his head to the side, and sank into my closet. "You don't have much, but what you do have is nice." He notified me as he disappeared.
I looked at my backside in the mirror. "Thanks. You too." I whistled at him teasingly.
He snorted and rolled his eyes, rummaging through an unpacked box. "I'm just going to go ahead and pretend that you didn't just compliment my ass."
"What ass?" I quipped.
"Oh shut- ooh... this is sexy. How come you don't wear this more often?" He held up a slightly worn Third Eye Blind hoodie with a hole in the sleeve and raised an eyebrow at me skeptically.
I took it from him and looked it over. In all honesty, I didn't know. "Because I have a best friend who thinks it's sexy and would wear it in a heartbeat because he knows it would fit him."
Ryan lifted one shoulder in a half-hearted shrug. "Can't argue with that." Mischief flickered across his face. "You know who else thinks that Third Eye Blind is sexy?"
"RYAN!" I yelled, socking him in the chest. "Go play your fucking guitar."
Trotting back dutifully to my bed and giggling, he rubbed his injury. "Your face is red." He pointed out quickly.
"THANK YOU, Captain Obvious." I groaned, covering my face with the hoodie.
"You're still not wearing a shirt."
"And whose fault would THAT be?" I muttered, embarrassed slightly because I was just now realizing this. The moment was narrated by a perfect scale cascade and a slightly amused laugh from Ryan.
I pulled the hoodie over my arms and zipped it up the front, scrutinizing it in the mirror. "Wait," Ryan interjected. I glanced at him. "Put your hair up in that knot that looked like shit before." Frowning at the supposedly encouraging suggestion, I twisted my hair around my finger and looped it through again. Nodding, Ryan smiled. "Perfect."
I crossed my eyes at him. "Not anymore."
"It's alright. You're only wearing a bra under that... he'll forget about perfection if you flash him a couple times." He replied jokingly. Naturally, I felt my arms tense up. I knew he was kidding, but what if... "Oh, no." Ryan gasped suddenly. "Oh no no no no no!" He dropped his guitar on the bed and rubbed his cheeks in mock agony. "You doubt me! You're a pessimist!"
"Oh, so now it's not okay to be nervous?" I huffed as the buzzer for the apartment building caught my attention for a brief second.
Ryan stood up from the bed. He took his time, which annoyed me to some extent because even though I was fully aware that I was about to go on a date with his other best friend, I still didn't want to make a bad impression. When he FINALLY reached me, I thought I would smack him. He grabbed my hand first, though. "Don't be scared." He said softly.
"What...?" I said, trying to laugh and relieve a bit of the tension. He smiled.
"I know you are. And it's okay. If you don't think you're good enough for Spencer, the only thing I'll call you is crazy and that would be the end of it. But if this is something that you really, really don't want to do, you know that you don't have to do it." He was completely calm and serious and collected... and not at all demanding. "You can be scared that you won't be accepted into NYU in the fall. You can be scared that when I go home, I could get into a fatal car wreck." I sucked in a breath. "You could be scared of anything at all... but you don't have to be. It's going to be alright."
It was at that second that, more than any other time in my life; I had truly been envious of Ryan Ross.
He had control. More importantly, he knows what's going on in my head.
A quality that I myself haven't decided how to practice yet.
I had realized that when he talked, it wasn't like he always tried to imply things. Everyone DOES imply things whether they want to or not, but he seemed so... true to what he was saying. He had just said that if this was something I didn't want to do, that I didn't have to do it.
For one brief second, I had seriously considered doing something that I'd never really thought about thinking about doing before.
But I didn't.
"Uhh..." I blinked and rubbed my cheeks with the back of my free hand. If only my hoodie would put out flames... "Oh, no. Yeah. I know what you mean." I finally said, nodding. "And thanks. I mean... yeah. Thanks."
Ryan eventually let go of my hand, and I said my goodbye, and he told me to have a good time and do a few things I shouldn't do. I rolled my eyes and pulled the door shut behind me, realizing that there was one thing about Ryan that would always make my stomach roll, other than his puppy dog eyes.
No matter how much I tried or didn't try.
No matter how many shades of gray I had.
Not even if I stuttered when he said important things.
He'd always think I was perfect, with all of my imperfections.
Spencer was defaulted to think that I was perfect, because as every girl knows, if the guy doesn't treat you like the fucking princess, he's out. Not that I have anything against Spencer, who seemed too good to be real.
It's just that Ryan seemed too real to be good.
The good and the bad times... we've been through them all.
And yet, still, he seems to look at me the same way. You'd think that a girl like me would jade a guy over the years, but apparently not.
I hesitated, hand still on the door. I had a definite choice to make, and forgive me if it seems obvious, but I honestly didn't know.
"You still out there?" Ryan called from inside. I gritted my teeth, trying to decide. "If you're going, then go."
Then it hit me like a brick in the face.
I knew what I had to do.

Said it makes you want to fall in love... [<3]
... or be smart enough to keep your distance. [< \3]