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major tw, read with caution//

Ryan knew he didn't have time to feel awful about what he said. He didn't have time to say sorry over and over to Brendon. Saying sorry is funny, Ryan observed; you never really know if someone means it or not. It can be broken shells of sorry or passionate, meaningful showers of sorry. Right now, Ryan wanted to give Brendon that meaningful sorry, but he barely had any time to since he had to go meet Sarah and Spencer while his father was still asleep.

Ryan put on his usual clothes - a striped shirt, a vest, a scarf, jeans - before exiting his rooms and tiptoeing past his dad. As he crept closer to the front door, he felt his anxiety building up. His whole body was sweating as his hand slowly grew closer to the doorknob, and as his small, bony fingers twisted around it and he heard the sadly unfamiliar click, his father stirred awake and reacted harshly to his son's neatly dressed figure opening the door, ready to go out somewhere, when he was practically forbidden to go out at this time.

"Ryan," his father began slowly, "what the hell are you doing?"

"Um, I w-was j-just going o-outside..." Ryan said nervously, swallowing the huge lump in his throat.

"Are you allowed to go outside, Ryan?" his father asked, standing up from his chair and slowly getting closer to Ryan, "we don't have to go over this again, do we?"

"N-no, d-dad, there's n-no n-need..." Ryan said, his voice breaking slightly. He hated when he stuttered. It made him seem even more weak and pathetic, especially since he only stuttered when he was near people who he was intimidated or threatened by; it's like whenever he's near someone like that, he's so terrified that his brain can't form proper words. That and because of the fact that his dad had hit him in the throat a few times, damaging a few vocal cords, so an occasional slip-up in a conversation was normal for him.

"You're disregarding my rules right now, Ryan," he replied as his large figure towered over Ryan's fragile, lanky one. Ryan hated how his father was so used to yelling at him while intoxicated that he didn't even slur while doing it anymore. "Where are you going?"

Ryan shifted his eyes from his dad's disgusted face to the floor. He couldn't look him in the face. Should he lie to him or tell him the truth? Ryan was absolutely awful at lying. The last time he lied to his dad, he was punished, and he was punished thoroughly. Although, telling the truth would give him the same consequences, wouldn't it? "I-I j-just...w-wanted to look a-at the s-sky," Ryan felt his face heat up as he said it. He attempted hiding his face from his dad.

"Look out your fucking window. What were you really doing? Don't fucking lie to me. You don't want me to hit you again, do you? Mess up your vocal cords some more? Give you a couple more bruises? You're lucky you're even alive still, you know that right? You're lucky I haven't fucking strangle--"

Ryan swung his fist without thinking - he'd never done that before, never imagined doing that before. His dad was just as startled as he was, staring at Ryan in shock as he cupped his already bruising cheek; which was weird, Ryan thought, since usually, he was the one leaving bruises on Ryan. "L-leave me the fuck a-alone," Ryan choked out with a broken, raw voice, "just...f-fuck off."

His dad would obviously never let Ryan get away with that. Raising his beer bottle towards Ryan, Ryan quickly moved out of the way before grabbing another bottle on the counter and smashing it over his dad's head. Hard enough to make him faint, but not hard enough to kill him, of course. Ryan stood atop his dad's passed out body (which was a normal sight, but under these circumstances, Ryan was horrified), trembling in fear, tears brimming his eyes, his hands cupped over his mouth. He hadn't meant to do that, no not at all. He would never intentionally do that to anyone, even if they had been hurting him so much for years. All Ryan could do was pray that his dad wouldn't remember anything when he woke up as he swiftly walked out of the house, on his way to meet Spencer and Sarah.

~

Obviously, Ryan got some strange stares walking around with blood on his hand and bruises decorating his body. He looked like he could be both a killer and a murderer, it all depended on the perspective. He just hoped no one would get the wrong idea and call the cops on him. God, wouldn't that be lucky?

See, this is why you should have never spoke to Brendon, he thought, look at what a mess you are. Why would he ever want to be friends with you if he knew about this? If anything, he should be scared of you. He should cower in fear at the mention of your name, because that's how unlikable you are.

Ryan's thoughts were interrupted as he stepped into the park and nostalgic voices rang through his ears.

"Ryan!!"

Spencer and Sarah stood in front of him, their eyes watering and their mouths gaping. "I didn't think you'd actually come," Sarah said after a moment of silence. Their eyes then observed Ryan - all his cuts and bruises and the now dried blood on him.

"What happened, Ryan?" Spencer asked worriedly as a tear ran down his cheek. They wrapped Ryan in a bear hug and the only thing Ryan replied with were sobs.

"I-I'm s-so s-sorry," Ryan cried into Sarah's shoulder as he wrapped his arms around the both of them, "I-I'm an aw-awful f-friend..."

"No, Ry, that was wrong of me to yell at you. It isn't your fault, it never was. Your dad was just evil, you know that. He hid you from us. I'm sure you didn't want that," Spencer said soothingly, "it's okay. We don't even have to talk about it. We forgive you, Ry."

This only made Ryan cry harder. He felt so pathetic. They were hugging him and showering him with love and his heart ached because he abandoned these people that cared about him more than anything. "A-awful..." he repeated, but Spencer and Sarah only shushed him.

"Amazing," Sarah corrected, pulling away from the hug, along with Spencer. "Look at you," she said and lightly touched his nose, "look at what he's doing to you."

"I-I know, I," Ryan stammered, and looked away quickly. He was ashamed to show his face with all of its scars.

"You're stuttering, Ry," Spencer noted, "did he do that too?"

Ryan only nodded, again, shamefully. He opened his mouth to tell him that it was only because he was scared of Spencer and Sarah for being mad at him, but that sounded even more pathetic, wasn't it? He was a disgrace, wasn't he? They'd probably call him worthless and disgusting. Say that he's ugly and the bruises suit him. He's such a nerd for his stuttering, and he's always--

"We're going to help you, Ryan, and that's final. We've already told the police before we got here, just please trust us this time and don't defend your dad this time either, okay?" Sarah said softly. "Can you tell us what happened with all that blood?"

"N-no, don't, p-please," Ryan pleaded. He didn't want the police involved. Where would he live? Would he have to live in an orphanage until he turned eighteen? What about his education? Would he have to move to a different state?

"Ryan, you can go to school with us again. You can live with me. Everything will be fine, okay?" Spencer begged. "You can go out with us and hear Brendon sing in real life."

Brendon.

He'd be able to finally see Brendon.

That's what scared him, but Ryan couldn't protest at this point. He wanted his dad to get in trouble this time. He wanted him to rot in jail where he belonged. With his dad gone, Ryan's face could finally clear up from bruises permanently. His body would no longer be sore all the time. He could see the light of day whenever he wanted to, and he could see his friends every single day. What more could he ask for? So, Ryan agreed and he explained everything to them and the police. The police drove them to Ryan's house, and there his dad was, still passed out on the floor. After his dad regained consciousness, they questioned him and all evidence was held against him. Ryan wasn't charged for anything because he had only hit him once as self defense. Ryan finally smiled for the first time in years.

That was until Brendon Urie showed up at the scene.

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