trashmouth [r. tozier]

0.5

chapter five
"Are we okay?"

RYAN FELL silent, her breathing becoming heavy as Richie leaned forward again. "Come on now," Richie shook his head, his hair falling into his eyes. "Aren't you going to tell me?"

Ryan leaned backwards, feeling the cooling touch of porcelain press poshly against the bare skin of her shoulder blades. She was leaving again-- she felt it. Slowly slipping back into her seemingly strong skeleton, awaiting for her soul to catch herself. Ryan closed her eyes, feeling the stinging sensation come along from keeping them open for too long.

"Ryan?" Richie called again, lightly patting her knee. He wished to see the shining gem color of her eyes, but they remained closed. "Hey--"

"I don't know," Ryan murmured softly. She brought one of her hands up to her forehead. There was a part of her that wanted to tell-- that wanted to share hushed secrets under the dimmed orange overhead lighting of a mere stranger's bathroom. The part of her that was left standing in the school hallway earlier that day, once lost, but quickly found by another just like her. The part of her that found a warm comfort within a foregin chuckle and the skip of her own heartbeat when she felt his presence by her side. That part wanted to tell, though it was hard to do so when Ryan's lips had been sealed for years. Years of conditioning and the bitter taste of white lies.

She swore herself into secrecy a long time ago. Ryan didn't even know her own truth anymore-- and perhaps she never had.

The part of the girl that didn't wish to tell was larger. Darker. Stronger. Ryan knew she shouldn't fight it, she shouldn't push past the thick barriers and caution tape that labeled her life. It was the part of herself no one ever saw. The part that crumbled at the sight of thunder and the part that picked at flower beds living in the middle of sidewalks. The part that knew how to craft a false reality at the drop of a hat. That part rather plummet off the cliffside Ryan was becoming than ever tell. The part that was so childlike-- it didn't recognize the young women that Ryan now was.

"I just," She paused, finally opening her eyes once more to see Richie had never looked away. His bright eyes etched into hers as though it was his one and only destiny. "I don't know."

"It can't be that weird..." Richie spoke up, bringing his left index finger up to his glasses to adjust them. "Maybe weird isn't the right word," He whispered under his breath. He paused to ponder for a moment. "Like it can't be that much... or bad?" Richie sighed deeply. "You know what I mean."

"What if it is?" Ryan questioned, leaning into the back of the toilet seat more. She spread her legs in a boyish manner as she manovered her gaze all around his figure. "I'm not sayin' it is much, or bad," Ryan echoed his murmurs of inquiry from seconds prior. "But what if it was?"

"I could handle it," He argued. "I really could-- I mean hell," Richie crossed his arms over his chest. "If the rest of the losers can handle this information, then so can I."