Autumn/Winter

Part Two

Thursday afternoon finds Brendon five branches high in a large tree, with Ryan egging him on to climb higher from above. In the space of a week, Ryan and Brendon have become comfortable around each other as friends.

“Oh, come on. It is not that high,” Ryan tells him, but he’s laughing, waving for Brendon to climb two more branches. “You can see the whole park from here.”

“Dude, my palms hurt,” Brendon complains, managing to hoist himself up on to the next branch, and sitting there. “I’ll always just be one below you, I guess,” he says with a melodramatic hand-to-forehead flourish.

“Come on, drama queen,” Ryan says, extending a hand. Brendon looks at it through the green leaves, and hesitantly takes the bony fingers in his own, being lifted on to the same branch as Ryan.

“You really can see the whole park,” Brendon remarks, impressed. “And here I was, thinking you were lying.”

Ryan grins at him, and looks back. Brendon can barely hear Hobo’s barks from the table where she’s tied up, and he can see Timothy near the slide, next to a little girl in a polka dot dress.

“What are you doing this weekend?” Brendon asks, focusing his attention on Ryan’s face.

Brendon sometimes wonders why a person like Ryan would even bother with a person like Brendon.

“Why?” Ryan asks, turning to straddle the branch.

“Well, my friends are doing this camp out thing on the beach,” Brendon says, letting it linger a bit before adding, “and I was wondering if you wanted to come.”

“Do you want me to come?”

“Well, that’s why I’m asking you,” Brendon says with an eye roll.

“Alright,” Ryan says, shrugging. “I’ll come.”

“Cool. It’s on Saturday,” Brendon tells him, tucking hair behind his ear. “It’s not a big deal, or anything.”

“Okay,” Ryan says with a slightly disinterested voice, leaning forward on the branch to look below them. “You sound kind of nervous, though.”

Brendon looks at him, puzzled. “I’m not.”

Ryan sends him a knowing smile. “Okay.”

Brendon looks down, feeling slightly nauseated by the height, but he sees a glint of light, reflecting off Ryan’s camera that lies on the table below. Ryan follows Brendon’s gaze and grins.

“I printed those pictures,” Ryan tells him, glancing sideways, and Brendon tilts his head sideways.

“You mean when you attacked me with the camera?”

“You loved it,” Ryan teases, tongue poking out between teeth and lips. “They look good, anyway. You’re smiling.”

Brendon looks down shyly, something about the comment feeling personal. He lets his fingers dig into the bark of the tree, dry dirt and debris burying itself underneath his nails and sending shivers through his hands.

Ryan’s thin; through his shirt Brendon can see Ryan’s small waist and bony shoulder blades, with his spindly hands gripping the branch, and his lean legs dangling. Brendon looks away when he realises he’s staring. It’s something about the bones and sinewy muscles that attract Brendon’s eyes.

“I’ll give you a copy, if you want,” Ryan offers, his foot tapping against Brendon’s.

“A copy of what?” Brendon asks, losing his train of thought.