Brendon's beginning to get a stitch in his side.
He's on his eighth lap around the field, and he can already feel himself close to giving up. The teacher is off ill or something, and so a Math teacher has had to cover games - and she just sent them off to do laps around the field for forty minutes. Brendon decides, as he turns the corner and starts the ninth lap, that he's not very fond of Math teachers anymore.
Everybody else in the class isn't exactly happy about it, either, but he's not running with any of them. Jon is running with a group of his more popular friends, and Spencer had managed to forge a note saying that he's too ill to take part, and is instead in the computer rooms somewhere with Brent.
The only other people he knows in the class are Timothy and Ryan. Timothy is racing ahead of everybody else - and shoving into Brendon every time he overlaps him - and Ryan is dwindling even further behind than Brendon, choosing to walk rather than run. Brendon glances over his shoulder, to see that the boy is staring at the sky as he ambles on, evidently deep in thought. Brendon sighs, and looks ahead of him again.
He means to take Jon's advice and talk to Ryan, but he has no idea how to do it. It's so, so painful to see him, and not be able to kiss him or touch him or even talk to him. He wants nothing more than to just lie somewhere warm with the boy, murmuring softly, and running his lips across Ryan's. He just hopes that he plucks up the courage to speak to him, and soon.
Just as he begins to deliberate where he's going to take Ryan for their quiet talk, somebody slams into his shoulder, sending him sprawling into the grass. He blinks a few times in surprise, his elbow knocking painfully against the ground, and sits up. He looks up, reluctantly, to find Timothy standing over him, a smile on his lips.
"Sorry about that," he says, in a strangely bright voice. He holds out a hand, which Brendon cautiously takes, and hauls him to his feet. As Brendon reaches his level, he leans in close, and mutters, "You and your little boyfriend had better watch your backs. Nobody gets away with fucking stabbing me. You'll both pay, so look out."
Brendon wrenches his hand from the taller boy's grip, a flicker of fear sparking inside. "I didn't do anything wrong," he protests. "Don't do anything to Ryan, either. He didn't stab you. You just got a little cut."
"He used a knife, and he can't get away with that," Timothy growls, but he looks unperturbed at Brendon's words. "You both can't get away with it. Just you wait."
Brendon opens his mouth to try and defend the two of them even more, but Timothy just laughs, and speeds off again. Brendon stays where he is, glaring at the muscular back of the footballer, wondering what the hell is going to happen to him now, when he feels somebody tap him gently on the back.
He turns, startled, and feels as though his heart has leapt into his mouth. Ryan stands by him, looking curious and startled. Being so close to him makes Brendon have to physically stop himself from pressing his lips against Ryan's. "Hi," he says, a little breathlessly, from all the effort of restraining himself.
"Hey," Ryan replies, quietly, watching a couple of boys run past. "How are you?"
"Um. Not very good. Timothy said that he's going to get the both of us back for. Um, for --"
"For me stabbing him," Ryan nods, and then sighs. "I'm sorry for involving you in something like this. I'll stop talking to you and then Timothy will have no need to pay you have for what I've done."
Brendon's eyes go wide. "What? Fuck. Don't you dare stop talking to me."
Ryan's eyebrows raise. Brendon's never used such a such a sharp tone with him before, and it's got to be at least a little surprising. "Why not?" Ryan demands, using the same tone back, and folding his arms. Brendon realises, then, that the time for Jon's advice has come.
"Come with me," he orders, but it comes out as more of a plea. Ryan stares at him, suspiciously, but then sighs, with a shrug. Brendon smiles despite himself, and quickly marches off the field, dodging those still obediently running. He glances at the cover teacher, to see that she's reading, and before anybody notices, he grabs Ryan by the shirt front, pulls him into the changing room, and slams the door behind them both.
"What are you doing?" Ryan asks, sounding uncertain, and pulling back from his grip. Brendon takes a deep breath, and pins Ryan, none too gently, into the wall. He gazes straight into Ryan's eyes, and takes another breath.
"Don't interrupt me," he warns, licking his lips. "Just let me say what I have to say."
"Okay," Ryan says, slowly, and Brendon's brain goes a bit fuzzy as Ryan slips a tentative hand around his waist and pulls them closer together. He blinks a few times, trying his hardest to focus on what he needs to say, rather than the feeling in his underwear. He swallows, hard, as Ryan's other hand slips around his waist, too. "What do you need to say?"
"W-well," Brendon attempts, trembling slightly as Ryan's fingers trace patterns into his lower back. Ryan's smiling, softly, as though he knows just where this is going. "I-I'm just. I have to tell you t-that I'm sorry. About yesterday. B-but I still think that you, uh, you shouldn't go around s-stabbing people."
Ryan's fingers stop making patterns on his back, but his arms stay where they were. He looks, Brendon thinks, almost ashamed, biting his lip and staring down, as if unable to meet Brendon's eye. "I know I shouldn't," he murmurs, in a small voice. "But you don't understand."
"Then help me to," Brendon begs, smoothing the hair from Ryan's eyes, and determinedly staring into them until Ryan looks up and meets his gaze. "Please. I want this to work, I really do. I really, really like you, but I want --"
"Why do you like me?" Ryan asks, sounding almost upset. "Why would you like me? I flip out and I use knives and I treat you horribly when I get into a bad mood."
"Don't say things like that," Brendon sighs. "You're amazing. I don't know what else to say."
Ryan shakes his head, but he's wearing a smile that he seemingly can't control, and Brendon has to move forward to kiss him. The moment their lips press together, there's a pleasant skip of his heart inside. It's only been a couple of days, but damn, he's missed this.
As he pulls back a minute later, Ryan's smile has widened impossibly. "You know what, Brendon?" he asks, in murmurs, and Brendon tilts his head to one side, curious. "I think I kind of really like you too."
Brendon laughs, beaming, and kisses him again, and again, and again.
*
It's the next afternoon, a Wednesday, and Brendon and Ryan are sitting on the park.
Ryan is lying on his back in the grass, his eyes closed, looking perfectly content. Brendon sits by him, legs crossed, picking daisies from the ground and pulling their petals off, absently. The weather is warm and pleasant, and Brendon hasn't felt this good in ages.
"What are you doing this weekend?" Ryan asks, not opening his eyes, but brushing his fingers lightly over Brendon's leg. Brendon smiles, glances around to ensure they're still the only ones on the park, and takes his hand.
"I don't know," he sighs, thinking about it. "It's my birthday on Saturday, and my mom and Rodney are --"
"It's your birthday?" Ryan asks, eyes flying open as he sits up.
"Yeah."
"Why didn't you tell me sooner?" he demands, frowning. "I won't have any money before then, but I want to get you a present."
"You don't need to get me anything," Brendon snorts dismissively, but he squeezes Ryan's hand in thanks. "When's your birthday?"
"It was a couple of weeks ago," Ryan shrugs. Brendon opens his mouth to reply, but Ryan smiles and shakes his head, leaning forward to interrupt the reply with a kiss. "Don't bother saying anything about it, I didn't really know you then."
Brendon rolls his eyes. "Well, fine. I didn't get you anything, so you don't need to get me anything."
Ryan stares across the empty park for a few moments, looking thoughtful, but then a small, secretive smile comes over his lips, and he gives Brendon a smug look. "Oh, no. I'll get you something."
"You really don't --"
"Yes, I do. It'll be amazing, don't worry."
Brendon's curiosity is immediately piqued, and he knows that arguing against it further will do no good, so he just smiles, and kisses the corner of Ryan's mouth happily. "Thanks, then. I'm looking forward to it."
"Your mom and her boyfriend will be away, then?" Ryan asks, after a couple of seconds. "Are you going to have a party?"
Brendon winces. "I wasn't planning to, but I told Jon and Spencer about my free house, and they went around inviting everybody, and you know how many friends Jon has. I was going to invite you, of course, but it kind of slipped my mind. I mean, it should be good, but if anyone like Timothy comes round, things could go so wrong, and --"
"Don't worry, it might be fun," Ryan interrupts, though he sounds a bit doubtful. Brendon guesses that he's not the partying type, especially if a lot of people will be there, but he hopes he'll come anyway. It won't be anywhere near as good as a night if he's not. "We'll have fun, anyway."
"We will," Brendon asks, suspiciously. "Why will we?"
Ryan merely smiles his mysterious smile, and brushes his lips against Brendon's. Brendon laughs, not too bothered about the lack of an answer when he can have this instead, but as they break apart for a second so that Ryan can move closer, he notices something out of the corner of his eye that thoroughly distracts him.
"Oh my God, how adorable is that?" he asks, leaping to his feet and bounding over to the puppy that's wandering through the grass towards them. It's tiny, and brown, with large, dark eyes that stare up at Brendon as it jumps up at him, eagerly. He scoops it up into his arms and rushes across to show Ryan, who is getting to his feet. "Look at him! He's amazing, isn't he?"
Ryan scratches the puppy behind it's ears, and it gives out a pleased growl. "It's nice," he smiles, and then glances up at Brendon, who's practically bouncing with excitement. "I take it you like dogs?"
"I love them!" Brendon enthuses, putting the puppy carefully back down on the floor, whereupon it bounds back to it's middle-aged owner who's smiling at them indulgently from across the park. He gives the woman a wave, which she returns merrily, and then faces Ryan again. "I've always wanted one, but my mom thinks it'd be too much trouble to look after. I always try to persuade her but she never listens, it's really annoying. Puppies are so amazing though, and that one was so amazing, and --"
"You're really cute, you know?" Ryan asks, laughing slightly. Brendon remembers how much he loathed being called so when he went on his 'date' with Emily, but for some reason, the words from Ryan just make him feel strangely warm inside. He bites his lip, shyly, and shrugs. He doesn't think he's cute, in the slightest, but he certainly doesn't mind Ryan thinking so.
"You'll come to my party, then?" he asks, slipping his hand once more into Ryan's, and tugging him in the direction of the street. He kind of really wants to go home and be with Ryan in the privacy of his bedroom.
Ryan nods, pressing a quick, tender kiss to Brendon's cheek, and then pulls back, once again wearing the smile that Brendon just can't decipher. "I can't wait," he replies, softly, and then mimes zipping his lips together as Brendon gazes at him, questioningly. "I just hope you have a lock on your bedroom door."
Brendon's eyebrows shoot up, as his cheeks flush red.
Oh, he thinks, and smiles slightly. Now he gets it.