Since I'd actually agreed to do this...I guess you could qualify it as a date, thing with Brendon, I was forced to give him my number so he could text me when he was on his way. Friday night I'd come home to my parents fighting, again, but this time when I tried to leave, my dad stopped me on my way out the door.
"Ryan, where do you think you're going?" He snapped. I automatically froze, he smelled strongly of alcohol, and that never led to anything good. I sighed softly, turning around to face the drunken man. He had his eyebrows arched angrily.
"To Grandma's house." I replied simply, no sarcasm, no fear, just an answer.
"Why?" He went on to question me. I sighed again, a little frustrated, and put my hand on my hip. "-because I have plans tomorrow, that require sleep, and I'm not gonna get any with you and mom screaming all the time." I answered, plastering a fake smile across my face.
I turned to lean forward, grabbing the handle, but before I could twist it and leave, I felt a hand on my waist. I let out a scream of surprise as my father yanked me back, turning me around to shove me back towards the kitchen. I gasped softly, my breathing was already picking up as I stumbled back, away from him.
He started towards me, shaking a finger at me, "Last I checked, I was the parent, I make the decisions, you're not leaving." He decided. I angrily stopped stepping back, allowing him to get a few inches near me before I stood up for myself.
"Oh? Really? You suddenly care about being my father? Fuck off, you're drunk." I growled, rolling my eyes. I tried stepping out of the way to head for the door again, but he threw me back again. This time, I stumbled into the table, where the edge of the table dug into my side. I let out a quick gasp as pain tingled through my right side, but in no time I was fumbling around, searching for a way of defense.
"Excuse me, boy? You're not going anywhere!" He snarled, jumped towards me. Before he could actually touch me, or hurt me, my hand had fumbled over a knife. At first, I tried grasping it by the blade, which ended with me cutting my hand. I cursed softly, glancing away for a second to grab the knife the right way, and hold it out towards my father.
He stopped, standing in place, staring at me.
"Dad, I'm going to Grandma's. Tomorrow, I'll be out with a friend, alright? You won't make this decision for me, I'm old enough to make it on my own." I said, slowly, to make sure the words registered in his brain. His eyes never left the knife, but instead stayed strained upon it. Slowly, he nodded, but his eyes held fury. With that, which I took as a sign to go, I ran.
I ran out the door, not once looking back, and stumbled on into the night.
"A date? Ooh!" Grandma cooed, looking up from the table. She adjust her glasses with a slight smile, cocking her head to the side. I nodded, a smile gracing my lips as well. I was in the middle of applying a bandaid to my open wound.
"Hey, gran, do you think I could camp out here for a bit? I don't want to, uh, go home yet." I whispered, my voice softening with each word that came from my mouth. Grandma was still looking at me, and within seconds, her eyes softened, and she beckoned me over. So I finished applying the bandaid, and walked over to her.
She took my hands in hers, forcing me to sit down at the seat beside hers. From there, she told me, "Ryan, you're allowed to stay here as long as you want, alright?" She stopped, and during her moment's hesitation, I smiled. "Now, tell me about that boy you like," She grinned, winking playfully. I rolled my eyes in return, propping my face up on one elbow.
"Grandmaaaa, I told you, I don't like him, though I'm pretty sure he likes me. I dunno, he's cute, I guess." I decided, though I wished I was lying, I wasn't. Brendon was okay, I mean, he was attractive, but that didn't mean I liked him.
"Sureee, Ry. Just go on, this is the one you have a date with tomorrow, right?" After spending maybe two hours talking to Grandma about anything and everything, she decided to go to bed, there for I decided to go to bed too. My side was bruised up pretty badly from where I'd hit the corner of the table, but I still managed to sleep, on the couch, pretty soundly.
You know how most people wake up in the morning to the smell of...oh, let's say bacon? Or get tickled awake from their grandmother? Well, I wasn't. I was woken in the worst possible way. Besides simply flipping the light on or dumping a cup of water on my head, I was sat on.
I was jolted awake as weight was suddenly added upon my back. My eyes shot open, I automatically began to squirm beneath the person. When I craned my head over my shoulder, I realized it was Brendon.
"Brendon, you fucking pig, get off me!" I'd decided calling Brendon a pig was my favorite hobby. Besides roasting him in public. He burst out laughing, shaking his head in refusal. I huffed from beneath him, he was slowly squashing me to a pancake!
"Good morning to you too, Princess! I texted you this morning, telling you to be awake and ready by nine." He answered, leaning over towards my ear. A shiver was sent down my spine as he breathed on my neck. I raised my hand to swat at him.
"What time is it?" I asked, in a grunt.
"Ten."
"So you've been here for an entire hour, and you didn't think to wake me up until now?!" I growled, my voice raising. I stared out the doorway of the living room, where Grandma soon walked in, eating a cookie. She smiled softly, looking between us.
"Yes, actually, Ryan, he has. We've just been sitting at the dining room table talking," Grandma began. Brendon nodded ecstatically, finally sliding off of me. "Yeah! Her cookies are really good, you're lucky, Ry." Brendon finished.
I huffed, rolling off the couch to get to my feet. My side was throbbing, but at the moment I was forced to ignore it. "You didn't tell him anything embarrassing, did you?" I asked Grandma. She smirked, shrugging mysteriously.
"Don't you two have a date to get going on?" She asked. I frowned, but Brendon was quick to nod, and take my hand, pulling me towards the kitchen. Grandma allowed it, she, instead, walked towards the office that branched off from the living room.
"I don't have any clothes here, Brendon." I complained, stopping in the kitchen despite his tugging on my arm. He stopped too, turning towards me with a smirk. I pulled a cookie from a plate, smiling softly as it basically melted in my mouth when I took a bite.
"I know. Within that hour I drove back to my place and grabbed an outfit. By the way, if you were wondering how I knew you were here, your father told me the address when I stopped by." Brendon said, answering the one question that'd been burning in my mind. I shrugged, letting him push me to the bathroom.
In the bathroom, was a pile of clothes beside the sink. Before Brendon could walk in too, I turned and shut the door, clicking it locked. He protested with a grunt, but I ignored it, quickly changing from my original pair of clothes, into the ones he was lending me.
The shirt was a little too long on me, it was a black t-shirt with white stars all over it, and a moon in the corner. The pants were lighter colored skinny jeans, and he'd also grabbed me a jacket, all black. I decided to throw it on as well, then pulled out my Grandma's make up.
I dug for her eye pencil, and once I found it, I took about ten more minutes on each eye applying the black eyeliner. Though when I was finished, I liked how I looked. My hair was a mess, but I could care less about that. So I stormed from the bathroom, my clothes in my hands. Carelessly, I dropped them upon the dining room table, leaning over to pick my shoes up from beside the table leg.
"Your ass looks great in those jeans, by the way." Brendon called out, jingling the keys in his hand. I hesitated in my bent over position, inhaling slowly to calm my nerves before I went on a killing spree, and slipped my shoes on rather quickly.
"Thank you?" I asked, raising an eyebrow as I passed him. I pushed through the screen door, but within a few seconds of walking, Brendon had caught up to me, and stole the chance to slap my ass. I yelped softly in surprise, turning to glare at him, but to find he was no longer behind me, but in front of me, holding the passenger door open.
"Touch my ass again, Urie, and we'll have some problems." I warned, grabbing the edge of the door to steady myself as I crawled into the car. Brendon waited for a few more seconds to make sure I was fully in, before letting the door shut.
"Oh really? What're you gonna do? Slap me?" He teased as he got in as well. He pulled from the driveway, turning his face towards me for the answer of the question. I leaned over after snapping my seatbelt on, and grabbed his jaw firmly between my fingers.
"Watch yourself boy, I'm not afraid to slap you again." I playfully raised my eyebrows, pulling his face closer so I could gently kiss his chin. He snorted softly, pulling away to focus on the road.
"You're not that intimidating, Ross." He said. I rolled my eyes, "Really? I'm not?"
"No." I shook my head with a smirk. I would've answered again, but he was already drowning me out with some random band playing on the radio. Instead, I turned to lean against the door, staring out the window. As I did so, one thought crossed my mind.
Dallon really does fucking suck at soccer.
-
it's ten at night thank me later
- sattie