*I translated using Google so some of it might be wrong idk*
Summary: Brendon is evacuated to America during a German war. He struggles with a language barrier while facing the challenges of adolescence and maintaining friendships and a relationship.
Brendon lies in his bed, shivering violently. His unruly neighbours that occupy the apartment next door are yelling at each other in a foreign tongue. He’d only been in America for a few days and already his patience is wearing incredibly thin.
The new school he attends is strange to him, the majority of children there lack tolerance, and he usu ally finds himself being pushed up against a locker. But he doesn’t mind, really, he doesn’t.
Brendon is not ungrateful; he knows that he is one of the lucky ones. He’s been given a second chance, and that was much more than the majority of people back in his home country had. He can almost smell the stench of gunpowder and blood befouling the air. Brendon shudders and rolls over on his mattress, now gazing at a cracked wall.
His apartment was serene and quite desecrated. The bathroom was basically a mound of cracked porcelain, he slept on an old mattress, and it lacked most appliances. He only had five thousand dollars saved up; god knows how long that will last. He’d already begun eating into it, what with the electricity and water bills, not to mention food.
Brendon let out a frustrated sigh and rolled over again, desperate to find a good sleeping position. Finally, after a few more twists and turns he fell into a silent slumber.
His dreams were ridden with dark monsters holding guns; they were hiding behind every corner, preying on unsuspecting victims. Brendon was running, he had no idea how to escape from the monsters’ clutches, but he’d try. He darted in and out of the shadows, his thin chest heaving. The monsters were closing in on him, closer, closer, closer, until… there was a ship.
Brendon awoke suddenly the next morning, his jaw tightening as yells and shrieks from the apartment next door echoed into his room. Brendon rubbed his tired eyes and stood rather shakily. He stumbled across the room to a backpack sitting against the wall. He smiled at it; the backpack had been with him to hell and back, almost literally.
He opened it quickly, extracting a worn blue shirt. He took the one he was currently wearing off, dumping it on the floor before pulling on the blue one. Brendon slung his bag over his shoulders and left his apartment, locking the door behind him.
The neighbourhood was gray, graffiti covering a lot of the buildings. Why anyone would desire to live here out of their own free will exceeded Brendon’s knowledge. Small children with wide omniscient eyes trudged along, occasionally accompanied by an adult. A young woman was walking in the opposite direction, approaching Brendon steadily. He offered her a small smile, which she returned awkwardly, as if her facial muscles had forgotten how.
The walk to his new school wasn’t very long. It was only a few blocks from his despoiled neighbourhood. Brendon was incredibly nervous as he trotted up the green grass towards the white school building. No teenagers could be seen as Brendon entered it; Brendon guessed that they were already in class. He met a teacher in the hall who looked at him suspiciously. “What are you doing out of class,” she asked sternly.
Brendon pulled out a signed note from the German embassy from his bag. The teacher’s eyes moved with the words before she looked up, eyeing Brendon pitifully. She gestured for Brendon to follow her and began walking to Brendon’s first class. Brendon got the gist and followed her quickly.
She stopped outside his classroom and pointed at the door. “Your class. The teacher will figure out what to do with you.” Brendon looked at her blankly before opening the door and walking in.
The whole class turned to stare at Brendon when he entered the classroom. The walls were a gray color with various posters pinned to it. The posters had incomprehensible words and phrases written on them.
A middle-aged teacher was standing behind an oak desk. She was trying in vain to capture the class’s attention. Brendon gazed around the room, noting that there were more then a few students missing. Clearly, wagging school was an issue.
The teacher followed the class’s gaze. “Ah, you must be Brendon?” she said, slowly and intentionally. Brendon stared at her blankly, only recognising his name. He nodded, feigning coherence. The teacher beckoned him over. Brendon trotted over to her hesitantly.
“Children, this is Brendon Urie,” the teacher said, talking to the class. Everyone looked at Brendon expectantly.
“Ich weiß nicht, wie zu sprechen Englisch,” (I do not know how to speak english) said Brendon uncomfortably, looking over at the teacher. Comprehension clouded the teacher’s face and she looked back at the class.
“Would anyone like to take Brendon to the German teacher?” asked the teacher. A boy with hazel eyes raised his hand slowly, wanting to get out of the classroom, and he was also rather keen to get a closer look at Brendon.
“Okay, Ryan,” said the teacher. Ryan stood, picking his bag up off the ground and walking over to the teacher’s desk. He grabbed Brendon’s forearm and dragged him out of the room. Ryan released Brendon’s arm once they’d exited, Ryan turned and looked at Brendon warily, unsure how to communicate with him.
“Uh,” mumbled Ryan. He pointed at Brendon, then to himself and made a motion on his hand that was supposed to imitate someone walking. Brendon blinked. Ryan bit his lip, beckoning Brendon over and turned around. He began to walk down the empty hall, hoping Brendon would get the drift. He did. Ryan heard light footsteps padding along behind him as he led the way to the German teacher’s classroom.
“You can’t speak English?” wondered Ryan out loud, slowing down slightly so he and Brendon could walk in unison. Brendon stared blankly at the ground and continued walking, giving no indication that he’d heard Ryan. Ryan was slightly embarrassed at his obvious question and grateful that Brendon hadn’t understood.
Ryan stopped abruptly outside the German classroom, quickly stepping aside to avoid a collision with Brendon. Ryan opened the door swiftly and entered, Brendon trailing quickly behind. The German teacher, Mr. Stelmaschuck, looked up at the boys as they entered the room. Ryan shut the door behind them. “What can I do you for, boys?” asked Mr. Stelmaschuck, his deep voice echoing around the room.
“Um, this is Brendon, he’s a new kid from Germany, and I don’t think he knows how to speak English,” said Ryan, pacing over to the teacher’s desk. They both turned to look at Brendon, who looked rather nervous.
“Wie geht es Ihnen, Brendon?” (How are you, Brendon?) asked the German teacher warmly. Relief flooded through Brendon as he recognised his own tongue.
“I mögen es nicht, hier,” (I do not like it, here) replied Brendon, his voice bitter. Ryan’s eyes travelled from teacher to student as they conversed.
“Ah, ja. Würden Sie gerne mit mir zu bleiben Sie heute?” (Ah yes. Would you like to stay with me today?) Brendon thought about the teacher’s question briefly; he’d very much like to have someone that he could understand and vice versa. But having a teacher following him around all day would probably ensure that Brendon would get noticed and he didn’t want to draw attention to himself. Brendon looked at Ryan, who was looking back at him intently.
“Nein, aber kann ich mit ihm bleiben?” (No, but can I stay with him?) asked Brendon, gesturing towards Ryan. The teacher turned to face Ryan.
“Can he stay with you today?” asked Mr. Stelmaschuck.
“Oh, yeah. Can’t he speak any English, like, at all?” asked Ryan curiously.
“Können sie sprechen Englisch?” (Do you speak English?) asked the teacher, his question aimed at Brendon.
“Nein.” (No.)
The teacher turned back to Ryan. “No, he doesn’t. That could be a little difficult, but he seemed quite adamant on not staying with me today. Would you like to take an English to German dictionary?”
“Um, okay.”
Brendon watched semi-interestedly as the teacher rummaged around behind his desk, finally extracting a dictionary. He walked back over to the boys, handing Ryan the dictionary and ushering them out the door. “Siehe mich, wenn Sie etwas brauchen, Brendon,” (See me, if you need something, Brendon) he called after them.
“Dank,” (Thanks) returned Brendon as followed Ryan. Ryan gazed at the dictionary in his hands as he led Brendon to Geography class. Ryan had never studied German before, and he was now regretting it immensely. He flipped the dictionary open to the English side, searching for the word ‘hello’. Once he’d located it he turned to Brendon, who was trotting along beside him. “Hallo, Brendon,” said Ryan. Brendon made a humming noise in reply.
Ryan closed the dictionary, shoving it into his empty messenger bag. He fiddled around with his zipper briefly before returning his attention to Brendon. “I’m Ryan,” he said, pointing at his chest. “Ry-an.”
“Sie aus wie ein Mädchen, Ryan,” (You look like a girl, Ryan) replied Brendon, smiling subtly.
A large grin graced Ryan’s face. “Yeah! That’s it.”
Brendon picked up the agreement in Ryan’s voice and chuckled deeply, confusing Ryan slightly.
Ryan spent most of their Geography lesson blatantly staring at Brendon; he was a rather attractive kid. No, he was a rather dazzling kid. His brown eyes were wide and inquisitive, his lips were a tender pink colour and his hair was a dark black with brown highlights when he was in the light.
As for the rest of the time, Ryan looked up phrases in the dictionary, eager to be able to talk with Brendon.
When the lunch bell rang, Ryan nudged Brendon. Brendon narrowed his eyes at Ryan. “Ich bin nicht taub,” (I am not deaf) he said. Ryan grinned and nodded.
“Yeah, it’s called a ‘bell’ – beh-ll,” said Ryan, sounding out the word. Brendon looked at Ryan blankly.
Ryan and Brendon stood in unison. Ryan paused as Brendon shoved his books into a tattered bag. At last, Brendon seemed satisfied and the pair exited the classroom. Ryan drew out his piece of paper with the German words and phrases scribbled over it, but made no effort to communicate with Brendon. Brendon studied his surroundings as they walked with his large perplexed eyes, drinking in the various sights. He almost bumped into Ryan as the boy stopped and opened the door to the cafeteria.
Ryan made a beeline to his regular table near the back of the room where two of his friends were already seated. Ryan slumped down opposite the both of them. “Hey, guys,” he said, as Brendon sat down uncomfortably. The two boys opposite Ryan jerked out of their seemingly in-depth conversation.
“Hey,” they replied simultaneously.
“Who’s this?” asked the thinner of the two, gesturing towards a silent and unenthusiastic Brendon.
“That’s Brendon,” replied Ryan casually, pulling a brown lunch bag out of his backpack. Once Ryan had extracted the paper bag he turned to Brendon. He caught the raven-haired boy’s eye quickly and pointed at the skinny boy.
“That’s William,” he said slowly and deliberately, “Will-ee-um.” Brendon rolled his eyes. Then Ryan pointed at the tanned kid.
“And that’s Pete. Pee-te.”
“Ja! I hörten Sie das erste Mal,” (Yes! I heard you the first time) snapped Brendon. Pete and William exchanged glances.
“Um, why are you talking to him like that?” asked Pete, taking a bite of his apple while William watched Brendon, his facial expression curious.
Ryan looked at Brendon, somewhat fondly. “He’s from Germany – he can’t speak English.” Will snorted, causing Brendon to glance up. Brendon had picked up two familiar words in Ryan’s sentence and he was wondering what was so amusing about it, but William didn’t elaborate.
A few more of Ryan’s friends joined the table. They were all talking loudly and quickly, sometimes aiming their questions at Brendon and got annoyed when he didn’t answer. Brendon felt alienated as they continued to talk. He heard his name a few times amongst their rambles, laughter always accompanying it. Just because he didn’t speak the language doesn’t mean he doesn’t have emotions.
After awhile Brendon grew tired of being scrutinized and stood up abruptly, leaving the table in a less than dignified manner. Brendon had no desire whatsoever of remaining at school that day so he returned home. Unfortunately, his apartment was just as debased as he’d left it that morning.
He fell onto his mattress, hot tears escaping his eyes as he held his pillow against his chest. Once he could simply cry no more Brendon’s thoughts strayed to his brothers back home fighting a losing battle. Luckily, Brendon had been a year too young when the General came to Brendon’s old house. They snatched Brendon’s family away – snatched his life away. Truth be told, Brendon was a coward, he wouldn’t have gone to war even if he were old enough. He couldn’t imagine taking innocent lives and then carrying on, the rest of his life based on the worst thing he ever did.
When someone knocked on Brendon’s door a few minutes later, he felt like screaming. He dragged himself from his bed extremely reluctantly. He crossed the room and pulled the door open violently, revealing his sleazy-looking landlord. Brendon sighed and held up his finger before pacing back over to his mattress. He reached under it, pulling out a few bills. He counted the money until he had two hundred dollars clutched in his hand.
He walked back over to his door. Brendon watched as the money disappeared into his landlord’s pocket. He closed the door quietly and went back over to his bed, flopping down onto it. Brendon really needed to get an English tutor; he supposed the easiest and cheapest way would be to learn from the school’s German teacher. But, he was not interested in going to school any time soon – for he was tired, much too tired.
The next day Brendon slept while Ryan went to school. The kid vaguely wondered where Brendon was, but he didn’t dwell on the issue. It wasn’t like he missed the raven-haired boy, no, he was just curious.
The next few days flew by quickly. Brendon cried himself to sleep at night but he couldn’t state why. He returned to school a few days later. Most of the kids were too caught up in their own insignificant struggles to notice Brendon and this suited the pale boy quite well.
The first morning back went by immeasurably slowly, quickly getting to the point that it was physically hurting to remain in class; listening to a boring lecture in a foreign dialect. Brendon escaped wordlessly through the wooden door as soon as the bell rang.
Brendon went and seated himself outside his English classroom; while the rest of the school either went to the cafeteria or outside, so there was a minimal chance that Brendon would be disturbed. He had a bottle of water and he was just sitting there, thinking. The whole world felt calm and tranquil and Brendon was enjoying the serenity.
“Hey there,” said a soft voice. Brendon looked up, rather displeased at having been jerked from his thoughts. It was Ryan.
“Hallo,” said Brendon in reply. Ryan pointed to a bit of space beside Brendon.
“May I sit?” Brendon shrugged, secretly wishing he were able to converse in English. Although, by Ryan’s tone of voice Brendon could tell that the boy was displeased. Brendon wanted to ask Ryan what was wrong; he looked like he needed to get something off his chest.
“Ah… Sie Sind… okey?” (Ah...you are...okay?) asked Brendon, struggling with lack of knowledge about the English language. Ryan took a guess that Brendon was asking if he was okay. Ryan remembered his sheet of phrases that he’d written what seemed like a lifetime ago. They’d been living on his dressing table for quite some time. He wished he had them with him.
“My friends, well, Pete. Will. They annoy me sometimes, a lot.”
“Ahuh,” was all Brendon said in reply.
Ryan sighed. “I’m sorry about the other day… my friends can be a little… obnoxious.”
“Mhm.”
They sat there, quietly acknowledging each other until the bell rang. Ryan didn’t try to hide his displeasure at losing Brendon’s company. He let out a long sigh before standing up. “We’ll hang out again soon,” he said wistfully before leaving Brendon to get ready for class and wonder what Ryan had said.
It took Brendon quite awhile to get home that afternoon. It was raining heavily and for some reason he felt like crying. The wind was wintry, and Brendon was a little surprised that nothing was turning to ice. His shoes sloshed around in the deep puddles and the rain sunk into his clothing, chilling him to the bone.
Brendon knew that he must look far from desirable. He trudged along forlornly, each step making him feel worse. He had no idea where this sudden depression had come from, but it was really annoying the boy.
A story would make Brendon feel better, he decided. A fairytale set in a distant land with princes and princesses where the sun constantly shone and what happened after happily ever after was never questioned. Brendon looked up, his imaginary kingdom immediately vanishing when he recognised his neighbourhood.
He was the only one in the street that afternoon. Everything felt much eerier than usual as he walked up the front steps of his apartment building.
The afternoon embraced the evening without Brendon noticing. The level of light outside remained the same as Brendon lay on his bed, reading a book. A huge crash of thunder made him jump. He continued reading until he heard a small noise outside his window. Brendon bit his lip and ignored the noise.
After a few minutes it started again, now accompanied with a scratching noise. It sounded like an animal of some sort. Brendon stood up on his bed; outside the window was a small drenched cat. Brendon bit his lip and looked at it for a few seconds before opening the window.
The kitten entered his apartment eagerly and began running around stupidly. It was a black and white cat. Brendon rubbed the back of his neck. ”Ich hoffe, dass Sie nicht der Meinung, dass dies Ihr neues Zuhause…” (I hope that you do not think that this is your new home) he said to the excitable animal, who was now inspecting his backpack. Brendon sighed and walked into his kitchen, his new animal following him expectantly.
“Ich nehme an, Sie sind hungrig?” (I assume you are hungry?) he asked the small animal. Brendon looked in his cupboard briefly, pulling out a bag of Mac and Cheese.
“Das ist alles ich habe, tut mir leid wenn es euch nicht gefällt.” (That's all I have, I'm sorry if you do not like it)
Brendon poured the Mac and Cheese into a bowl, mixing it with water before setting it down for the kitten. It ate the food greedily. Brendon watched it for a short while before going back to his bed. He was tired and it was getting late. He decided that he’d have to think of a name for the kitten.
He slept rather soundly that night, pretty sure a fuzzy thing curled up against his neck at some point.
Brendon awoke late the next morning, the small kitten cuddled against his stomach. It stretched luxuriously, a twinkle appearing in its blue eyes when it realised Brendon was awake. Brendon stood, stretching up before looking down at the cat, now situated on his foot.
“Äh, ich bin jetzt nicht zur Schule gehen, ich hoffe, Sie werden sich gegangen sein, als ich bin zurück.” (Uh, I'm going to school now, I hope you will have gone when I'm back) The kitten looked at him blankly. It was asleep on his bed again by the time Brendon was leaving.
That afternoon the kitten was awaiting Brendon’s return. Brendon sighed; this cat didn’t look like it planned on going anywhere anytime soon.
*
A few afternoons later Brendon was beginning his walk home when someone in a rusty old Mustang slowed down beside him. “Hey, Brendon!” It was Ryan.
“Um. Yess?” asked Brendon.
“Let’s hang out, jump in,” said Ryan, leaning over and opening the car door. Brendon slowed slightly before shrugging and climbing in.
Ryan drove Brendon to a nice-looking street. It wasn’t anything too fancy, but it was clean and to Ryan purity would suffice. Brendon liked the gardens, the grass was green and most houses had well-kept flowerbeds. This was a nice piece of suburbia. It was enviable.
Ryan stopped the car outside a two-storey timber house. It was painted a delicate shade of white while the shutters and doors were blood red. Brendon felt a slight twinge of jealousy towards Ryan’s nice house.
“Here we are,” said Ryan, stopping the car and climbing out. Brendon imitated his actions.
Ryan walked up the driveway, past two parked cars with Brendon trailing closely behind. Brendon was beginning to wonder if he should’ve gotten in the car with Ryan, he’d much rather sleep.
Ryan opened the door and walked in. He gazed around for a few seconds before leading Brendon up a steep staircase and into a nice room. Ryan had a few posters stuck to the wall, a double bed with a black quilt cover, a dressing table and a small television.
Ryan let out a sigh and collapsed onto his bed. “Lay down,” Ryan offered. Brendon climbed onto Ryan’s bed hesitantly, lying beside him on his bed. Ryan noted how close Brendon was, so he tentatively pushed his arm under Brendon’s head, while biting his lip. Brendon flinched at the contact, causing Ryan to extract his arm immediately.
Ryan had misinterpreted the slightest action. “Eet is okey,” said Brendon softly, using his small amount of knowledge to his advantage. Ryan grinned, any bad thoughts immediately vanishing. Ryan grabbed Brendon by the waist and pulled him close, chuckling slightly.
Brendon was too tired to protest against Ryan holding him in such a manner; he also had a small feeling that he had a small place in the heart of his beholder.
The next day at school Brendon sat in the back corner during English, he wasn’t disturbed and he was barely acknowledged. He was planning to skip History class next period and go to the German teacher. A sigh of relief left his lips when the bell rang and he was the first one out of the classroom.
It didn’t take him long to locate the teachers classroom, he knocked softly on the door before stepping back and waiting. Brendon only had to wait few seconds before the teacher pulled the door open. He smiled kindly at Brendon.
“Hallo gibt,” (Hello there) he said warmly, moving to the side to allow Brendon access. Brendon entered the classroom.
“Ich notwendigkeit Sie mir Englisch zu lehren,” (I need you to teach me English) replied Brendon urgently.
And that was that. Days passed and then weeks, before it blew into a month. Some days the complexity of the language left Brendon feeling as if he were running in circles. He spent all his free time reading English literature; they were nice books though they didn’t bring him the same pleasure as his treasured German manuscripts did.
One afternoon long after school had been let out Ryan found Brendon reading in the library. He was hunched over quite a thick book, his eyes moving slowly with the story. Ryan walked over, shamelessly seating himself next to Brendon at the white table.
“Hey,” said Ryan, causing Brendon to jump. Brendon tore his eyes away from the unfolding story to look at Ryan.
“Hey,” Brendon imitated. Ryan smiled.
“What are you reading?” asked Ryan, pointing at the thick book.
“Aus dem Leben eines Taugenichts.” (From the life of a good for nothing)
“Oh, okay.”
For the rest of the afternoon Ryan chose to sit with Brendon and watch as he read the unfamiliar words. Ryan didn’t understand why he was so drawn to Brendon, but he really thought that the boy was something very special.
*
Brendon saw Ryan a few more times over the next few days when they passed each other in various corridors, Ryan smiled and attempted to make small talk, occasionally Brendon would attempt to talk back, but for the majority of the time Brendon would only offer him a shy smile, before walking on blatantly.
Inevitably, Brendon began noticing that he had begun to use some English words when he was thinking to himself and when he conversed in German. This pleased his Mr. Stelmaschuck but scared Brendon a little; he was beginning to worry he was going to forget his own dialect. He’d learnt quite a few English words; when he was at home he’d write them each ten times, a strategy Brendon’s teacher had taught him, it was known as ‘rehearsal’ and it helped Brendon retain information.
He was quite a bright teenager with a sharp mind and he could pick things up quite quickly. Brendon felt accomplished whenever he learned a new word; it was as if the world was becoming a little bit clearer. This pleased him immensely.
One sunny afternoon Brendon was exiting through the front gate when Ryan caught up with him, instantly diving into a conversation. “Hey there, how’ve you been?” he asked happily.
“I heff bin…” Brendon struggled to remember the last word, ”good.” Ryan looked at him, a little perplexed.
“It’s so nice to hear you speaking English,” Ryan replied, a smile gracing his face. Brendon shrugged.
“I do not know zat much Engliss.”
“It’s still nice to hear you speak it… hey, would you like to come somewhere with me?” The way Ryan voiced the question made Brendon decide this was what the boy had been building up to.
“Yess.”
Ryan led Brendon to his old brown Mustang, it was slightly rusty but Brendon liked it, and Ryan seemed rather proud of it. “It’s my baby,” he said lovingly, stroking the chipped paint. Brendon snorted slightly; climbing in once Ryan had unlocked his door.
They drove down a few streets until Ryan turned onto a highway. Sometime through the duration of their car ride Brendon fell asleep, pressed against the door.
Ryan thought Brendon looked sweet while he was sleeping even if he didn’t look relaxed; he was mumbling dark things in German. Ryan shook Brendon awake gently, rousing the boy from his slumber. “Huh?” he asked tiredly.
“Look outside.”
Brendon squinted, getting used to the sun’s rays before realizing Ryan had taken him to a pretty piece of the countryside. The grass was green and the sky blue. The landscape was made up of grassy rolling hills, covered in a few trees. “This is my special place… I call it Eurora, don’t ask me why,” said Ryan softly and rather embarrassedly.
Though Brendon didn’t understand most of Ryan’s words, they washed over him nevertheless. He could feel the emotion in the other boy's voice, could tell Ryan was uneasy and perhaps a little self-conscious. Brendon wanted to do or say something reassuring, so Ryan would know Brendon appreciated the gesture.
“Zere is but a clod in de sky and ze sun hangss dere brings us ze hope of a new tomorrow,” said Brendon slowly, it wasn’t what he wanted to say exactly, but it would suffice.
Ryan looked into Brendon’s eyes, the colour of burnt sienna, and smiled. Ryan stepped towards Brendon, his moves slow and deliberate and clasped the boy’s hand softly, as though he were made of the most fragile porcelain. Brendon looked at their entwined hands and smiled.
“Come,” said Ryan. Brendon listened to the unfamiliar word; he listened to the tone of Ryan’s voice, it had a need, a compelling need, like Ryan wanted something, he wanted it badly.
Ryan tugged on Brendon’s hand and they began to ascend a hill. It was a gentle slope and it didn’t take them long to reach the top, Brendon a little behind Ryan due to his shorter legs. Ryan refused to let go of Brendon’s hand as he sat down, dragging the German boy down beside him.
The air at the top of the hill was crisp; much sweeter than city air. It was easier to breathe and the warm sun, the soft grass and many additional factors made Brendon want to go to sleep right then and there.
Both boys’ lay down on their backs, the sun’s warm rays beating down on both their faces. Brendon sighed contentedly and shut his eyes whilst Ryan rubbed his hand against Brendon’s stomach in circular motions. Brendon’s eyes furrowed and imprints of confusion adorned his forehead.
“Vot doess happen vhen zere iss a vord you cannot find? Vot doess you call dat?” Brendon asked, struggling to find the right words.
“What do you want to describe?” asked Ryan.
“Does not concern,” said Brendon uncomfortably. Ryan noted the strange assortment of words.
“You mean ‘don’t worry’?” asked Ryan, discontinuing rubbing Brendon’s abdomen.
Brendon shrugged. “Yess.”
They laid in tranquil silence for a few minutes before Ryan spoke. “I feel we have some sort of… connection, you know? I just know that I can tell you anything, and you won’t criticize me. It isn’t just because you don’t understand because I really feel you can. You listen and hear more things than most people,” Ryan hoped his words would have some sort of effect on Brendon, they came straight from his heart.
“Yess,” replied Brendon, he liked Ryan’s pretty words.
Brendon studied the wisps of bone white cloud spotted the blue sky. “Look at ze clod above us. Eet looks like a… um, cet,” commented Brendon, pointing to a distant cloud. Ryan looked at the cloud Brendon was referring to; unfortunately he couldn’t see the ‘cat’.
“I can’t see it.”
“Oh, okey.” Brendon sighed softly and moved the tiniest bit closer to Ryan. Ryan saw Brendon’s movement out of the corner of his eye. Ryan smiled a little.
“Hey, Brendon?”
“Yess?”
“Forgive me, but why exactly did you come here, to America I mean?” Brendon tried not to imagine the poor children that were dying as they spoke.
Brendon sighed. “Um, I hed none choice bet to come to America. Zey… forced? Forced me.”
“Oh, I’m sorry.”
“Thankss?” offered Brendon. Brendon and Ryan continued to lay on the grass in tranquil silence. Brendon dozed off at some point, instantly entering the dreaming realm.
Brendon was hiding under the couch, silent tears falling down his face as he heard enemy troops enter his house. The conversed in a foreign dialect and Brendon was convinced that if they walked past him, if they gave him a split second to escape he could run out the door.
His parents were gone; dead and Brendon had no brothers or sisters. A soldier stopped in front of the chair and looked under, he was a young thing and he looked rather terrified…
Brendon felt his arm being tugged as Ryan tried to wake the boy from his siesta. The dark abyss of night sky had nearly consumed the falling sun. Ryan was sitting beside Brendon as the German boy’s eyes fluttered open. “Hey, we really should get going, it’s almost dark.”
Brendon yawned widely in reply before standing. He followed Ryan down the slant, his eyes tired. Once they were back in the car Brendon was ready to fall asleep again. Ryan turned the radio on once they were back on the road whilst Brendon leaned against the car door.
Ryan watched Brendon’s progressions with his peripheral vision. “Don’t you get much sleep?” asked Ryan.
“E sleep,” murmured Brendon in reply. Brendon rarely got a good night’s sleep, his apartment scared him and the people in the apartments around him were always very raucous.
Brendon needed to stay awake for their trip back so he could tell Ryan which streets to turn down. He definitely wasn’t proud of where he lived and he really hoped Ryan would be tactful when they arrived at his apartment.
Ryan was surprised to find where Brendon lived. The whole street was foreboding; concrete jungle was the best way to describe the assortment of grotesquely shaped buildings. Brendon looked at his lap, hoping he wouldn't have to acknowledge the situation and Ryan kept quiet, understanding what a delicate place he'd been put in.
“I’ll see you tomorrow, good night,” was all Ryan said. Brendon uttered a hasty ‘good night’ in reply and exited the vehicle, thankful that Ryan didn’t question him. He heard Ryan drive away a few seconds later. Brendon rushed up the front stairs, his shoes slapping angrily against the concrete.
A variety of different sounds accosted him once he’d entered the building. He identified each of them as a blaring television. Relief struck him once he was on his own floor. The noise was considerably lower and for that he was grateful.
He unlocked the door to his apartment, letting out a sigh of relief. The day had been much too long for his liking, even if part of it had been spent with Ryan. Ryan. Brendon thought Ryan was okay. He was nice in an aloof sort of way.
Brendon sighed and lay down on his mattress, staring out the window. The stars were shining brightly against the night sky, and Brendon wondered if somewhere across the ocean his brothers were watching the same sky. He smiled longingly at the thought.
Brendon fell asleep waiting for the streetlights to go out.
The young man was a misadjusted individual and he really didn’t want to hurt the terrified boy. The soldier nodded solemnly and stood, leaving Brendon’s heart racing erratically.
“They’re all dead,” said the male gravely. Brendon heard the troops exit. Brendon saw a gun lying abandoned on the floor. It looked enticing. Very enticing. But he’d never be able to go through with it.
The next day Brendon had a spring in his step as he walked to school. He was looking forward to seeing Ryan again. Brendon didn’t see Ryan when he arrived and by lunchtime he’d lost hope.
Brendon found a nice place at the very back of the track field. There was a large oak tree next to a small bank that had some motionless water resting inside it. The whole atmosphere felt cathartic. He sat down, leaning against the old tree. Brendon reached into his back, extracting a red apple.
“Hey there,” said a nasally voice, causing Brendon to jump.
“Hallo?” asked Brendon, looking around frantically.
“Hi, I’m up in the tree,” Brendon instantly looked up, not recognizing the boy.
“Vhy?” asked Brendon, standing up.
“Because, I can see everything from up here. And no one bothers me,” said the boy; smiling widely, his brown eyes twinkling.
“Oh, okey,” replied Brendon, figuring that he was now in the category of people that bother the boy during lunch.
“Hey, it’s cool, come on up,” said the boy, leaning forward and extending a hand. Brendon began to climb the tree. The bark turned to metal; it was cutting Brendon’s hands, stabbing him. “Ugh,” muttered Brendon, falling from the tree. His arm twisted behind him and he landed on the ground with a soft thump.
“Ouch! Are you okay?” asked the boy, jumping down from the tree. Brendon stood dazedly, tears springing to his eyes as pain shot down his left arm when he tried to move his wrist.
“Sieht es aus wie ich bin okey!” (Does it look like I'm okay!) exclaimed Brendon angrily. The boy took a few steps back, a little frightened of Brendon’s outburst. Brendon clutched his sore wrist, his breathing irregular.
The boy tentatively took a few steps closer. “Here, show me, my dad’s a doctor, where does it hurt?” Brendon extended his wrist, which was already swelling. The boy grabbed it a little roughly, making Brendon hiss like an angry cat. The boy rubbed it slightly.
“I think it’s just a sprain, but we better go up to the nurse just in case.” The boy frowned, "Oh, I also noticed you were German, if I hadn’t of hurt your wrist I would’ve said a ‘wie geht es Ihnen’ (how are you) to ya.” Brendon mumbled darkly in reply, following the boy up to the school.
“My name is Jon, by the way, Jon Walker.”
“Brendon,” said Brendon in reply, still upset about his sore wrist. For the rest of the walk back up to the school Jon talked about everything and nothing in an attempt to keep Brendon’s mind off his wrist. Little did he know that his plan wasn’t working as well as he’d hoped, as he was talking much to fast for Brendon to even try and understand him.
The school nurse was an old tired-looking thing with gray skin and blue eyes. She inspected Brendon’s injured wrist closely before informing him that it was just a sprain. She wrapped his wrist up in white bandages.
“It should take about 4 to 6 weeks to heal – if it gets any worse go see a doctor.”
“Okey,” said Brendon in reply.
Jon was waiting outside the sick bay when Brendon exited, rubbing his bandaged arm.
“It’s just a sprain, right?” asked Jon anxiously when he saw Brendon.
“Yess.”
Jon let out a short sigh of relief. “Okay. That’s good. Well, not good good, but I’m glad it’s not broken.” Brendon nodded.
“What grade are you in?” asked Jon eagerly.
“I am in ze tenss grede.”
“Me too! What class do you have next?”
“History,” said Brendon, much too Jon’s delight.
The two boys made their way to History class together, arriving as the bell went. They sat next to each other at the back of the room. They sat in silence for ten minutes into the lesson before Jon started talking about his two pet cats.
“Their name’s are Dylan and Clover,” he said proudly. Brendon smiled.
“A ketten hess moved into mine home, wissout permission.” Jon giggled.
“What’s his name?”
“I heve not named hem yet. But I hass bin zinking of naming hem Verrückt.”
“Verrückt? What does that mean?”
“Crazy.”
“That’s a pretty… irregular cat name.”
“Yess.”
*
The months passed quickly as summer turned into winter and the once hot winds sent wintry chills down Brendon’s spine. The cold weather had stripped the trees of their leaves and all the lakes had turned to icy slush. Brendon had gotten to know Ryan a lot better over the passing months.
They returned to Eurora many times, each time laying on the same hill. They talked about everything and nothing and it was these times Brendon treasured most.
Inescapably, a close friendship blossomed between Jon and Brendon and every afternoon without fail Brendon would visit Jon at the coffee store where he worked. This afternoon was no different.
“Hello sir, what can I be getting you this fine afternoon?” asked Jon.
“I vould like somesing dainty. Vot does you hass in zis “Sterboocks”,” asked Brendon haughtily.
“Well, we have… coffee!” Brendon and Jon both burst out laughing. They repeated the same routine every afternoon but it never lost its humour.
“I vould like a glass ef milk, please,” said Brendon, smiling warmly.
“Sure thing.”
It took half an hour for Jon to finish his shift. Once it was over he and Brendon left the coffee shop, their hands shoved in their pockets. It had snowed the previous night, decorating the world in white.
“Do you wanna play in the snow?” asked Jon, grinning childishly.
“Okey,” Brendon agreed and they crossed the icy road to a park.
“Vot do ve do?” asked Brendon, leaning over and picking up some cold snow. It melted in his hand.
“This,” said Jon, throwing a large snowball at Brendon. It hit the unsuspecting boy on the side of the head. It didn’t hurt exactly but it sure did send chills down Brendon’s spine. Brendon instantly brushed the snow from his face.
“Zat vas not fair!” Brendon exclaimed as Jon threw another snowball at him, narrowly missing Brendon’s chest.
They played in the snow for a while until it became clear that Jon was the winner. “Okey, okey, you cen vin!” exclaimed Brendon as he dodged another snowball.
“Yeah!” exclaimed Jon, punching the cold air.
They sat on a bench together, panting heavily as their hearts raced erratically, trying to heat them from the inside. “That was fun,” commented Jon, white fog escaping his mouth before vanishing into the air.
“Y-yeah,” replied Brendon as he shivered. Jon looked at him curiously.
“Brendon?”
“M-mhm-m?”
“Your lips are blue.”
“A-are z-zey?” asked Brendon, touching them. Jon swallowed some saliva in his mouth nervously.
“Brendon?”
“Y-yess?”
“Do you want me to warm them up?” Jon didn’t wait for an answer as he leaned forward, connecting their cold lips. It was an innocent kiss; just flesh against flesh, but it was enough to send chills down Brendon’s spine.
Brendon looked down at his pale hands once they parted, he was wondering if this would jeopardize his relationship with Ryan. But then he wondered if he even had a relationship with Ryan.
“What are you thinking?” asked Jon.
“Nusink.” This may’ve disappointed Jon a little. Just a little.
Later that afternoon Brendon was wandering around, going nowhere in particular. It was snowing lightly, the white flakes melting when they landed on Brendon’s long-sleeved shirt. Brendon looked up a little fearfully when a car slowed down and drove beside him. The car’s windows were foggy.
“Hallo?” asked Brendon, stopping and trying to look into the car’s window. The window wound down.
“Hey, Brendon,” said Ryan warmly, “what are you doing out in this weather?”
“Nusink, just zinking.”
“Would you like to come over?”
“Okey.”
Brendon climbed into the car, relieved to find that Ryan had his heater on. They drove in silence; Ryan kept sneaking glances at Brendon every now and then, a little confused as to why Brendon looked so grave.
“What’s wrong, Brendon?”
“E sink E did somesing vrong.”
Ryan frowned. “What do you think you did wrong?”
“Jon? ‘E kissed me?”
Ryan’s jaw tightened a little as a wave of jealousy surged through him. “Oh.”
“E em sorry.”
“What? No, it’s fine. We’re not even togethertogether, really,” said Ryan in reply, lying through his teeth.
It was airy inside Ryan’s house; the cold drafts instantly sending Brendon into a fit of shivers. “You get cold very easily,” commented Ryan.
“Yess.”
Ryan led Brendon into the lounge room, where a large electric fire was crackling. Brendon went and sat on the couch, goosebumps covering his skin as he warmed up.
“Wait here,” said Ryan before he exited the room. Brendon heard footsteps running up the stairs.
Ryan returned a few minutes later with a large blanket and two fluffy pillows. “You better be ready for a hardcore cuddling session,” said Ryan, throwing the blanket on top of Brendon.
Brendon poked his head out of the blanket, just as Ryan jumped onto the bed, ducking under it. Brendon buried his head in Ryan’s chest. He found the steady beating of Ryan’s heart reassuring.
They lay like that until the black sky consumed the sun.
Ryan drove Brendon home that afternoon, a soft kiss between the two boys ensued before Brendon went inside. On his doorstep he found a letter with the German seal.
He slept restlessly that night.
*
The war is over, you will be returning home in three days, the same twelve words repeated endlessly in Brendon’s mind as he walked to school the next day. He was leaving too soon, much too soon. When he’d first arrived here Brendon was sure he would’ve done anything to return to his home country, but now he wasn’t sure if he wanted to return at all.
Three days was an awfully short amount of time to show someone that they mean the world to you. Ryan accosted Brendon as soon as he’d entered the school gate. “Hey, Brendon!” he exclaimed, his voice joyful.
“Hi,” replied Brendon tentatively, not having the heart to look Ryan in the eye. Instead, he chose a piece of grass. It was a nice piece of grass. Yes, very nice – just the right shade of green.
“Why won’t you look at me?” asked Ryan, placing a hand on Brendon’s shoulder. Brendon pushed it away. He looked up, into Ryan’s confused eyes and sighed.
“E em fearful,” said Brendon. Ryan frowned.
“Why, what’s wrong?” The bell rang, echoing across the school grounds.
“Mey ve go to Eurora zis afternoons, please?” One last time? Brendon left his unfinished sentence hanging in midair.
“Yeah, sure? Brendon… if there’s something wrong you can tell me, okay?”
“Yess.”
The two boys parted, a weight hanging heavily in one of their hearts.
*
For the first time ever Brendon wasn’t happy when he went to Eurora with Ryan. Usually, the beautiful place past the city and the desert made Brendon feel good, but it now had the distinct air of foreboding, much like the air accosting Brendon’s apartment.
Ryan and Brendon lay together on the grass on the same hill as usual. Ryan wanted to hold Brendon close to him, but the boy was adamantly remaining further away than usual. Ryan respected his personal space and silence.
“Ryan?” asked Brendon, his voice slightly hoarse.
“Yeah, Bren?”
“E need you to look efter Verrückt fer me.”
Ryan frowned. “Why?”
“Just because.”
“Okay… for how long?”
Brendon sighed. “Forever.”
Ryan sat up straight, staring down at the boy lying beside him who was pointedly staring at the sky. “What do you mean ‘forever’?” asked Ryan suspiciously. Brendon sighed, his gaze remaining fixed on the heavens.
“E em leaving… E em going beck to Germany.”
“When?”
“En two dayss.”
Brendon was expecting Ryan to be angry, maybe a part of him even wanted the boy to scream at him; tell him why he shouldn’t go. What came next was completely unexpected. Ryan leaned over and kissed him harshly on the lips. Ryan kissed him angrily, passionately and despairingly. All the bad things seemed to vanish from the world as the two souls lay there, connected at the lips. The kiss became wet and Brendon pulled away when he realised he was crying.
“Ve cennot do zis,” said Brendon in a hushed voice. Ryan tried to unite their lips again, but Brendon placed a shaky hand on the boy’s chest.
“Why?” asked Ryan hotly.
“Because, I does not vant to be left vanting more eff you vhen E haff two dayss left here!” exclaimed Brendon. Ryan bit his lip and nodded.
“I’m sorry… it was a stupid idea… and yeah I’ll look after Verrückt for you…”
“Cen you teke me home, please?”
“Yeah. Yeah… come on.”
They walked down the hill together, hand in hand. Brendon’s head was hung low; he didn’t have the heart to look at Eurora one last time. They drove to Brendon’s apartment in silence.
They parked outside the old building and Brendon exited the car. “Come up… you cen get Verrückt,” he said sadly. Ryan followed him through the building and up to Brendon’s apartment on the third floor.
Verrückt was waiting patiently on Brendon’s bed; it gave Ryan a perplexed look before setting its sights on Brendon, who was seconds away from crying. Brendon walked over to the cat, picking it up and cradling it in his arms.
“I em sorry I ever dreamt eff kicking you out, Verrückt. You heff mede a great companion for my stey here. I cen only hope Ryan vill treasure you es much as E,” said Brendon desolately, before handing the confused animal to Ryan.
“I’ll take you to the airport, what time is your flight leaving?”
“Et ten on Mondey.”
“Okay, I’ll see you soon. Don’t worry, I’ll take really good care of Verrückt.”
“E know, see you,” said Brendon, clearly dismissing Ryan.
*
The next two days passed much too fast and all too soon Monday had arrived.
The car ride to the airport was far from enjoyable. Brendon and Ryan barely said a word to each other. Ryan focused on the road in front while Brendon stared out the window, saying a final silent goodbye to the varied landscape whirling along beside them.
They arrived at the airport much too soon. Brendon went inside to register his ticket and give them his suitcases while Ryan parked the car. They met up at the Gate Brendon was leaving from. It was all happening too fast… much too fast.
“Het me up sometime… if you ere ever in Germany,” said Brendon finally, as people began to queue and board the plane.
“Yeah… look, try to get a visa, okay? So you can come back.”
“Yeah, I vill try. I must go line up now… goodbye, Ryan.”
Brendon began to turn around, refusing to let his pent up tears escape his eyes.
“Brendon?”
Brendon faced Ryan again. “Yess?”
“You’re the one I want to fall in love with.”
“…Yes, and you I. Do not vorry Ryan, ve shall meet again.”
‘And this is the last call for flight 117 from America to Germany. Und dies ist die letzte Aufforderung zur Einreichung von Flug 117 aus Amerika nach Deutschland’ rang out a cool female voice over the intercom. Brendon turned away and took a few steps before Ryan called him again.
“Brendon!”
“Yeah?” he asked exasperatedly, facing Ryan again.
“Fuck it!”
Ryan rushed forward, connecting their lips one last time.
FIN