everything here is just useless/pointless/junked work.
usually it'll be oneshots written for friends and songfics, when they come to mind, if they ever do again. or, on the off chance i like how a dead-end came out, i'll post parts of that.
enjoy,
and everything is copyright to me [sayanachan/krissy].
please and thank yooooou.
Ryan had been sitting on the floor of the bathroom for a long time, Brendon had lost track after two hours. The older boy had demanded that he leave him alone, that he wanted to be alone, but Brendon was wise to his friend would be doing on the bathroom floor, so he left the door slightly ajar, and he sat outside of it, listening and waiting for him to calm down. He wished he could stop him, wished he could make Ryan see that he didn’t need that razor blade or the faded marks on his arms. He wished his friend wouldn’t talk the way he had tonight, saying that he was worthless, and not worth a second glance. Brendon wished, more than anything, that he could make Ryan see how beautiful he really was. The dark haired boy’s thoughts were interrupted by a gasp, and a small grunt of pain. Turning quickly, Brendon swung the door open to see Ryan holding his left wrist, blood steadily draining from it.
“Ryan…”
“What are you doing? I told you to leave.” Ryan was already too weak to raise his voice, much less force Brendon to leave. The younger boy moved forward, grabbing a towel from the ground and wrapped Ryan’s wrist with it.
“Brendon, what are you doing? You don’t know what I want, don’t fucking do this to me!”
Brendon didn’t say anything, and didn’t move.
“Brendon let me go, I want to die, don’t you get it?”
“What I don’t get,” Brendon whispered, “is why. You don’t see what you possess, Ryan. You’re blind to your own value, your own beauty. You’re always so calm, you’re like…I don’t even know. You radiate this light that you can’t see, but everyone else can. It kills me every time you do this to yourself and now you’ve gone and…” Brendon didn’t finish his sentence, just trailed off waiting for Ryan to command him to leave again. However, those words never came, and Ryan only leaned against his friend.
“I’m sorry Brendon. I’m so sorry. I never realized…” Ryan trailed off, his eyes staring at nothing. After a moment, he looked up at his friend. “The way you talk about me, I’m like the moon.” The older boy laughed weakly and sighed. Brendon carefully lifted the towel, now soaked in Ryan’s blood, to check the cut. It had started to congeal, but he knew that he had to get Ryan to a hospital soon.
“You are the moon, Ryan. You can’t see it; you need someone else to help you, a mirror.”
“You could be my mirror.” Ryan said, quietly. “As far as I’m concerned, you already are.”
Brendon looked at his friend, and smiled gently.
“Really?”
“It’s the first thing I’ve said tonight that I’ve actually meant.”
Brendon leaned down and kissed Ryan’s forehead, knowing that things would be different now. The moon’s light wouldn’t be skewed anymore, only reflected perfectly.
[[[you are the moon; the hush sound]]]
dkdo
[don't know, don't own]
Pete handed the crumpled sheet of paper to Patrick, not meeting the younger boy’s anxious gaze.
“What’s this, Pete?” Patrick asked, knowing full well what it was. Pete didn’t miss the shaking in his friend’s voice.
“Lyrics. For a song I wrote for…um…”
Patrick shook his head, not needing to hear who it was for. He’d figure it out eventually.
“Okay, I’ll, ah, see what I can do with it.” Pete nodded once and stuffed his hand in the pockets of his black hoodie.
“Thanks Trick. So, Ashlee’s waiting, I have to go. See you tomorrow?”
“Yeah, see ya. Say ‘hi’ to Ash for me.”
“Will do.”
And Pete was gone out the front door, moving like he was guilty of murder. Patrick sighed and looked down at the paper, glancing over the chicken scratch that was Pete’s handwriting. The words sunk in and his mouth fell open, just a touch. Patrick’s shoulder’s slumped, and he silently berated himself. He should have known this was coming, he knew what Ashlee meant to Pete, why had he thought that anything different would have happened? Scanning the rest of the paper, the boy could feel his eyes beginning to sting, threatening tears. Honestly, why had he assumed anything different would have happened? Would Pete have really chosen him over Ashlee? He re-read it over and over, trying to decide if the message was as clear as he hoped it wasn’t. Pete wasn’t one to mince words though, and this was an obvious one. Patrick took a deep breath and put the lyrics down on the table in his kitchen. There was no use crying over this. It was true, what the older boy was saying.
Honey is for bees.
He was just a silly bear.
End
