Futile Wars

Chapter 3

I could never protect him from me.

Ryan

"Brendon..." I whisper. I've been waiting all day to talk to him, but he's been avoiding me. Now that we're here in bed and he's in my arms he can't escape.

"Brendon, do you love me?" I ask in the darkness of the bedroom. I wait for him to reply, but it doesn't come. "Brendon?"

I hear his steady breathing. He's fallen asleep. I feel angry and frustrated: what do I have to do to get a minute of his attention? I sit up on the bed, take my pillow and use it to hit Brendon with all I've got. He immediately shoots up from his sleepy state.

"Hey! What the fuck was that for?!" he snaps and I can tell I've managed to piss him off. "That was uncalled for!"

He's scaring me, but I need to stick up for myself.

"We need to talk about things, Brendon!" I argue.

"What's the point, huh, Ryan? It doesn't change anything. Now stop acting like a fucking 6-year-old and let me sleep!" he yells and tears the pillow from my hands. He throws it back on the bed and lies back down.

I start crying, because Brendon has just rejected me again and I feel so utterly sorry for myself.

"Fine! Have it your way!" I exclaim and leave the bed. Brendon doesn't move.

I pull my suitcase from underneath our bed and leave it lying on the floor. I start going through Brendon's room, throwing my stuff in it. The sound of it makes Brendon turn around on the bed to face me.

"What are you doing?"

I don't answer, I keep throwing my clothes in the suitcase.

"Ryan, what are you doing?"

"Fuck off!" I yell at him.

Brendon smirks. "Whatever." He turns back around to face the wall.

I get even angrier. I am no longer crying, I feel the last ounce of pride swell up inside me. "You are so weak," I spit in disgust.

"What did you say?" Brendon turns around again and sits up on the bed.

"You heard me!" I yell at him. "I am done with this shit! You don't want to put any effort into this relationship - fine! Fine! I am sick and tired of trying, when you won't even lift a fucking finger!"

"I am trying, but I don't want to talk about it at fucking 2am!" Brendon protests.

"You never want to talk about it! You don't want to admit that you fucked up, because you're too proud!" I yell back and we're both getting angrier by the minute. "You're being stupid!"

"Don't call me stupid!" he spits back, "I'm not the one packing his shit in the middle of the night! We're not doing this now so shut the hell up and come back to bed."

"No," I refuse.

"Ryan," he commands me.

"NO!" I shout and he glares at me. "You don't want to fix this," I say quietly, defeatedly.

"For Christ's sake," he mutters and rolls his eyes, "How many times do we have to go through this same-"

"Fuck you, Brendon! FUCK YOU!"

I storm out of the room before that asshole gets the chance to say another word.

Brendon

Adam. I have cheated on Adam. And there is the guilt, but for some odd reason, it doesn't feel nearly as bad as I would have imagined. I don't feel like I have done anything wrong. With Ryan everything always felt right. Nothing was too rushed or too sudden, everything was perfect all the time. And this too, a drunken fuck, feels just right. I don't regret it.