Futile Wars

Chapter 4

I feel sick, but I don't say anything.

Ryan

I've got dressed and am ready to go, but Brendon's not done yet. I gave him my boxers to wear and let him use my toothbrush - we share saliva anyway, so it doesn't gross me out. He's ruffling his hair, trying to perfect it. I watch him from the door as he peers into the mirror on the wall.

I can't help but think about the situation with Adam. I feel so helpless knowing that Brendon is going through hell and there is nothing I can do about it. I don't really care if Adam finishes himself off, not at all. In fact I'd probably organise a damn parade to celebrate it. But if Adam committed suicide it would kill Brendon. Just imagine your boyfriend deciding that they no longer wanted to live because of something you did. And Brendon would carry that guilt with him for the rest of his life, thinking that he killed Adam.

My first instinct is to get Brendon far, far away from Adam, to get Brendon the hell out of a situation where he could get seriously hurt. At the same time I know I can't do anything. Brendon's happiness is no longer in my hands. And let's face it; it seems to me that Adam would definitely kill himself if Brendon left him. And Adam might kill himself even if Brendon stays with him. What a messed up, sick, twisted situation. And I can only stand here and watch, hope for the best.

If Adam permanently scars Brendon, I will die a bit myself. If I ever have to witness the light in Brendon's eyes fade even a little, something in me will fade with it. I remember I said it to Brendon once, years ago now, that I would die for him. Last year I probably said that I wished he was dead. I know I wouldn't die for him anymore, but a part of me would die with him. And I would not let Brendon die without putting up one hell of a fight to save him.

"Good to go!" Brendon grins and gives me a twirl. He stops and touches his temple. "Oh, wow, that was a bad idea. I feel a bit sick." He picks up the vodka bottle from the table and smirks. "No wonder why, we drank three quarters of it!"

"That's more than I usually drink on a night out with Spencer," I laugh.

It occurs to me that I probably shouldn't tell Spencer, my best friend of many years, about this. I told Spencer I was meeting Brendon, but I don't think it a good idea to tell him we slept together. Spencer would kill me. He hates Brendon with a passion after what he did to me. Maybe I'm a bit stupid, letting Brendon close to me again.

We leave the flat without running into my flatmates. They probably heard our drunken singing last night and thought it best to hide. Once on the street we don't hold hands. In fact now I feel a bit weary about physical contact.

Where do we stand? I don't know. Are we friends, are we lovers or are we ex-boyfriends? Can I touch Brendon? Would he flinch? This is too complicated.

I show him my neighbourhood a bit, pointing to places I go to. I live a 10 minute walk from campus and the café we go to is halfway. He gets us a table and I get us hot chocolates. Surprisingly neither one of us can handle the thought of solid food just now.

We don't really know what to say, but the silence isn't awkward. The silence feels understanding. I know we should talk, but I'm afraid of hearing something I don't want to. 'Ryan, last night was a mistake' or 'Ryan, last night made me realise that Adam is the one for me'.

"Ryan," Brendon says, "Last night... I want you to know I regret nothing."

I look at Brendon and I'm pretty sure he can see I feel relieved.

"Yeah, me neither. But what does it mean, though? I mean... I don't know," I sigh and run my fingers through my hair. Brendon didn't shower and his hair screams 'I had sex last night', being fluffy and a mess and all over the place. It looks amazing on him. I try to concentrate. "What do you want from me, Brendon?"