Futile Wars

Chapter 8

Say it in daylight.

Ryan

I've settled myself in the corner of the couch in Brendon's living room. This is my corner and I have my hands wrapped around my legs, which are in front of me as a shield. Everywhere else I see Adam or Brendon and Adam. But here I don't see too much.

I see Brendon's keyboard on the other side of the room, I see random papers lying on the coffee table in front of me, I see South Park DVDs scattered by the TV, clothes on the floor, CDs, empty glasses with fingerprints all over and I wonder if I could feel anymore out of place. It was a mistake coming here.

It's a big living room and Brendon's sitting on the other couch, cornered next to mine. We're not even sharing a couch. Maybe I shouldn't have yelled at him, but I was sick of him trying to convince me that Adam doesn't mean shit. He does and I will not let Brendon lull me into thinking that he loves me and Adam is just some meaningless little thing. I'm not that naïve.

I notice there's a guitar by the door.

"Do you play guitar these days?" I ask Brendon and he shakes his head.

"It's Adam's." Figures, the guy is perfect in general, he must play guitar too. "He's not very good, though," Brendon adds and I shot him an annoyed look. There he goes again.

Brendon sighs. "It's the truth. He's not. I'm not saying that to make you think less of him."

I snort in disbelief.

"Fine, Ryan, fine! I'll tell you about Adam. Ok?" Brendon says and glares at me, "He's a funny guy. He's got a funny, clever sense of humour and I love his wit. He loves photography and drawing and arts of all kinds, and he's pretty good at it as well. Loves taking pictures of me, says I'm photogenic. And he's really good to talk to about things, he's intriguing and I still haven't quite figured him out. He's loving, thoughtful, unselfish and kind," he says and pauses. "There. Are you happy now?"

"I am," I say.

I need to hear this. I need to know that Adam is better than me, because if I don't I'm worried I'll get carried away, thinking I'm special, thinking Brendon thinks I'm special when I'm not.

"Good, but I'm not done yet," Brendon says and moves on his couch to sit closer to me. "Adam is also other things. He gets upset by the tiniest thing and he can keep a fight going for hours, even if we've already said everything three times. He just can't let things go. He has wild mood swings that are dangerous to his health. He's stubborn and insecure and most of the time I feel like I'm his parent instead of his boyfriend. Once he starts his self-pity there is no pulling him out of it. He's a walking wreck, because I can't give him what he wants. And what he wants is me. It's the only fucking thing he really wants. And I can't give him me, not all of me, because a part of me will always be with you. And yeah, you don't want to believe me, that's fine, you have no reason to trust me. But I'm not trying to string you along," Brendon says and pauses, "I've lied enough, Ryan. You wanted the truth? Well this is it. And it's not nice and I'm not trying to make it sound nice."

There are tears on Brendon's face and I feel like shit.

"Don't you know I wish I loved him more?" he whispers, "Just to give myself a fucking break. But I don't. I don't."

I feel ashamed and I cannot stand to watch the tears roll down Brendon's cheeks. Brendon buries his face in his hands and lets out a long, quivery sigh.

"I'm tired," Brendon whispers. I get up from my couch and crawl into his arms. I wrap my arms around him and rest my chin on his shoulder.

"I'm sorry. I feel like an idiot," I say.