The Impossible is Possible (Ryden)

Chapter 14

Brendon's beginning to get a stitch in his side.

He's on his eighth lap around the field, and he can already feel himself close to giving up. The teacher is off ill or something, and so a Math teacher has had to cover games - and she just sent them off to do laps around the field for forty minutes. Brendon decides, as he turns the corner and starts the ninth lap, that he's not very fond of Math teachers anymore.

Everybody else in the class isn't exactly happy about it, either, but he's not running with any of them. Jon is running with a group of his more popular friends, and Spencer had managed to forge a note saying that he's too ill to take part, and is instead in the computer rooms somewhere with Brent.

The only other people he knows in the class are Timothy and Ryan. Timothy is racing ahead of everybody else - and shoving into Brendon every time he overlaps him - and Ryan is dwindling even further behind than Brendon, choosing to walk rather than run. Brendon glances over his shoulder, to see that the boy is staring at the sky as he ambles on, evidently deep in thought. Brendon sighs, and looks ahead of him again.

He means to take Jon's advice and talk to Ryan, but he has no idea how to do it. It's so, so painful to see him, and not be able to kiss him or touch him or even talk to him. He wants nothing more than to just lie somewhere warm with the boy, murmuring softly, and running his lips across Ryan's. He just hopes that he plucks up the courage to speak to him, and soon.

Just as he begins to deliberate where he's going to take Ryan for their quiet talk, somebody slams into his shoulder, sending him sprawling into the grass. He blinks a few times in surprise, his elbow knocking painfully against the ground, and sits up. He looks up, reluctantly, to find Timothy standing over him, a smile on his lips.

"Sorry about that," he says, in a strangely bright voice. He holds out a hand, which Brendon cautiously takes, and hauls him to his feet. As Brendon reaches his level, he leans in close, and mutters, "You and your little boyfriend had better watch your backs. Nobody gets away with fucking stabbing me. You'll both pay, so look out."

Brendon wrenches his hand from the taller boy's grip, a flicker of fear sparking inside. "I didn't do anything wrong," he protests. "Don't do anything to Ryan, either. He didn't stab you. You just got a little cut."

"He used a knife, and he can't get away with that," Timothy growls, but he looks unperturbed at Brendon's words. "You both can't get away with it. Just you wait."

Brendon opens his mouth to try and defend the two of them even more, but Timothy just laughs, and speeds off again. Brendon stays where he is, glaring at the muscular back of the footballer, wondering what the hell is going to happen to him now, when he feels somebody tap him gently on the back.

He turns, startled, and feels as though his heart has leapt into his mouth. Ryan stands by him, looking curious and startled. Being so close to him makes Brendon have to physically stop himself from pressing his lips against Ryan's. "Hi," he says, a little breathlessly, from all the effort of restraining himself.

"Hey," Ryan replies, quietly, watching a couple of boys run past. "How are you?"

"Um. Not very good. Timothy said that he's going to get the both of us back for. Um, for --"

"For me stabbing him," Ryan nods, and then sighs. "I'm sorry for involving you in something like this. I'll stop talking to you and then Timothy will have no need to pay you have for what I've done."

Brendon's eyes go wide. "What? Fuck. Don't you dare stop talking to me."

Ryan's eyebrows raise. Brendon's never used such a such a sharp tone with him before, and it's got to be at least a little surprising. "Why not?" Ryan demands, using the same tone back, and folding his arms. Brendon realises, then, that the time for Jon's advice has come.