Missing in Action

Chapter 016

A year earlier Ryan would never imagine having been in a dorm room. Even a few months ago, during his stay in Beauregia, he wouldn't have imagined inhabiting another one willingly. But the dorm room was part of his scholarship, and an apartment of his own would've cost extra. Ryan wasn't exactly made of money, so the decision was easy. After three months in England and nearly as long at Oxford University, he was about settled in. Not to mention buried in assignments. He'd ended up deciding on English lit as his major, throwing in some creative writing classes, and music as his minor, and altogether that definitely gave him a lot to do. Honestly, he was quite grateful for that fact. He was in a new country where he knew no one and everyone looked at him oddly because of the rumours and news reports that had made it this far. He'd never been good at making new friends, was really a bit too shy for that, and to add to that he now didn't know which of the people who approached him just wanted to be able to say they were friends with a 'hero'. He couldn't wait for that whole farce to blow over.

It didn't make things any easier that while he spoke to Spencer and Jon at least once a week, often more, he hadn't spoken to Brendon at all, practically. He knew from the other two that the former Prince was doing better, was smiling and speaking a whole lot more again, but Ryan seemed to have a constant ache in his chest that got worse the longer he didn't see or speak to the boy. But at the same time he had never been able to bring himself to pick up the phone and dial Brendon's number, and Brendon hadn't called either. Nor had there been emails, and 'Zeke' had been suspiciously absent from every chat room Ryan could think of. And missing Brendon, and to maybe a lesser extent, every one else, didn't exactly make socialising any easier. So maybe he was back to being the weird, quiet kid he had been in law school, but he didn't really know how to break out of that shell, and it didn't help that most people here were younger than him, which just felt awkward.

He pushed the troubling thoughts away and went back to the empty music sheet shining from the screen on his laptop. Jazz composition. Why the hell jazz? He groaned inaudibly and ran a hand over his face for a moment, closing his eyes, but when he opened his eyes the assignment still said to make a variation over Georgia on My Mind. Ryan didn't want to analyse Dickens' A Christmas Carol, he definitely didn't want to make variations over White Christmas (which, thank God, he hadn't been assigned), and he just didn't want it to be Christmas, period. It was only early December, but the Christmas depression had set in the moment he realized his mother wasn't going to come visit. She hadn't been able to scratch together enough money, and when Tobias had offered to pay, the government had made it clear that she wouldn't get a visa for England for years to come. Apparently they felt cheated out of punishing him and had to make things worse. And Tobias was being kept on assignment and couldn't come either. Christmas was all well and good. At least when you could look forward to spending it with someone you loved, rather than alone in a strange country. adding in solos in the different instruments. He took a breath, rolled his eyes, and started typing in notes. It could be worse. The composition teacher could've decided to follow the flow of his 1800's lit teacher and go completely Christmas.

***

It had taken a whole three weeks of having Jon and Spencer stare at and whisper about him for Brendon to start talking again. They knew that Ryan's departure had hurt him, even though Brendon kept pretending to feel sick, but they'd be damned if they let him wallow in self-pity. Now, three months after the departure, Brendon was normal again, acting like he had in school. Acting like he had before meeting Ryan. Spencer, though happy to see his best friend again, hated seeing Brendon act as though Ryan had never existed and he constantly suggested that he call the other man, or even go visit. Every time it came up, though, Brendon would glare at him and then proceed to give him the silent treatment for a few hours.