Something Worth Living For {Ryden AU}

8c

Ryan's not at school today. And he hasn't been answering his phone. I tried calling all day yesterday after he left, getting his voicemail every time. And now it's seventh period on a Friday, I'm supposed to be working on a paper about the Mayans, and all I can think about is Ryan.

He doesn't just not come to school. I mean, until yesterday, he hadn't missed a single day. Something is definitely wrong, and I can't even stay still in my seat, my leg bouncing and my fingers tapping impatiently on my desk while I glance at the clock every two minutes.

"Brendon!" Jayda hisses from beside me, drawing my attention as my head snaps to her.

"Hm, what?" I mutter distractedly, glancing back at the clock. Three more minutes.

"What is wrong with you?" she asks, looking at me like I've gone mental.

"Nothing, it's - I'm fine," I sigh. I'm far from fine. I've always thought my sense of intuition is uncanny, and this is one of the times when I can literally feel that something is wrong. Honestly I'm seconds away from just walking out of the classroom right now.

"I'm your twin, Brendon. Do you really think I can't tell when something is wrong with you?" she asks with her signature Jayda expression, the one that kind of says 'are you stupid?' She turns sideways in her seat to face me. Our teacher isn't paying attention, but we keep our voices hushed anyway.

"Ryan's not here," I whisper urgently, turning around like she did. "He's always here, Jay. Something is wrong."

"Yeah, I've been worried too," she bites her lip. "But I have an idea."

"What?" I ask immediately, ready to do whatever I can. The bell rings, interrupting us, and Jayda just beckons me to follow her. She takes me to the front office, signaling that I should let her do the talking and walking up to the receptionist.

"Hi, Ms. Barbara," she beams, the woman instantly offering her a warm smile. Jayda is the biggest suck up I know. But she has an in with practically all the teachers.

"Hi dear, what can I do for ya?" the middle aged, red-headed woman asks pleasantly.

"Well, our friend Ryan - you know the boy who just moved here this year, real quiet and shy? - well he was sick today, and he absolutely hates missing school work," Jayda says in a pitying tone, her hand over her heart. "And he wants us to bring it to him but we don't have his address. Do you think you could give it to us?" she asks hopefully, slapping on another charming smile. Ms. Barbara pretty much melts, looking at Jayda as if she wishes she was her daughter.

"Of course, dear," she smiles, clicking a few things on the computer and scribbling down an address on a sticky note. "Here you go. Look at you two, being good friends and going out of your way to help. Too bad most of the other students aren't like you," she simply fawns, her eyes wrinkling at the corners.

"Aw, well we don't mind! We'll see you next week," Jayda grins, waving and dragging me out of the office and outside of the building into the parking lot. "And now we have his address," she waves the paper in front of me, smiling victoriously. I gape, finally understanding her purpose in this.

"You genius little bitch."

* * *

Ryan's house is... not what I expected. For some reason I thought it was going to be an old, decaying place unfit for inhabitants with a dungeon. But it's actually really, really nice. The architecture is simply stunning, and there's a beautiful garden out front that has clearly had a lot of work put into it. "Wow," I hum, completely taken aback.

"I know. What, are his parents fucking loaded or something?" Jayda huffs, looking around with interest. "Anyway, you go. I'll stay here," she says, giving me a little push. I don't argue - it's not something she should get involved in anyway. It's my thing to deal with.

I don't expect anyone to answer when I knock, which they don't. There are no cars in the driveway, so his parents are clearly not here. But I know Ryan is in there. I take a breath, knowing full well that I'm breaking the law here, but I turn the knob, fucking praying that it's unlocked, and I release my breath when it easily opens. I walk in, closing the door behind me and looking around at a house that I can't describe as anything but plain fancy. It's weird.

"Ryan," I whisper-yell, darting my eyes around and biting my lip. The kitchen is empty, as is the living room, dining room, and the bathroom. I go to the stairs, calling Ryan's name, but no answer. It's not until I pass a dead-bolted door in the hallway that I realize where he is. I feel like crying, staring at this door. There are two locks on it, sure to keep anyone from getting out. This is where Ryan spent his childhood, where he sat day after day alone and unaware of everything the world has to offer.

I undo the locks, swinging the door open and calling down, "Ryan?" I don't hear anything at first, but then I hear a soft sound, a whimper, and I'm darting down the stairs in two seconds flat. The basement is set up sort of like a bedroom. But it's what I'd figure the bedroom of a prisoner would look like.

There are no windows, and the only furniture is a tiny bed, a chair, a bookshelf, and a table. That's it. That's all that's down here. I hear another whimper, and I see a figure in the corner of the room, curled into a ball and rocking back and forth. "Ryan," I breathe in relief, darting over and kneeling in front of him.

"No, no," he tries to get away. "I'm sorry!" he cries, covering his face.

"Ryan, no," I say softly, and his head jerks up to look at me. "Hey, baby, it's me. It's me," I soothe, tentatively petting through his hair. Then he's flinging himself onto me, clinging to me like a leech and sobbing.

"Brendon, please take me with you," he cries. "Please, please don't leave me in here." His small frame shakes with his sobs, vibrating against me and making it really hard for me to keep up my brave façade.

"Come on," I whisper, pulling him up and holding him as tight against me as I can while I lead him up the stairs. "We're going to my house. And you're not ever coming back here again, okay?" I say, stopping when we're in the hallway again and taking his face in my hands. "I want you to show me your room so when can get some of your things," I say. He nods, tears falling silently down his already tear-streaked face. I lean forward, kissing him and trying to will some kind of sense of it's going to be okay into him.

He leads me upstairs into a simple-looking room, grabbing his usual bag and stuffing his most important possessions in it quickly. We're back downstairs in no time, ready to walk out the door. But we stop short as a tall woman enters the front door, keys in hand. Ryan whimpers, standing behind me, and the woman looks at us, baffled. It's obviously his mother.

"Who are-"

"Shut up," I interrupt her, walking forward and glaring as hard as I can. I may have felt a little sympathy for her yesterday, but it's different when I'm right here, face to face with part of the reason that Ryan is so messed up. "Now, let me make things really clear for you. I know that your husband abuses Ryan, and I know all about the two of you locking him in the fucking basement," I shake my head at her in disgust. "I'm taking him with me right now, and if you try to stop me I'll call the cops," I warn. Her eyes widen more with each word. "He's not coming back here. You people are sick. But I'll say this one time; you and your disgusting fucking husband will never, ever lay another hand on him or torment him ever again."

She says absolutely nothing, staring in shock and hesitantly stepping aside to let us pass. I give her one last hard look before dragging Ryan out the door and to my mom's car that Jayda borrowed. We get in the back seat, nobody saying a word. Ryan sidles up to me, curling against my side.

"I'm sorry," I whisper, putting my arm around him and kissing his forehead in what I hope is a comforting gesture. And what he does next surprises me beyond belief, and I'll never, ever forget it. He just puts on a brave face, smiles his one of a kind smile, and laughs.

"I think you're my angel, Brendon Urie."

Word Count: 1519