Beneath The Dirt | Ryden | Short Story Completed

Ben T Di

Brendon sat on the smaller of the two couches, facing the other two boys. Spencer retired to his room once the sun had started slowly coming up, shining its bright light through the dirty windows into the small cabin. It slowly filled the quiet cabin with light, giving it a sense of light, of which Brendon wasn't very grateful for. He still felt highly uncomfortable with having so little to cover himself. He's managed to learn a deal about his three captors so far. What he's found most apparent is that Spencer is definitely the in charge, because he calls the shots while the other two aren't very mature, and even now the two had wanted to play a game of questions with Brendon. Over, and over they ask him questions about himself, a rather boring topic, if you'd ask Brendon. Or any of Brendon's friends who had pushed him into some dark abyss which unknowingly led him here to this cabin.

Brendon imagines just how bad all of his old friends would feel if they had known what they had caused. He's sure they would be remorseful if they knew his current situation. Sure of it, even. Maybe. Well, they did cause this, wether or not they were sure of this being the outcome, they were quite rude to him. But it wasn't anything out of the ordinary, Brendon can't remember a time they were nice to him, actually. Maybe they weren't his friends.

"Is your name ...Jake?" Dallon asks, his knee bouncing, letting his foot gently tap the floor with every bounce, way too excited to just learn Brendon's name. "No," Brendon says just above a whisper. He doesn't usually speak a lot, so his voice feels hoarse and unpracticed.

"Dallon, shut the fuck up," Ryan sighs. "You can just tell us your name, kid,"Brendon is exceptionally glad that they have finally finished guessing. They've given him these weird, random names over and over and none of them even remotely belonged to Brendon, who couldn't wait for it to be over.

"It's Brendon," he mutters, which is the most he's spoken since he's arrived. Or been brought here, he supposes, it's not much of an arrival, after all. He wouldn't really hesitate to run, had it not been for the ever so annoying lack of clothing. Speaking of which, "Do you guys, um, have any clothes I could have?"

"I so told you he looked like a Brendon," Dallon interrupts before Ryan could answer, and Brendon could barely himself beginning to lose the fear he held, as it slowly was replaced with annoyance.

"No, you fucking didn't, that's bullshit!" Ryan quickly argued back, but he didn't completely disregard Brendon's question. "Um, I don't know, I'll go ask Spencer. It might take a while to wake him up, though." He doesn't specify as to why, although it's only because Spencer often sleeps with a knife in his hand, practically, and Ryan didn't want to be one of Spencer's next, immediate reflex victims.

As Ryan gets up to wake Spencer and search for some clothes for the boy, Dallon notices Brendon's shaking from the cold. "Oh, shit," he curses, as he moves to Brendon's couch. "You're cold," he remarks, shifting to face Brendon.

"Lay back on me," he states coldly, as more of a command than a suggestion and when Brendon hesitates, he notices Dallon's eyebrow slightly twitch. Dallon raises his arms expectantly, waiting for Brendon to lay back on him, like he said. Brendon quickly leans back into Dallon's arms, the barrier between his bare skin and the black hoodie Dallon's got on is only the coat Spencer lent him.

Brendon's more uncomfortable than he's been in awhile, he thinks, but of course he's readily proved wrong as Dallon holds him closer with his long arms. Dallon hums contently, and by now the light of the sun completely covers the living room they sit in. Entirely illuminated, Brendon only feels more exposed as he looks down at his bare chest and legs, and the old worn coat around his waist. Dallon's breathing slows down to a leisurely pace, and Brendon is scared he's sleeping until Ryan comes back, without Spencer, however he does have an old T-shirt and a pair of sweatpants with a hole in the knee for Brendon.

"Dallon, get up," he says, rolling his eyes. "Sorry," Ryan apologizes to Brendon. "He likes cuddling." Brendon's wide eyes are his only unmistakable response he offers to the two. Dallon grumbles obscenities at, except not quite at Ryan, as he sits up, lifting a bewildered Brendon off of him. "Cuddling?" Brendon asks, eyes still incredibly wide, as if he's searching for his answer that he just asked to hear.

Silly idea, he should open his ears not his eyes. If everyone were to hear instead of search, maybe the answers would be more apparent.

Ryan throws the couple articles of clothing he's found at Brendon, who's still staring. "What's wrong with the kid," Ryan asks when Brendon doesn't collect them immediately, now standing in front of the couch, where Brendon can definitely hear him. Brendon starts breathing harder, and Ryan swears he's about to start crying. As Ryan's bracing himself for tears Brendon sputters, "He cuddled me? T-That's what women and men do!"

"What?" asked Ryan who was only entirely confused with the situation at hand. "You care about that, but you don't care that we kidnapped you and killed someone?" Ryan rolls his eyes.

Upon being reminded that the three men were murderers, Brendon let out a painfully choked sob, and began to get up still holding onto the clothing he was given. He ran from the living room to the hallway, and Dallon and Ryan let him go. "What the hell is his problem?" Ryan mutters, to which Dallon replies, "Don't know. Don't care, all that much."

They fell asleep before the day had begun, and Brendon hadn't noticed the entire time, for he was alone crying in one of the unused rooms, while Spencer drifted peacefully back to sleep.