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Ryan flew up the stairs to his room, slamming the door behind him. He didn't pay attention to anything that anyone said to him after he returned from the hallway. He didn't pay attention to Spencer. He didn't pay attention to his drunk father sprawled on the couch. He was still in a daze.

An angry, confused daze.

Ryan slid his back down his door, knees covering his face. His arms curled around his legs. One tear after another fell, pouring and dripping down his cheeks. He always found crying somewhat calming; tear after tear falling freely and smoothly down to his chin, where they collected and fell below.

Ryan knew Brendon was religious. He didn't know that he believed in their bullshit. He couldn't believe he was ever friends with someone homophobic, but Ryan didn't know. He didn't know until Brendon was called gay. He didn't know until Brendon turned and walked away. He didn't know until his heart shattered into a million little pieces that couldn't be easily glued back together. He didn't know until today.

Ryan had stopped crying, but he was filled with anger. He needed to punch something. Or maybe even break something. He needed to let go of a short friendship. He needed a release from reality. The painful reality that one of his two friends was homophobic.

Ryan stood up and walked down the stairs, grabbing one of the beer bottles his father left lying around. He walked out in the cool winter air and threw the bottle into the middle of the street. It smashed into multiple pieces, just like his heart. How could he like someone who was so smart, but yet so stupid?

He walked back inside, leaving the broken glass on the asphalt. He wouldn't result in cutting himself. He told himself he isn't super broken about it. He knew Brendon for a little over three months, anyway.

He returned to his room and flopped down onto his bed. Ryan pulled out his phone and decided to text Brendon.

Ryan: Dear homophobic asshat,

Just because I can like people of the opposite sex doesn't mean I'm not a human being with rights. It doesn't mean people don't value me. It doesn't mean I should be treated any differently. If God doesn't like anyone who is LGBT, then why did He create them? Life is short. Find your true self, and when you've realized that your religion is wrong, talk to me.

Ryan saw him typing something to him, but the three dots in the speech bubble disappeared. He sighed and plugged his phone in to charge. Then he got into a pair of pajama pants and a t-shirt. Getting under the covers, he fell asleep, dreaming about what could have been.

A caring, understanding friendship.

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A/N: Bad chapter, woo.

I've also changed the cover of this again.

Check out obsessedwithdnp 's phanfiction, strawberries & cigarettes. (I'm helping out a bit with writing it as well.) It's a good fic, and I'm really excited for what's to come.

I am not going to rewrite You Can Set The World On Fire, but instead I'm writing another Ryden fic called hidden hearts. It should be up when I upload this chapter.

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