Things just weren't quite the same after Spencer's passing, and Brendon knew it was unlikely that life would ever return to the way it was before.
Death was an uncommon subject to him. He'd never experienced losing a family member, or even a friend. He'd lived a normal life, free of the cold, terrifying grasp of Death, but now, even though he was still alive, he couldn't ignore the chilling feeling of Death's presence creeping up his spine.
Ryan wasn't the same, and Brendon didn't expect him to be. The poor kid could barely afford a casket, let alone a whole funeral ceremony for his father. He was broken, completely torn down and unable to be built back up again. Brendon despised seeing him so full of despair, but he didn't know what to do.
So two days after Spencer's passing, Brendon trekked down to the funeral home and spent the rest of his money to get Ryan's father cremated. It was the least he could've done.
Now, however, it was the very last day to pay off The Spotted Cat's debt, and Brendon hadn't received a single word from Jon or the loan sharks. Brendon hoped Jon had just taken care of it and paid the bank, but surely he would've heard, right? He hadn't heard anything at all, and it was beginning to make him nervous. In just a few short hours, The Spotted Cat would close its doors forever, and that was an easy thing to prevent. Brendon had won the poker game. The loan sharks had promised to pay off the debt, yet nothing had changed. The thought of him and Jon risking their safety and doing all that hard work for nothing made him sick.
He knew he never should've trusted those disgusting loan sharks.
He hadn't talked to Ryan about the night of the storm either, especially not after Brendon's fight with Earl. Sometimes his knuckles still ached at the memory of it, but he didn't regret it one bit. Earl had disrespected Ryan. He had hurt him, beat him, raped him. If Jon or the roaring of the ambulance hadn't stopped him, Brendon was certain he would've kept punching until he tore off all the skin on his fists.
He still wasn't sure what had come over him, too. He'd never felt such an intense and burning anger before in his life, nor had he ever been involved in a fight like that. There was a first time for everything, though, right? He had won his first poker game with none other than a royal flush, and he had almost beaten Earl's fat face to a bloody pulp. Good memories.
On the afternoon of the final dreadful day, Brendon sat alone at the kitchen table, the silence fueling his racing thoughts. There was nothing left for him to do, yet just sitting in his apartment and waiting for the official notice of foreclosure to be posted was agonizing. Why hadn't the loan sharks paid the debt like they'd promised? He'd won the poker game fair and square. They were wasting precious time, because Brendon wasn't sure if the bank would accept late payments. Time was ticking, and with every passing second, Brendon's patience was stripped away more and more. Soon enough, he was sure there would be nothing left.
Brendon wasn't even aware he was gnawing on his fingernails until he heard a soft voice coming from the doorway.
"Keep it up and ya won't have any nails left."
Ryan leaned against the doorframe, his hands stuffed in his pockets and a fragile half-smile adorning his face. He looked exhausted, drained of what little life he had left. Brendon wasn't even sure he knew the last time the poor kid had slept.
Still, he tried to steady his beating heart and retracted his hands. "It's a bad habit," he remarked, mustering up a small smile of his own.
Ryan nodded, pulling himself away from the doorframe to join Brendon at the table. His chair creaked in the stifling silence.
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Mad as Jazzmen |1930s Ryden AU| ✔️
Fanfiction"It don't mean a thing if it ain't got that swing." * * * The Great Depression was, by far, one of the worst tragedies in the history of the world. People drowned in debt. Banks were ruined. The stock market was broken and unreliable. But one...
