All Was Golden

E I G H T

Ryan wasn't sure how he managed to find the energy to sleep after three straight days of it but, after leaving the living room with his food last night, he had managed it.

He didn't feel heavy today. He could move freely without exhaustion trying to consume him back into sleep. His eyelids weren't dropping down like it was their main purpose. He felt good. It actually made him smile.

He rose from his bed and looked around his room. He hadn't realized what a mess he had let it become. The glass of water he had spilled days before still sat on his carpet, surrounded by long stale goldfish. The wrapper from the previous night's dinner sat crumpled by his bedside. There were also scattered clothes across the floor.

"Really let myself go." He muttered to himself, rubbing the back of his neck. He sighed before beginning his clean-up. The clothes went to his bed to be sorted later. He then grabbed the cup. He filled it with the floor goldfish before grabbing the taco bell wrapper by his bed and setting it on top.

The room didn't sparkle like in cartoons, but it did make him feel better to see less on the floor. He nodded to himself before heading to his door and opening it. He could hear music coming from the living room, which made him pause.

Had he come off as rude to Patrick yesterday after... Who was mentioned? It felt like such a blur to look back on, Ryan couldn't be sure of his emotional state at the time.

He inhaled a short breath and moved down the hall. He wasn't sure what he would say to Patrick, but he knew he needed to say something. When he entered the living room, however, Patrick wasn't there. Ryan frowned to himself before turning to the kitchen. The light was on, so he made his way over. When he reached it, he was greeted by Pete rather than Patrick.

"Hey, what's up?" Pete danced over to the fridge, trying to keep in rhythm with the song that played from his phone. He tried.

"Oh, hey, Pete." Ryan gave a small wave. "I wasn't expecting to see you."

"You and me both." Pete laughed as he pulled open the fridge door. He ducked in for a moment before once again standing upright. "I'm glad I took an extra shift earlier in the week because I had to call out today. Patrick is sick."

"Is he okay?"

"I don't think dinner agreed with him." Pete frowned, "Or it might be that he didn't eat enough of it? I dunno. He's sleeping right now."

"Oh man..." Ryan looked down. He felt bad. Pete had said he didn't eat enough, had Ryan upset him that bad with his attitude shift after the mention of... "Hey, thank you for dinner though." Ryan shook his head as he looked up. He didn't want to get caught in that thought spiral. "How much do I owe you?"

Pete waved away his words. "Don't worry about it. How about you just get dinner next time?" He grinned, "I like my cheap meal drinks à la mode."

"So, a Wendy's frosty?" Ryan asked, crossing his arms as a smile crossed over his face.

Pete put a hand over his heart. "No wonder you're such a good friend."

Ryan's smile faultered a bit. He didn't feel like a good friend. A good friend wouldn't isolate themselves and keep others at an arms length.

"I'm gunna go check on 'Trick." Pete said after a moment, "If you want some pancakes, I made some extra. If not, would you throw them in the fridge?"

"Sure thing." Ryan nodded, stepping to the side so Pete could get through. Pete was halfway past him before Ryan spoke again. "Dude, what happened to you?"

In the light of the kitchen, Ryan hadn't noticed the multiple bruises and scratches that littered Pete's arms, neck, and a bit of his exposed chest under his worn tanktop. Now that he was close, however, they looked impossible to miss.

"Oh, that?" Pete shrugged. "I mean some are a bit personal." He winked, "But a lot of them I just kind of woke up with. Might have had one of those burning or bug nightmares I used to have back when I was a kid."

"Did you do that to yourself as a kid?" Ryan asked, eyes wide.

Pete nodded, looking towards the floor. "Yea. I had real vivid nightmares as a kid. It was like I could feel everything on me and my body reacted while I was stuck in my own head." He sighed. "I might need to go back to therapy..." His last words were more of a mumble to himself, "Usually I'd remember the dreams..."

"Jeez, Pete." Some of the marks were so dark, Ryan could practically feel them on his own skin. "I can understand getting a bit kinky, but those dreams might be back again."

Pete shrugged. "I grew out of them once, I can do it again."

Ryan nodded. He wasn't sure where Pete got the confidence but, when he set out to do something, he could do it. "Good luck."

Pete gave Ryan a short salute before stepping out from the kitchen. Ryan found himself alone once again. He sighed. He really needed to stop looking at things like that.

On the counter beside the fridge sat a plate of pancakes stacked three high. They were still warm when Ryan checked them. He grabbed a plate from the cabinet and slid one on with a fork. He then took the remaining two to the fridge.

Ryan shivered as the cool air of the fridge engulfed him for a brief moment before dissipating. His hand reached up for his neck, almost as if by reflex. His fingers were met by skin. Nothing more.

Ryan set the pancakes on the top shelf before stepping back from the fridge. He released the door to let it close on his own as he felt along his neck. Something was missing...

The cord.

The key.

The mere thought of its glowing eyes sent a shiver down Ryan's spine. Something felt different about it once he had seen both eyes emitting red light. It no longer brought the warmth and cool that coaxed him to wear it... But where had it gone?

He tried to think back to his last memory with it. He grabbed his plate with the pancake and made his way out of the kitchen and into the living room. He had been sitting on the couch with Patrick. It was right after Patrick had pointed out the red eyes...

It had fallen. It had hit the floor.

Ryan practically dropped his plate on the coffee table before getting down on his hands and knees to search. It had dropped. He could remember the cord releasing from around his wrist like unwilling tentacles. It had to be somewhere near the bottom of the couch or just under the coffee table.

He couldn't find it.

He pushed the couch completely back towards the wall, only finding some loose change, a sock, and a long forgotten gaming controller. Under the table there was only carpet.

Fear gripped Ryan as the key's disappearance sunk in. Something was wrong with it, and now it was gone. He had let it drop, and now it was gone. It was something that was left with His belongings... and now it was gone. Did it really hold any power? Or was Ryan just letting himself believe it did?

Suddenly, he wasn't very hungry for pancakes at all.