All Was Golden

T E N

Ryan had trashed his room. His bed was stripped down to his mattress while his bedding laid scattered around the room. Drawers were pulled out with clothes left unfolded and dangling from the sides.

All in an attempt to find the key.

All in vien.

Ryan sat on the floor in front of his bed. He had hoped his memory had been wrong. He had hoped the key had come off while he slept or that he had kept it in his room all along, but he still couldn't find it.

Anxiety gnawed at him. What if the key was dangerous? How could it have disappeared? What if that was the last unknown piece of Him he would hold?..

He gripped tufts of his hair as he pulled his knees close to his chest. Why was the key so important to keep locked away? Why wasn't Ryan good enough to be told what it was before discovering it abandoned in the closet? Why. Why. Why?

Ryan took a deep breath. He needed to stop, he knew he did. All this was doing was torturing himself. He took another deep breath, slowly exhaling. He didn't need to be consumed by questions of "why". He needed to stay focused on the present and stop slipping into the past.

It took several minutes, but he was able to release the grip he had on his hair and let his arms fall to his sides. He didn't feel better at all, but at least he could breathe.

Slowly, Ryan pushed himself up and looked around his room. He sighed before reaching for the sheets that sat crumpled in a ball not too far from where he sat. Destroying his room wasn't the answer. Panicking wasn't the answer. Ryan just didn't have any good answers.

When he finished reassembling his room, he was left with the box from the closet, once again. His hands curled into fists at his side as he looked at it. "Haven't you caused enough?" He spat at the box, as if it could provide him any kind of answer.

Frustrated by its presence, Ryan turned to his closet. The door was shut all but a crack, allowing for a slight peak into the darkness inside. He walked over to it and slid the door open. There was still a clear path from where Ryan had first dragged the box out.

"Perfect." Ryan turned to the box. He grabbed its sides and began sliding it back across the carpet. It fit perfectly back into the groove  of its first move. The groove guided it straight back to its original resting place. Once it was set, Ryan jumped back like he had been touching a bomb.

"I hope I never see or think about you again." His voice cracked as he said it. He grabbed the closet door and slid it hard. It banged against the wall, vibrating violently and sliding back just slightly.

Ryan swore, jumping back at the sound of it. He hadn't meant for it to slam that hard...

He reached out to close the gap between the door and the wall, but stopped. His hand was shaking. He curled his fingers into a fist and quickly brought his arm down to his side. He turned away from the closet, feeling his gut wrench.

He didn't want to think about it anymore.

He crossed his room and flung his bedroom door open. He practically jumped into the hallway while bringing his door to shut behind him. He felt like he could breathe in the new space. It was only once he was out of the room that he realized how closed in he had felt in his room. He stretched his arms out before taking a deep breath.

"Ry?"

Patrick's weak voice caught Ryan off guard. He jumped slightly as he turned to the end of the hall where his friend emerged.

The strawberry blonde looked exhausted. His hair was unkept, sticking out at odd angles. His skin was paler than usual, making him look almost ghostlike in the hallway's dim light. A red blanket was draped over his shoulders like a cape, making him look small as he held the sides together in front of his chest.

"Holy shit, Patrick." Ryan almost couldn't believe how drastically Patrick had shifted from healthy to this. "Are you okay?"

Patrick blinked tiredly. "Have you seen Pete?" He croaked, sounding on the verge of losing his voice.

"He was staying home to look after you." Ryan frowned, "Isn't he in there?"

"Oh..." Patrick turned his head to the side just slightly before looking back at Ryan. "Okay."

"Patrick?" Ryan stepped away from his room, closer to his friend. "If he's not there, maybe he just went out for medicine or something."

Patrick took a moment to respond. "Okay." He turned on his foot slowly, like a slowly cranked gear.

"Patrick." Ryan wanted to reach out, but stopped himself. Patrick didn't halt his turn. "I'm sorry for yesterday. I didn't mean to hurt you. It's just.." He bit his lip. "Hard." He finally settled on. There was so much more he wanted to say, but he didn't know how to properly express it.

Patrick stopped. He was about halfway turned back to his and Pete's room. There was a confusion in his tired eyes. "Yesterday?.." The mumbled words barely made it to Ryan's ears.

Ryan wanted to add more. He wanted to make his apology better. He wanted to say more, despite how it twisted his insides to think about it. He wanted to explain why he felt the way he did, so desperately.

"It's fine." Patrick croaked before turning away from Ryan.

Ryan leaned against the wall, with arms dangling at his sides, as Patrick shuffled back into his room and shut the door without another word.