all you need is love :D

Ryan awoke to the sound of heavy rain pounding on his car. When he straightened up his posture, he felt kinks in his shoulders and on the side of his neck. He cursed under his breath and sighed.  Holding the bridge of his nose with his thumb and his middle finger, Ryan looked out the windshield and into the endless gloomy sky.  In his right pants pocket, he could feel his cell phone vibrating against his leg. He slid his hand down his chest and into his pocket. Pulling it out he stared at who was calling, no other than Brendon. Always him, why not someone else for once? To screen or not to screen. Finally deciding which to do on the last ring, he answered it.

                        “Hello?”

                        “Hey.”

                        “What do you want?” He asked a bit too bitterly, but he didn’t care, not anymore.

                        “Can I talk to you?”

                        Ryan stretched and yawned. “That’s what you’re doing now, isn’t it?”

                        “Look...About last night-“

                        “Forget about it. It’s pointless to stir up the past, so don’t bother.” Ryan said, cutting him off.

He closed his cell phone and placed his head carefully on the steering wheel. Sighing, thoughts started to erupt in his head. He wanted to be happy, but that was never in his options. Or when he thought that it was, it would erase itself from the list. He slowly opened the car door and looked around at the place where he and Brendon were last night and spotted his shirt. Not really giving a shit if it was still soaked, he walked over to where it was and pulled himself down to the ground to sit. The grass was cool and wet and Ryan was cold and lonely. He felt like he was at a cinema alone and even though it’s nice to have time for yourself, you’re still extremely lonely, because nobody’s there to poke fun at the movie with you. His cell phone started to vibrate in his hand, reminding him that he was still holding onto it. He sighed, maybe this time he needed to talk to Brendon, then again maybe not. He starred at the front screen and starred at the name until he zoned out and it stopped vibrating. Then it started again. Fuck it, he thought. There was no point in talking to Brendon, absolutely no point.  So he flipped it open and shut off his cell. Picking up his soaking wet shirt from the damp grass, he stood up slowly.  He headed towards his car and started to plan out his day. Get alcohol, maybe some illegal substances, go home and smoke it and get drunk.

                        Brendon sat on his burgundy leather couch that he had in his living room. His living room was rather big, considering his apartment size and looked luxurious, which is what he loved about it. The furniture was set up in the perfect position; everything seemed perfect in his apartment. He just happened to be the mess, the huge cloud of dust that occupied it. He looked at the piece of artwork that he had hanging over the plasma TV. He had called Ryan about ten times consecutively, he also knew that Ryan had shut off his cell but had continued to call just in case he had turned it back on. Although, by now he had given up. He couldn’t understand how much of a mess he was, and usually he could because he would’ve cleaned it up by now. He was never down, he was always up, always happy. Uppers, do they still make those? Or do I need to teleport back to the sixties and seventies? He closed his eyes and listened to absolutely nothing in particular. He thought now, he thought deep. First about the basics around him; it was July 24^th; the weather was finally sunny and consisted of no clouds at all. With this, Brendon stood up and walked slowly to his front door as if he was being led into a chamber; he held his head down and slid on the closest pair of shoes. He need to forget for once, instead of build, build, build. It was driving him insane, he had built so many stories of thoughts, some pointless others meaningful that he couldn’t handle it. Inside every office room there were billions of thoughts, they were all categorized. Or so he would like to think. He liked to think that his brain worked in a cordially fashion, and that everything, every thought, every action was organized. But unfortunately for him, things didn’t work that way. Opening the door of his apartment, he stepped out and shut the door slowly and closed it so if someone was to push their palm upon it, it would open. He always did this, no matter how many valuable things he had in there. Brendon slid his hands into his plain black hoodie pocket and headed directly for the stairs. He pushed himself against the door and ran for the steps and raced down them. Before he knew it, he was in main level, where the lobby was located. Pulling out his right hand for his pocket, he pushed the door open and jogged towards the doors that lead out into the world. Seeing as there were people walking through them, he didn’t have to hold anything, because they were doing it for him. When he stepped outside, he took in the humid Vegas air and headed towards the Starbucks that was closest to him. Looking up at the sky, he sighed evenly and contently. Clean up this mess Brendon.

                        --------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

It was around twelve thirty at night and Ryan was finally in his apartment; he had been for about fifteen. When he woke up this morning it was exactly eight thirty. After he had thought about his plans, he went out and bought the hardest liquor that he could find. He had stopped at various liquor stores, just so that it wouldn’t make him look like an alcoholic if he bought it all at one place. Then he had went to hit dealer and got half a pound of marijuana and snagged two sheets of LSD paper. When he got home he had placed all of this stuff in a backpack that he happened to have laying around his trunk, and carried it up to his apartment. When he had gotten up to the sofa, he was more than tempted to throw the backpack hard on the ground. But instead he had placed it beside him carefully, as if it was going to explode at any given moment.

 Sitting up in bed, Ryan started to feel a wave of nausea splash over him. He kept tasting his mouth just too see if it wasn’t the LSD playing tricks on him again. It had that moist taste that comes before throwing up. His stomach felt as if it was tearing itself apart. But it was probably only on account of all the hard liquor he had drunk. He hadn’t slept, not a wink. This was only because he was afraid to. He was afraid that if he slept, he wouldn’t wake up because he had drank so much everything around him was spinning and he couldn’t think straight. He had so many un-wanted substances inside his bloodstream he couldn’t even calculate them. Yet there were only three substances that he had decided to take; LSD, alcohol and marijuana. He kept his eyes closed because he couldn’t handle the severity of the alcohol or the bad trip that would’ve likely come his way. But he dared to anyway. He slid his legs off the edge of the bed like a rag doll and held onto the comforter with his right hand. Clasping onto it like a railing, he steadied himself and surprisingly remembered where he had left his cell phone hours before. Without falling, Ryan had managed to make it to the open door. In front of him he could see a field, and upon that field was a thick forest. He squinted and watched as the deer carefully fed at the tall grass that sprouted from the ground. He had fallen, but he hadn’t realized it. Now he was crawling along the floor in amongst the tall green grass. Maybe his trip wouldn’t be that bad after all. Everything now was turning animated, like a cartoon. Off in the distance he could hear music playing loudly. It was Bob Dylan. He followed the loud sound until he had come to the edge of the forest and saw Bob right in front of him. He was see through and was holding onto a cell phone that looked oddly familiar.

                        “Bob...Dylan?”

He nodded lightly and gestured the cell in front of Ryan’s face, encouraging him to answer it.

                        “It’s for you.”

Ryan had a smile the size of an ocean placed on his delicate skin and reached for the phone. His hand seemed to move in slow motion and the phone was in mid air. Bob had disappeared now. When Ryan looked down at his hand, he saw a praying mantis and threw it on the ground, until it had crawled away, and changed into a huge cell phone. He flipped it open and pressed it to his ear.

                        “Why hello there, who’s speaking.”

Ryan’s speech was slurred immensely and he was giggling off and on. He looked up at the sky and noticed a huge storm cell over himself, and only himself. He stared at it, glared at it, as if he was telling it to go away but it only got blacker.

                        “Ryan...?” Brendon seemed to yell into Ryan’s ear.

                        “Shh, don’t yell.” He whispered.

                        “Ryan, where are you?”

The tone in Brendon’s voice had changed from sadness to concern. He was worrying now.

                        “I’m in a field, there’s a cloud over me, everywhere else is blue, there’s a forest, and I’m in a cartoon. Come on and join me Brendon, where are you?” Ryan yelled into the line, as if he would find Brendon in the phone.

                        “I’m coming over okay? Don’t go out of your apartment.”

                        “What apartment? I’m in a-“

Ryan was cut off by a click. He tried to stand up but had to use the trunk of the redwood tree for support. There was a flash of light in the field in front of him that seemed to last and glow vibrant colors. He watched as it slowly zapped it’s was back up into the cloud and starred at the particles that it had left over. The lightning had struck the tree right beside the one he was leaning against. Ryan was frightened now, and with this he ran into the field trying to avoid the lightning, but tripped over a rock that had popped up from the ground. He fell hard and hit his temple on a smaller rock. Outside of this, he had tripped on a cushion and slammed his head against the corner of the coffee table. Ryan rolled around and tried to get up to avoid the lightning from hitting him.  By now he was running around and was jumping off various objects that had started to pop up from the ground like stepping stones. From outside his trip, his apartment now looked like world war two had gone through it, and there was so much noise that people had started to complain. By now though, Brendon was in the apartment complex lobby, talking to the guy who owned the joint, and was trying to get him out of calling the police. Sighing heavily, he pinched his temple. He couldn’t give up on Ryan.

                        “Look, I’ll go up there and calm him down, just please don’t call the police.”

                        “Fine, but if you don’t-“

Brendon walked off rather quickly without listening to what else the man had to say. He stood by the elevator doors and pushed the up button. It dinged and he stepped in, pressing buttons. Eighth floor. He had never memorized the room number, just how to get there. It sped up there quicker than usual, as if it knew that he was in a hurry. Brendon ran to Ryan’s room and barged open the door. When he saw the place, he was taken aback. All the furniture was tipped over, glass objects were shattered and strewn around the floor. Pictures were hanging by a thread on the wall, floor mats were pushed elsewhere and Ryan was nowhere to be found. At this, Brendon’s heart picked up and he started to get worried. When he stepped into the living room, he saw all of the hard liquor bottles and the bag of pot on the floor and then the paper. Picking it up from where it was wedged, he held it up closely to get a better look at it. He threw it down, not really caring about it and tore through Ryan’s apartment. He was beyond worrying now that he was almost crying.

                        “Ryan, Ryan where are you?” He called with that tone to his voice.

There was no response, just a slight whimper. Brendon noticed that the bathroom door was open ajar. He ran to it and carefully pushed it open. He spotted Ryan who was on the floor in the dark, leaning against the toilet. Within seconds, Brendon was kneeling down beside him and had him in his arms.

                        “Ryan fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck.” A tear graced his soft pale cheek. “How many blotters did you take?”

Ryan shook his head that was now buried in Brendon’s shoulder. He didn’t want to talk. He was so numb to everything around him that he couldn’t even feel Brendon’s warmth and arms around him. Pulling Ryan away from him, Brendon cupped his flushed face in his hands and gazed into his eyes. Maybe he did care about Ryan more than he wanted to admit.

                        “Ryan, you could’ve fucking killed yourself.” He whispered.

                        “What, what, what...would that m-m-m-m-matter?”

                        “Christ, I care about  you.”

Even through Ryan’s dilated pupils and his lifeless eyes, there was hope in them, something that lifted him. But he was too drunk, too high to give a shit about Brendon’s emotions. He just wanted to be happy and for everything to go away. Break on through to the other side.

                        “M-m-m.......my fucking ass you do Brendon. That-----that would be the last thing you would do.”

                        “I’m here, This is honesty, pure honesty. I know you might not see that now in your state, but this is honesty.”

Ryan was watching Brendon’s face intently as he was talking. Ryan was still tripping, and this was going to last a long while or so he thought. Brendon’s face had started to melt it seemed and his eyes were black. Ryan screamed and attempted standing up, but fell right back down into a pool of water. He flailed his arms in attempts to swim, but kept get dragged right back down to the ocean floor. Brendon starred at Ryan, he felt helpless because there was nothing he could do but wait for this to pass. And he knew Ryan couldn’t sleep, he didn’t want him to. Ryan had stopped moving and was lying on the tile floor, breathing peacefully. Brendon crawled over to him and shook him a little lightly. Ryan groaned as if he was in horrible pain and stayed there. Helping Ryan sit up, Brendon put him against the cabinets in the bathroom and sat beside him with his arms around him. He stroked Ryan’s hair. He didn’t notice how much his eyes were running like waterfalls. Brendon brought his face close to Ryan’s and pressed his lips gently against his. Ryan returned the favour drunkenly and ran his hands up Brendon’s upper body. Running his hands through Ryan’s hair, Brendon has felt something warm and sticky against his fingertips. He pulled away and reached to turn the light on, tilting Ryan’s head so he could get a full view of it. He noticed a gash right on his temple that was slightly bleeding. He kissed above from where it was and held him close.

                        “Ryan, I love you.” He spat out with honesty.

Ryan sat there in a daze and started to see normally now, no more trip. He felt surprised at the fact that he had taken so much that it had worn off so quick; not his intention, but he smiled faintly anyway.

                        “Bren-Brendon, the trip, the-it’s gone.”

                        Brendon smiled faintly. “That’s good, really, really good.”

Somehow managing to push Brendon onto the bathroom floor, he was now laying on top of him, with his right ear against Brendon’s heart. Brendon felt better now, knowing that the LSD had worn off. He smiled and stroked Ryan’s arm lightly. This is what he needed right here. He needed Ryan to be in his arms. This felt perfect to him.

                        “I love you too Brendon.”

                        This is the best part of the trip, the trip that I really like.