The moon
by M. F. Luder
Ever since I've been with you
You hold me up all the time I'm falling down
- Honey and the Moon. Joseph Arthur.You walk down the stairs and toward the kitchen. It takes you a moment to realize someone's in the den and when you turn around, you see him sitting there, arms wrapped around himself as his eyes fall on the TV and he looks like he's dying inside.
You hurt for him. You don't know how you can, but you do. You know what it is to be left behind, to hurt so much for this person you love but you can't have. You understand that, and he was there for you, with you, every step of the way. He listened to you babble about Summer, about how much you missed her.
Only, in this case, Ryan doesn't babble. He sulks. He sits at the table, pushing his food around. He doesn't wake up until after ten, even though that's totally not his nature. He doesn't play Nintendo with you anymore.
He just sits there, like right now. He sits there and it makes you want to do something.
Your heart grips in your chest as you remember what it was like to find that letter on the bed the first day, waiting for you to open it. You didn't want to, but you had to. And your heart half died in that moment.
It was better if you didn't tell your dad. You're certain he would have had a heart attack. Second letter found in only six months. He would have died.
Instead, you did the only thing you could think of. You took off. Grabbed the keys and went after him, like you would do once again. Like he would have done during the summer if you hadn't pretended not to give a rat's ass about his future.
Sighing, you push yourself off the wall and close the space to the den. He doesn't even look up, though you're certain he must have heard you.
It's sad, the way he's leaning back against the couch, arms around his legs. Your parents aren't home, that's probably why he's indulging in some public brooding. You don't say anything, you only sit by his side, your shoulder bumping into his as you push your legs to bend, folding your arms over them.
He turns to look at you after a minute, the longest minute you ever remember. He tries to offer you a sad smile but he fails. You can see the corner of his lips trembling, and the edges of his eyes are shining.
Your heart breaks all over again.
"Ryan..." You say, but then there's nothing left to say, not really. He shakes his head and you do what he's silently asking. You keep quiet.
You sit there, with him. Sometime later, as your left leg is starting to fall asleep, he leans against your shoulder and it feels natural for you to place your arm around his shoulders. He leans into the touch even more, his head down.
You bite down on your lower lip not to break the silence you so desperately want broken. You squeeze his shoulder and when you can't feel your leg anymore, he lets out a soft sigh that sounds like a broken whimper.
It's not until the third time that you're the first one in the kitchen that you make your way out to the pool house. Ryan's still lying down, the covers up and over his face, and you realize that you've missed this.
Not his pain, of course, but this. This feeling of belonging that seems to fit so perfectly between the two of you. You know what to do, what to do for him and what he needs, though you know you can't give it to him.
But you try anyway. And you're there for him, and you want that. You want to be there for him to soften the fall.
You've given up on pushing up the curtains and pulling away the covers. You've given up on trying to cheer him up because you know nothing you do will ever be able to. He misses her, and you understand. Out of all the people, you understand the most.
The first time, he ended up telling you to shut up. The second time he didn't even look up from the covers. This time, you know what to do. You do, because your heart and your soul tell you what needs to be done.
You close the door after yourself, softly, not making any noise. You're pretty sure he's expecting you to bother him to no end. But you know better this time.
This time, you only push back the covers and you feel him holding his end tightly. Good, do that, you think.
You toe off your shoes and climb into the bed with him, pushing the covers over your head as well. It feels like those times you used to play fortress and hide under your own covers. But back then, you didn't have Private Ryan to keep you company, to be there with you. This time, you do.
He turns in the bed, lifting the covers enough so that there's room in between them and his face. They are clear enough that they let some light get through the linens. He frowns, looking at you.
You smile. I'm here, you want to say. I'm here, you're not alone. I'm here, for you. You don't have to suffer alone, dude, I'm here. But you don't.
He gives you another trembling smile and you nod. He relaxes, closing his eyes and sighing. He lets the covers fall down on both your faces after a moment. You close your eyes as well. You had only woken up about half an hour ago, but you can take a nap. For him, you'll do so.
You feel him shiver at some point during the morning nap and you scoot closer to him. He shivers again, and you wonder if he's crying. He's silent, not a whisper coming from him, so you can't know for sure. But still, you wonder and worry, and do the only thing you know to do when he's hurting.
You close the distance between the two of you and you put your arms around him. He stiffens and you wonder if he'll push you away. He doesn't. It doesn't take long for him to relax against your touch. Moments after that, he rests his head against your shoulder and you both fall asleep.
It's been almost two weeks and it still feels like he's breaking all over again. You've run out of things to do, out of ways to reach out to him. Days keep on ticking by and you wonder if maybe Lindsey was the one and that's why Ryan is having such a hard time.
"I thought people wouldn't leave anymore."
It hurt you when you heard that. It killed you, you think, because it was like he was speaking to you. You left me as well. You want to pretend that you didn't only because you didn't leave me a letter, but you did. You know you did.
You can almost hear him say, or hear him not say, and he's right. You did. Maybe that's why it hurts this bad, because this Lindsey thing, is like seeing Ryan's reaction after you left. You weren't there then, but you're here now, and if Ryan was half as hurt as he is now, you think you might have broken him as well.
You walk downstairs from your bedroom and make your way out toward the pool house. Maybe tonight he'll feel better. Maybe tonight you'll be able to coax him into playing Nintendo with you, if only to see if you can make him laugh. You miss his laughter. You miss his smile and his eyes filled with something that isn't despair.
Maybe it is that you just miss him.
Halfway to the pool house, you notice the lights are off. Nothing new these days, of course, but you feel like something is wrong. Something doesn't sit right and when you turn around, you sigh.
He's sitting in the middle of the grass, arms around himself and cheek resting on his forearm. How is it possible that he looks this young, this fragile, when you know for a fact that he's stronger than you? You don't know. You don't want to know.
You make your way toward him. He doesn't look at you and you're not surprised. You sit by his side and try to squelch the desire to place your arm around his shoulders. You hear him sigh and breathe deeply, harshly, and each sound makes you worry even more, makes you want to hug and protect him.
After another minute, you give into the desire and you place your arm around him. He leans into the touch, not saying anything.
The moon shines brightly down on the two of you and there's enough light to see his eyes shining once again.
"Ryan," you say, almost like a whisper. "I'm sorry, dude."
He shakes his head. Don't say anything, he seems to tell you. Please, just don't say anything.
But this time, you have to. "I'm sorry."
He sighs, nods and leans against you, his body even heavier. You want to push away all his sorrows. You want to look into his eyes and tell him what you didn't tell him that day, that first morning or the day after.
You sigh and wonder if late really is better than never. With your free hand, you touch his cheek and pull his chin upwards. He's forced to look at you and you can see sorrow in blue eyes that used to be touched with life and love.
"I'm sorry," you say again. "She left," you say and he grimaces at the admission. "She left," you whisper, leaning closer to him, "but I won't. I never... I would never leave you, Ryan. I swear."
He breathes out through barely parted lips before nodding. "I know," he whispers back. "I know."
You smile, trying to convince him that he's loved, that he's cared for. It takes him a moment and his smile is hesitant, but it's there, and that's enough for you.
You feel your heart easing, the pain lessening and before you can think about what you're doing, you lean forward and capture his lips with yours. You open your eyes wide and he's looking back you, asking, and as an answer, you put pressure on his lips and he gives in for you.
You kiss him like you've never kissed a girl before. You kiss him like you mean it. You kiss him like you love him, and you know that he knows this when he kisses back with the same intensity. When his hand moves to touch your cheek, you know he's kissing you like he loves you too.
After this, after the soft kiss given out during the night, the pain is gone. The next morning, Ryan looks like his old self, if only darker around the edges. Your mom and dad wonder what happened to make him let go. You say nothing.
That night, in the darkness of the pool house, you lay down together, limbs intertwined, and you kiss him for the love you have for him and he kisses you back.
Joseph Arthur - "Honey and the Moon"
Finished: April 27th, 2005.