The Window Seat

The Window Seat.

I sat. I stared. I watched. I tried. Really I did. But it’s impossible to save someone who doesn’t want to be saved. And Ryan was content to barely exist. To drift day to day. Sitting on the window seat. Staring.

It was Pete’s fault. Maybe part of it was Brendon’s too, but it was mostly Pete’s. It was Pete who planted the seeds of doubt in Brendon’s mind, the selfishness in him wanting Ryan for himself. It was Brendon who feel for it too easily, leaving Ryan broken and vulnerable. For Pete. And when Pete got tired of his new toy, he too, left Ryan broken.

Ryan showed up at my place: drunk, crying, and bleeding. He couldn’t remember how he cut his forehead, thought maybe he had walked into a door. The state he was in, I didn’t doubt the possibility.

I cleaned the cut and let him change into some of my clothes. He fell asleep in my bed with me and when I woke up the next morning he was sitting on the window seat. He stayed there for a week.

“Spencer?” I was sitting in my room, reading some paperback Brendon had bought for me a few months before.

“Ry? What is it?”

He came and sat down beside me on the bed, taking the book and folding the page corner to mark it. He set it gently on the nightstand. “I need you to fuck me.” he said softly, but clearly.

I gave a weak laugh. “Ry, I’m not . . . like that.”

“I know.” he said seriously. “I know and I’m sorry, but I need you to fuck me. It can’t be anyone else.”

“Ryan, look, maybe Will—“

“No. It has to be you.” He looked at me for the first time since setting the book down. “Please, Spence.” His eyes were intense, probing, apologetic, and completely honest. The only other time in his life Ryan had looked at me like that we were kids and he was begging me to help him steal pictures of his mom.

I sighed. There really was no choice. Not with him looking at me like that. But that didn’t make it any less awkward. “You better, uh, suck me off or something to get me hard.”

Ryan moved quickly. It almost scared me considering how he had barely moved for the past seven days. He pushed me onto my back, hands on my shoulders. He kissed me, harder when I didn’t respond. It wasn’t until he grabbed me through my jeans and my mouth flew open in a gasp that I tentatively met his tongue with mine. It felt . . . weird. I pushed against his shoulders and he took the hint.

I stared at the ceiling while he undid my jeans, trying to pretend he was a girl. Short, blonde, cute, red lipstick, B cup, tiny waist. The exact opposite of—

“Fuck!” My arms flew backward, hands fisting into my pillow. I kept trying to pretend it was a girl, but I gave up. When you’re getting the best blowjob of your life it doesn’t really matter if it’s a guy or a girl or a fucking circus clown.

Then it was over and Ryan sat up, wiping at his mouth with the back of his hand. “Not like that. Fuck me now? Spence?”

I’d do anything at that point to come so I gave a weak nod. “H-How do you want—“

“On my back.” He was undressing and reaching in his pocket to pull out a bottle of lubricant. I sat up and tugged my shirt off, letting Ryan kiss me before he fell on his back, opening the bottle. I expected him to hold it out to me, but he slicked it over two of his fingers and pushed them into himself. He stared at me with almost empty eyes as he did it. Then he closed the bottle and tossed it onto the floor.

“Condom?” I whispered.

“I’m clean. I got checked out after Pete.” It’s said with a hollow voice and I almost lose my erection over it. “Push in slow.” he tells me, bringing his legs around my waist when I move between them.

Pushing into him is . . . weird, again. Ryan winces, but nods so I’ll keep going. It didn’t stop feeling weird until I was completely inside him and he tightened around me. I couldn’t help it. I moaned, cursed, thrusted.

The entire time he stared up at me with those eyes. Not so much cold, not so much lifeless. More like he was taking everything in. All of me and all of him. All that had passed and happened and fallen apart.

He wasn’t hard and when I tentatively put my hand between his legs, he shook his head. I knew then.

This wasn’t about sex at all. This wasn’t about me or him. It was about me and him. All we’d been through. A trust that never got broken. The only one in Ryan’s life.

Ryan tightened around me again and I knew it was time for it to be over. A handful of thrusts and I came hard. Harder than I ever have in my life. But it wasn’t good. It couldn’t be.

Ryan was still broken. I was still helpless. We both got dressed and Ryan kissed my forehead.

Then climbed back on the window seat.