*yeets this into my closet*

yall i went shopping yesterday and found the cutest dress but it was too big for me. i cried.

Also: the mood for this chapter is disconnecting your spirit at the mention of anything you dont understand

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"You're crying again." Ryan sighs to himself at his words, watching as Bryce lifts his head from his desk besides Ryan.

Bryce laughs weakly, wiping his tears with his jacket sleeve. "Yeah. Sorry. I was just.. I was just thinking about the game I played last night."

"What game?" Ryan is intrigued.

He watches as Bryce flushes and begins to fidget with his pen. "Uh... Telltale. The Walking Dead. I told myself I'd play it all at once, but I got halfway through the second season before I had to stop. The, um, the flashback to Lee on the train was what broke me."

Ryan nods silently. He watches Bryce try to do his homework, writing equations in the corner of his paper. It's kinda sad, actually.

It is here that Ryan realizes that for all he's tried to help Bryce and Jonathan, he doesn't actually know them all that well compared to Luke. But the thing is, he can't just bomb Bryce with stupid personal questions out of nowhere.

He thinks back to what happened last night. Jonathan called him, after nearly three weeks with no contact. He hasn't been at school (nor has Evan) and he hasn't been answering texts, either...

Ryan's phone vibrates in his pocket, interrupting his train of thought. He pulls it out and checks it.

Mom (3)

Ryan?

Ryan.

Are you busy?

Ryan makes a face. Doesn't being at school automatically list one off as being busy?  Is this some kind of trick question? He doesn't know how to respond to this. Will he get yelled at if he says no for not paying attention to class, or is it urgent?

He thinks it over for a moment before sending back a simple "no, not really. Just some worksheets."

The response is almost immediate.

Alright. I need to talk with you... is it okay if I pull you out early?

Ryan frowns at this. It is, in fact, far from okay. He has a single midterm in his math class, and he'll be damned if he misses math with Ms. Diep. She's far too sweet for Ryan to want to miss out on. Ms. Diep had promised them an easy, twenty question test too, and then they would do some DIY projects to help her prepare for her sister's baby shower this Saturday.

(Ryan's willing to bet that the projects will be harder than the test- he's learned a lot about his math teacher, and a lot more can be inferred from the things she does. Like, suddenly becoming single and not married? Why does nobody question the sudden disappearance of her husband? Where does she get the money to do these projects of hers?)

(She's definitely not human. And possibly a murderer.)

He struggles a little to explain to his mom that, yes, it is currently testing time, and no, he is not testing because his history teacher is really lazy and didn't bother making an actual test.

It takes a bit of convincing (a lot of convincing), but Ryan successfully talks his mother into picking him up after school. And you know what? That's a pretty big accomplishment. His mom is very stubborn.

That's whatever, though. He'll just deal with it when the time comes. For now, he plans to focus on cute baby shower decorations.

Those are always fun to do, right?

--

Ryan wants to cry. He's pretty sure he bombed his math test, and he broke the cute wooden block he had been told to paint. Not to mention he got a splinter in his thumb and taking it out had hurt like a bitch.

Bryce is still here with him, engrossed in his Instagram feed, probably. All Ryan can see is furious scrolling and double-tapping.

"Uh... have you ever met my mom, Bryce?"

Bryce glances up, shaking his head. "No, why do you ask?"

"She wants to pick me up," Ryan explains. He checks the time out of habit, then quickly scans the street in front of them. "But since Luke and I were your ride..."

Thankfully, Bryce picks up on Ryan's fears very quickly. "Oh. Do you think she'll drop me off?"

"Probably? I think my bigger problem is whether she likes you or not. She's... very opinionated. I think that's what happens when you're a big, self-made businesswoman. She was a lot softer when she first came, but I guess she's going back to normal now that she's back in her business stuff."

Bryce's eyes light up. "Oh, really? Do you think she's met my dad?"

"I don't know. I just know that she'll probably interrogate the fuck out of you," Ryan admits. He sighs. "You know, after seven years of not seeing her, she's a lot more harsh than I remembered."

He receives a small pat on the back and a sympathetic smile from Bryce. "It's okay. I understand."

A white car pulls up, bright and shiny like it's brand new. That's his mom.

Ryan grabs Bryce by the sleeve and gently tugs him along, pulling him into the backseat of the car with him. There's no way Ryan's sitting next to his mom if he can use Bryce as an excuse to sit in the back.

"Oh, Ryan. I didn't know you'd be bringing someone along," she says, and fuck Ryan can already smell the disdain rolling off of her.

Bryce, bless this boy's oblivious soul, is too distracted by Instagram to pay attention to the tone of her voice. He beams brightly and waves. "Hi! I'm Bryce!"

"Luke drove us both to school," Ryan explains. "I was hoping you could take him back, since he doesn't have a ride."

"Can't he drive himself?" She asks as if Bryce isn't here.  Ryan is quickly remembering why he spends so much time at Luke's house.

Bryce shakes his head, his phone being set down in his lap. "No, I'm too young to get my permit. Plus nobody's taught me, so I can't just drive, you know?"

Ryan balks at the new information. "Wait, you're fifteen? I thought- I thought..."

"Yeah," Bryce huffs. "I turn sixteen next month though. What does it matter?"

"You're the only fifteen year old I know that has such a dramatic love life," Ryan grumbles. (Seriously, Bryce is on some next-level shit.)

Ryan's mom shamelessly forces herself back into the conversation. "What's this about love?"

"Nothing important," Ryan says quickly. He really doesn't want to have this conversation with his mom. Especially not in front of Bryce.

"I sure hope it isn't. You should be focusing on school, not making out with some girl in the middle of class."

Ryan flinches. Oof. Right where it hurts.

Like a dumbass, he continues talking. "W-Well... actually, you see..."  How does he say this out loud? Ryan has to take a moment to think this over. Would it be easier to just not? No, it wouldn't, because he and Luke are probably gonna get married someday.

He turns to Bryce for help, whispering a small 'please' under his breath. Bryce is always nice and happy, surely he can sugarcoat the inevitable, right?

Bryce catches on. He puts on his thinking face, before he looks up with a determined look in his eyes. Reaching over, Bryce gently rubs Ryan's shoulder as he speaks.

"Ryan isn't making out with girls."

His mom begins to speak. "That's-"

"He doesn't want to make out with girls."

"What?"

"Because he likes boys."

(Ryan is sure he just felt his soul leave his body. Really. He's astral projecting into the seventh dimension where he's in a funky pair of glasses and being guided around labyrinths by a teddy bear.)

His mom sputters, clearly taken aback by Bryce's blunt explanation. Ryan can see her squeeze the wheel, her knuckles white.

Ryan decides now is a good time to melt into the seat. He sinks down, covering his face and mentally screaming into the void.

"I- I beg your pardon?" His mother is stunned.

Bryce, however, doesn't miss a fucking blink's worth of time with responding. "Then beg."

(Oh my god oh my god oh my fucking god on a dick. This is how he dies. Whiplash. Heart attacks. Suffocation. He's gonna perish right here and now. Why can't he just... what, die? Right here. He doesn't feel so good.)

Ryan's mom gives him a wary look. He knows she's not letting go of this one so easily. But then again, he did ask Bryce to help.

Ryan laughs nervously. This is not how he planned on coming out to his semi-estranged mother. In fact, he hadn't really planned on coming out at all in the first place. Ironic, isn't it?

He squeezes his eyes shut. Maybe if he closes his eyes hard enough, Ryan will whisk himself away to Luke's house where he can burrow into the bed and stay there for the next twenty years.

The car pulls into the driveway of Ryan's home. It doesn't really feel like home (it hasn't been his home either, not for a while at this point), but it is (technically) his.

He watches his mother get out of the car, an emotionless expression on her face. Ryan knows he's not getting out of this one without humiliating himself like an idiot.

Bryce offers a supportive smile. "It's gonna be okay. She's not mad, I can tell. Trust me! I've got your back, buddy."

Ryan can only hope Bryce is right.

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