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Cassandra nodded once at the supposed secret, pouring him more, “That’s supposed to be a secret?“ She scoffed jokingly, shaking her head, “C’mon, you made us get drunk whenever we used to fuck— high, even. I know you aren’t that much of a freak— you’re the more vanilla type.” She smiled easily and took a long swig herself, “When I say secret, I mean somethin’ real. Too real, y’know?“ She shrugged and leant back on her arm, looking up at the ceiling. “M’not as stupid as I look, Hunt— this bimbo’s smart and I know you.” Cassandra looked at him, eyes narrowed, “Secrets.“
She paused for a moment, just a moment, before taking another swig. “I&rs quo;ll join you,” she said, thinking, “Hm. First blowjob I ever gave I was nine.“ Cassandra nodded and scrunched up her nose, tipping the bottle, “Not fun, Hunt, not fun,” She smiled at him and took a sip— “C’mon, Ryan, you’re only making it harder on yourself— don’t make me guess everything, now. That just isn’t fair— my name ain’t Sherlock.“
Raising the bottle she let out a cheer, laying back on the coffee table and kicking her feet up in the air, looking at the toes that peeked from the socks. “I’m a genius, Ryan, a fucking genius— and you’re shit at hiding things, lemme tell you,” she looked at him pointedly, glancing at his already filled glass, filling it again to the brim, “Drink up, because I’m getting your secrets out whether you like it or not, babe.“
Of course Cassandra already knew that. She could read him and that kind of pissed him off. She was smart, too smart sometimes for Ryan. He tried to keep everything about his past – present, really – a secret, but Cassandra seems to be able to figure little things out. He figured when he’s high and drunk he gives off way more hints and he’s always both with her.
He got a chill when she said her secret. His mind went to all sorts of dark places and he took another big gulp, trying to drown the thoughts. She wanted secrets that were too real, but he didn’t know what to say without telling her too much. He started to pick at the label of the bottle out of nerves.
“Alright, fine. First handjob I got I was ten. That wasn’t fun either.” He could feel his face heat up and his heart pound in his ears. He was just glad this wasn’t a game of twenty questions or he’d be fucked. “How much longer are we going to do this? I told you two, that’s enough right?” He tired not to sound like he was begging. He just didn’t really want to talk anymore because he was getting drunker and he was going to say something he was going to regret.
“Whatever, whatever,” if Ryan wasn’t going to take care or help himself, then she couldn’t either. Cassandra hummed to herself, tapping her toes on nothing while she sang softly, eyes closed and hands cupped behind her head, a nice portrait of relaxation. She listened to Ryan leave the living room and rummage through the kitchen before jumping up and walking over to the stereo, beginning to let it blast, not caring that it was three in the morning. The sounds surrounded her and Shirley Manson’s familiar voice filled up the room. Cassandra moved around and sang softly to herself as she danced, swaying from side to side, her arms in the air and her body moving to the music, “Hey baby, can you bleed like me, oh c’mon baby, can you bleed like me…
” She murmured to herself, opening her eyes and seeing Ryan standing in the entrance of the living room.
“You’re supposed to come and join, Hunt,” she told him, grabbing at his wrist with her hand, the other grasping at the bottle he had brought. “You’re gunna drink and you’re gunna dance and you’re going to have the most delicious hangover tomorrow,“ she told him, yanking the bottle away and opening it, taking several long gulps— “But,” she amended, hopping up onto the coffee table and directing him to sit on the couch before her. “My rules.“ The bottle wavered at Cassandra’s side and she motioned for Ryan to show her the glasses— she poured some for him and ignored the second one— she’d have the bottle, as per usual.
"Tell me a secret with every drink,” she said, an almost evil smirk on her lips accompanying the words. Cassandra was a near-expert at figuring people out, and Ryan was no exception to that. He was simple, actually. She knew his past, knew him (she didn’t let herself become best friends with him without knowing at least the majority of his past,) and she just needed verification. “Shit I don’t know. Important shit. No backing out.“ She said, her expression serious, knocking back another two swallows of the liquor and clearing her throat. “For real.”
Ryan came back to blasting music and a dancing Cassandra. The sight coaxed a tiny smile out of him. The silly shit she did had that effect on him. She grabbed him and pulled him along with promises of a beautiful hangover. She made him sit on the couch while she sat on the table. She set a ridiculous rule that every time he drank, he had to tell her a secret. His stomach bottomed out for a second. His mind of course went to Lily, a secret he intended to take to his grave (not that he though she’d believe him anyway).
“Yeah I rather not.” He pushed the glass away. He knew if she got him drunk enough he was going to tell, and if he wasn’t pathetic enough, he would be after he started talking about it. She was serious about it but Ryan blatantly refused. “There’s just shit I don’t want to talk about.” He said. He knew Cassandra knew something was up. Something had to be up for him to be on so much drugs, but she didn’t need to know what it was.
He opened one of the bottles for himself and took a drink, but he didn’t say anything. He could feel Cassandra’s eyes on him but still nothing. After a few more swigs, he started to loosen up and so did his tongue. “Okay, fuck, fine. I don’t know. I’ve never ever had sex sober, like ever. My first time I was on acid. There, Happy?” He tired not to take an other drink because he knew that meant another secret.
Cassandra wasn’t surprised. She watched him calmly, lips in a tight line, not at all phased by his statements— everything was bound to come out sooner or later, and really, it was Ryan’s fault for not coming clean to his boyfriend in the first place. “Nice one. That should go in the Guinness World Record book— fastest break up: Ryan Hunt.“ There was a smile on her lips and when she finished her cigarette, she flicked it out of the window, moving over to the couch and flopping onto it, crossing her ankles on the armrest and looking to Ryan.
"And, of course, you’re high right now— pupils are tiny. You’re really bad at this, Hunt. Really bad.” Toeing off her shoes, she let her boots fall to the floor, further adjusting herself on the couch. “You owe me a million. When you win the lottery, I get half, easy as pie.“ Cassandra licked her lips and sat up, aching to move from place to place, from couch to chair to counter to— anything. She was itching from the inside out and she sighed, looking up at Ryan and shaking her head. “You’re a fucking idiot.”
Cassandra stood and walked over to him, wrapping her arms around him— Ryan was more… touchy-feely than she was. Hugs weren’t something she appreciated, not if they weren’t from the right people, but Ryan was a little different. She was more sensitive than she was, didn’t handle things as well (faggot), and wasn’t as tough as Cassandra was. But, that was alright. He’d seen her down in her own sort of filth and depression, she’d fucked him sober, and, okay, they were best friends, and Cassandra could make herself uncomfortable just so Ryan could be some sort of comfortable. “You’re a huge idiot— not allowed to do anything stupid. Like, ever sorta? Yeah,“ she told him, pulling away and holding him at arms’ length, looking up at Ryan and tip-toeing to mess with his hair. “So what the hell do you plan to do exactly? Rub salt in the fag’s wounds? Oooorrrrr…” Cassandra turned on her heel and she walked away from him, kicking things out of her way before turning once more, flopping onto the sofa. “Is it time to get drunk as fuck?“
Ryan rubbed his face and sighed again. At that point Cassandra was doing more bad then she was good. “Of course I’m high cuntbag. It’s either that or I fucking slit my wrists in the bathtub. I much rather be high.” He snapped at her. He didn’t care if she did cut out his tongue. He was on edge and he needed to let it out little by little or he was going to explode.
Cassandra jumping around the apartment was making him uneasy, but he didn’t say anything because she was doing him a big favor right now. She could jump around all she wanted. Unexpectedly, she walked up to him and hugged him. He tossed his cigarette and hugged her back. He kind of wished he could stay like that forever, just being hugged and not really having to face what just happened, but he didn’t want to hug her for too long. He knew she really didn’t like hugs too much and he didn’t want her to be uncomfortable for his sake. He was already asking way too much of her.
Again she told him he wasn’t allowed to do anything stupid. He liked hearing that from Cassandra. He was sort of a reassurance that she really did care since she didn’t show it very often. He really loved Cassandra, a whole lot. She was his best friend, but he was sure he wasn’t hers. She has Eoin. He was sure it wouldn’t be too much of a loss if he died. But she said not to do anything stupid. She cared, if only a bit.
She ruffled his hair and went back to the couch. She said the magic words: drunk as fuck “Thought you’d never ask.” He said. He walked to the kitchen, went into one of the lower cabinets and pulled out the hard liquor. He grabbed a few glasses although he knew he and Cassandra would most likely be drinking straight from the bottle. It tasted better that way. Drank more at one time and got drunker quicker. The drugs just weren’t hazing him enough to forget what just happened. He needed to get drink as fuck as Cassandra so poetically put it.
Cassanda flicked away the cigarette, arching her eyebrows and mouthing ‘Touchy,’ as she slipped off of the cab and stepped on the cigarette. “Y’done bein’ a cunt? I didn’t have to come, y’know,“ she said, putting her hands deep in her pockets and uniformly following Ryan up to his apartment. She looked around and made a face at the hallways and other homes, scrunching up her nose and thinking up her own obnoxious comments— the fucker had a place in Manhattan. This was as close as Cassandra would ever be to having even a decent place to call home.
She kicked the door closed and leant against it, arms crossed, looking at Ryan expectantly. Cassandra was thanked and she shrugged, pushing hersel f off of the wall, and walking further into the apartment, towards the windows on the far side of the living room. “Yeah, yeah,” she muttered, sitting on the sill and pausing before throwing the windows open, letting in the air. “So what the hell did you do with your faggot boyfriend this time?“ Cassandra pursed her lips and cocked her head to the side, looking right at Ryan.
"M’not that into you snapping at me, Hunt. Do it again, and I’m ripping your tongue out— don’t fuck with me, I haven’t eaten in a decent amount of time, yeah?” She narrowed her eyes at him before shfiting her gaze, digging through her (okay, Aiden’s), jacket’s pockets, grabbing the box of cigarettes and lighting one up and taking a drag, “Spill, Hunt.“ Cassandra exhaled softly, glancing towards Ryan with her eyebrows arched.
Ryan sighed deeply. He really didn’t want to talk about it, but he couldn’t just leave Cassandra without an explanation. He thought about stalling, asking if she wanted something to eat since she said she hadn’t eaten, but he knew that wouldn’t work. He did however, ask for a cigarette. He borrowed her lighter and lit up. He took a deep drag and ended up coughing a bit. It had been a while but he missed the sweet burn in his throat and lungs.
He looked up at her and she still had that look. She wanted to know. He took another drag. “Well, He found out about the drugs. The selling, the taking. All of it.” The words came out easier then he thought they would. The drugs in his system were working pretty well, and besides, he did drink a bit and he was finally having a cigarette. All of that combined helped him calm down a bit. “And when he asked me about them, I basically told him to go fuck himself.” He chuckled painfully, “Love of my life and I tell him to g o fuck himself.” He coughed again to hide him getting choked up.
His head was still swimming. He actually told Tony to go fuck himself (not exactly but that was the gist of it). It all seemed so surreal, like he was going to wake up and everything would be back to normal. “Anyway, thanks again for coming. I needed you here so I wouldn’t do anything stupid.” He looked down at the cigarette burning in his hand, feeling a bit of shame for having to admit something like that. “I owe you one.”
Cassandra slipped her phone into her back pocket, along with her wallet and her key, right after she locked the door. Aiden should’ve been asleep, and Eoin was no where near her to even wonder what the hell she was doing out at three in the god damn morning— she didn’t even know what the hell she was doing out at three in the god damn morning.
It being a Saturday night, there were still cabs wandering the streets. She flagged one down and tumbled into it, kicking up her feet on the passenger seat, muttering the address to the driver, letting herself fall half asleep on the way there— when they were near, she texted Ryan to come down, ready with the payment.
She lit up a cigarette when she arrived and told the man to wait a second, Cassandra climbing out of the vehic le and sitting on the hood, taking a long drag as she watched the faux-redhead clamor down the stairs— “Lookin’ like a hot mess there, Hunt.“ She smirked, winking at him.
Once he hung up with Cassandra, Ryan popped a few more pills to calm himself down. Maybe he’d be able to tell her what actually happened without being a sobbing mess. Honestly, Ryan was already thinking of ten ways to hurt himself but Cassandra had told him not to. She said not to do anything stupid so he wouldn’t. She said she loved him. Fuck. Ryan couldn’t handle all of this. He wanted to just jump out his fucking window, but Cassandra loved him. At least one person cared. He ended up washing his face like she said.
She texted him and he grabbed some cash and made his way down. He gave her a look at the hot mess comment. He didn’t have the energy to slap her arm or anything like that. He hardl y had the energy to live at that point.
“No shit, Sherlock. Want a fucking cookie for pointing out the obvious? If you just had the night I did, you’d look like shit too.” He handed the money to the cab driver, and headed back up stairs knowing Cassandra was following. They got up stairs and Ryan kicked off his shoes, the sight of the living room still making him sick.
“Thanks for coming so late and shit.” The smell of nicotine was getting to him. He hadn’t smoked since he met back up with Tony, not wanting him to know, but he knew everything now. He fucking knew everything. Cigarettes couldn’t make Hell hotter.
Tony simply stared. He thought that he could physically, really feel his heart breaking as Ryan spoke the words, as Ryan more or less ended whatever it was that existed between them. His chest and stomach felt hollow as the words washed over him and cleansed him of this whole situation, only dirtying and sullying him completely in the process. “I—" He couldn’t come up with anything, he shut his lips tight as he took a breath and gathered up his things. “Fine.“
He threw his things into his messenger bag and put on his sneakers— it’d be a nice walk to NYU, fucking whatever, he thought. “Fine, Ry. Alright, then.” Tony’s voice was cold and although he felt as if he was going through up, he kept his face still as stone, unwilling to let any emotion shine through. “Wanna know something? I thought we’d work this time around. Thought we’d. Well. Fuck me,“ he muttered, shaking his head in disappointment and disbelief, a huff of a sarcastic laugh on his lips.
Soon enough, he stood in the doorway. Tony looked back at Ryan with a sarcastic smile, bowing at him and shaking his hair out, “Call me when the Ryan I’m in love with is back, yeah? Kinda miss him,” he told him bitterly, a caustic chuckle leaving him as he turned away and slammed the door behind him, going down the stairs and out to the streets, making his way towards the nearest subway station where hopefully the last train to NYU hadn’t departed yet.
Ryan just stood at the closed door, mouth gaped open. Tony’s words ringing in his ear. The Ryan he’s in love with. In love with. He is in love with Ryan.
“H-holy fuck.” He said o ut loud to no one, slumped to the floor, face in knees and started to sob like he hadn’t sobbed in a long time. He made noises he didn’t think he’d make anymore after he passed the age of 12. The pain that shot through Ryan was horrifying. His breathing was uneven and fast almost to the point of hyperventilation. His chest hurt and he was almost certain he was having a heart attack.
Get up! Get the fuck up off the floor you useless piece of shit! God, no wonder he hates you. No wonder everyone hates you. You’re fucking useless and pitiful and the worst fuck up this universe has ever seen.
He slowly uncurled his body and stood up, all muscles aching. He shuffled over to the Kitchen and with trembling hands took out a couple of Xanax and dry swallowed them. They weren’t going to help much, Ryan knew. His pain was beyond Xanax, maybe even beyond Oxycodone. There was something he could do to calm himsel f down, but fuck if he was going back down that road. He couldn’t.
After the medication set in a bit, still a sobbing mess, he picked up the phone and called Cassandra.
Tony laughed, shaking his head, a wide, almost appalled, smile on his face. “Really, Ry? Really?“ He shook his head and scoffed, throwing his head back. “That’s what you wanna get into, man? Wow, T’s such a buzzkill, T’s such a dick, looking through your things—” he pushed himself off of the wall, staring at Ryan. “Is that really what you wanna do?“ Tony shook his head, “Yeah, Ry, I looked through your shit and found all your drugs. You high right now?” He was serious with the question, but he didn’t know if he wanted an answer or not.
Silence fell between them and Tony felt himself cringe at it. He leant against the wall again, looking away from Ryan, not being able to face him for too long. Ryan lied to him, he’d been lying to him for years, probably, and although maybe Tony was never 100% honest 100% of the time, he tried to be. He hated keeping information hidden, friendships— relationships were built on trust, and that was something that Ryan obviously didn’t want.
“Just tell me the truth, just stop avoiding it, stop lying to me, just— tell me the truth.” His voice had a pleading tone, it was strained, and he was desperate. Tony’s throat was tight with tears and he could feel the build up in his eyes. This— this was the boy he loved, his best friend above all else, and him lying only broke Tony’s heart. “The truth, Ry. Tell me— please, fuck, just tell me the god damn truth? Just once tell me the truth, stop pushing me away.“
Ryan stayed seated, his leg bouncing up and down. He didn’t know what to do or what to say. God he wanted to tell Tony everything but the words wouldn’t come out. When he tired to say one thing, his drug soaked brain wouldn’t let him.
He looked up at Tony, the man he loved, begging for the truth. Ryan was shaking, trying to hold everything in. He didn’t want to cry even though his eyes were burning. He opened his mouth and instead of the explanation he wanted to say something much worse came out.
“You know what Tony; it’s none of your fucking business what I do! I’m not obligated to tell you shit, alright?” God did he regret the words as they came out, but he couldn’t take them back or stop them. He already fucked up their relationship for the second time, he might as well put a bow on the shit package. “I can take as many drugs as I want and you can’t say shit. It’s my body not you’re so get the fuck off my back.” He finally stood up and faced a way from Tony. He couldn’t look at him, the guilt was just too much.