Ryden Oneshots 【2】

Black and White Piano Keys [2]

*

Three days later, Ryan had nothing. He was sitting in front of the library, near the fountain in the grass courtyard, and his notebook page was a mess of scribbles and cross-outs.

I told him I loved him and he said him too 
Then he left me, disappeared into blue

Death is a messenger, silent and low,
Brings itself to those down below

Ryan was pretty sure he sucked at rhyming and anything to do with writing songs. He was going to kill Spencer the next chance he had for ever suggesting this. At the rate he was going, he might have one song done by the end of the semester, if he was lucky…

He’d been working on it forever and hadn’t even gotten the first stanza written. He didn’t understand why it was so hard. It should be easy, just a few words jotted down and put to music.

Sighing, Ryan set down his notebook and gazed across the campus. It was a Saturday and few students were there. A few came and went periodically from the library, but otherwise, all was silent. This was how Ryan liked to work, in complete quiet and peace.

He couldn’t particularly work at his apartment since Jon practically lived there, and he and Spencer were always playing Guitar Hero or arguing about who the best bassist in the world was. Ryan didn’t particularly care, but they did distract him from writing, and that was what mattered.

So he retreated to the library, sitting in the little grass courtyard, sheltered by a few cactus and palo verde trees. The only sound here was the tinkling of water from the fountain that sprung up in the middle. A few coins littered the bottom, but most were skimmed out by the homeless people around.

Ryan closed his eyes, breathing in the cool winter air, trying to clear his mind so he could start fresh. It should be simple since he had the whole story, or most of it. They had never exactly clarified the ending except the happily ever after part.

Sitting by the fountain, Ryan tried to think of how to write a song about death. He understood the concept well. His own father had been an alcoholic and had died of liver failure a few years ago. It had been like a sickness, creeping through his body, filling his veins, affecting everyone around him.

"Hey, Ryan!"

A loud voice startled Ryan and he nearly fell off the bench as his eyes snapped open and he looked around for who’d spoken. His actions earned a laugh and he recognized it immediately.

Behind him, Brendon was standing, a smile on his face.

Ryan let out a breath. "My God, Brendon, don’t do that."

"Sorry," Brendon apologized, not sounding sorry at all. "So how are the lyrics coming?"

"They’re not," Ryan grumbled, closing his notebook. He felt like a failure and English was his major! He should be good at this, not failing miserably at writing a simple poem.

Brendon’s eyebrow went up and he plopped down on the bench next to Ryan. "How come?" he asked innocently.

Surprised at his genuine interest, Ryan sighed. "I don’t know. Maybe I’m not cut out for songs."

"Yes, you are!" Brendon insisted, his mouth curving into a smile again. "You can do anything!"

Ryan scoffed. "You don’t even know me. How do you know that?"

"Well, I already told you, you were awesome…" Brendon said slowly, still smiling mischievously. "How much more do you need?"

Ryan raised an eyebrow. A lot more. "Being awesome has nothing to do with song writing."