(c) A Closet Full of Dresses [2/?] [Rated PG-13]

WARNINGS: This story contains slash. It also contains a transgendered character and gender reassignment surgery..

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I have two parts so far, but I'll just post the first for now. I made the banner.

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Pairing: Ryden.
Rating: PG-13.
Summary: Ryan always knew something was wrong. After fourteen years of coping, it's starting to slowly drag him into the undertow. His relationships are falling apart, he can't have sex with his boyfriend without crying, and his dresses at home are starting to collect dust.

He never thought that anyone could know without calling him a freak and cutting off all ties. When he's proven wrong, he starts to make his way down that dark tunnel where the light will eventually shine through.

Set between the middle of 2006 and present-day, this journey covers the awkward steps in four-inch heels that Ryan has to take to become the person he was meant to be.

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A Closet Full of Dresses
Part One: The Third Suitcase

There were three suitcases, always three. One suitcase for his clothes and one for everything else, books and journals and hair gel. The third was always locked and hidden in the closet, keeping the reminder of it out of his sight as well as the questioning eyes of everyone else. He had bought the lock at a hardware store, paid fifty dollars for it, always carrying that suitcase as carry-on so the lock wouldn’t get broken. Ryan never opened that one if anyone was in the room. Brendon assumed it was full of gay porn and sex toys, but he never mentioned it.

Right now, however, Ryan was alone. Brendon had gone out with Jon and Spencer and a few other people to some club and he had feigned fatigue. Which meant that he had at least three hours before they came back. So he had pulled the suitcase out of the closet and was now kneeling on the floor, twisting the combination lock. When he undid the zipper, there was no gay porn in sight, just tulle and lace and silk and satin, every color in the rainbow. Dresses and stockings, lingerie and high heels.

Tonight he pulled out the black, laying it on the bed. He stripped quickly, shimmying out of his boxers. He stood there in a pair of red lace underwear, shivering slightly in the air conditioning. He reached into the suitcase and pulled out a bra, slipping it on and doing the snaps before putting in the silicone cups.

He let out a small sigh of contentment as he pulled the dress on, feeling the soft material sliding across his skin. It was always like this, like the first time he had sex. He closed his eyes for a moment, letting the memory rush through his senses. Lying on the bed, trembling, first painful thrust, knowing this was what it was for a girl, for her first time, awkward movements and rough penetration and missionary position. That feeling of being right, that everything was going to be okay, if only for a minute.

The dresses were like that now, which was good because the sex wasn’t. Ryan opened his eyes, slipping on a pair of back heels before walking to the bathroom. He stared at himself in the mirror as he put on his make-up.

No one knew about this, this secret ritual. Ryan putting on bras and dresses, smiling as he looked at the almost-girl in the mirror. No one knew that it never stayed smiles, always ended in tears with Ryan throwing the clothes back in the suitcase and refusing to answer questions about why he was upset when Brendon came back.

Tonight was no exception. After an hour there were mascara stains down Ryan’s cheeks. He washed his face before he tore off the dress. When Brendon got back, Ryan was staring blankly at the television, his eyes bloodshot and puffy.

Brendon sat down beside him, leaning in to lightly kiss his cheek. “What’s wrong, baby?”

Ryan didn’t answer, didn’t move, didn’t take his eyes off the television.

“Baby?” Brendon tried again. He snuggled against his boyfriend, softly feathering kisses along his neck. “Come on, Ry. Talk to me.” He moved his hand to the waistband of Ryan’s sweats, knowing he would get a response, even if it wouldn’t be the desired one.

Ryan shoved at his hand viciously, trying to pull away, but Brendon held fast. “Get off of me!” he shrieked.

“Talk to me.” Brendon pleaded, trying to grab Ryan’s shirt when the other boy managed to pull away. Ryan crawled into the second bed and Brendon followed. “Baby?”

“Go away.” Ryan snapped, hot tears swimming in his eyes. “I don’t want to.”

“We don’t have to.” Brendon said quickly. “It’s okay.” It wasn’t, to be honest. Brendon was still trying to figure out how to deal with his boyfriend’s sexual anorexia. It had been a month since their last time.

“Please, go away.” Ryan whispered miserably.

Brendon sighed heavily, squeezing Ryan’s shoulder for a brief moment. “If that’s what you want.” he murmured. He was kissed the other boy’s cheek sadly before crawling into the other bed. His emotions were swimming around in his head, upset and worried and scared. Upset about Ryan’s reactions, worried about what was happening, and scared that he was going to be dumped.

Ryan curled up into himself, wrapping his arms around his knees. He let the tears fall now, but biting his lip to make sure the sobs didn’t slip out. Brendon was going to break up with him soon. He’d probably get kicked out of the band. And all of that scared him to death, but he could see the silver lining glowing in the darkness.

Maybe, if everything fell apart, he could disappear. He could be a girl. Tears were running down his cheeks and along his neck as he tried to figure out whether losing everyone would be worth it. He knew it would. He just wanted to have everything.

Brendon stared at the curve of Ryan’s shoulder blades through his tee shirt as he tried not to think, tried not to get lost in memories. Memories of when things weren’t so bad and Ryan would let Brendon hold him even if he wouldn’t talk. Memories of when Ryan would let Brendon be inside of him.

Now everything was different and all Brendon wanted to know was why.

* * *

The next morning Ryan was a little better. He forced a pretty smile when Brendon ordered room service and kissed him once they were done eating. He swallowed his protests when the kiss deepened and let the other boy scoop him up and push him onto the bed, kissing Ryan’s neck and sucking at his pulse. And with slightly shaking hands, Ryan undid Brendon’s jeans and hesitantly kissed down his stomach before taking the other boy in his mouth and giving him his first blowjob in two weeks.

Afterwards, he ducked into the bathroom to cover up the new bruise on his neck and slip a pair of pink panties on under his boxers before they left for the photo shoot. He leaned against Brendon in the car and smiled during the pictures. Afterwards, when they decided to go out to eat, he talked and let Brendon hold his hand under the table. And everything was okay.

Until the Meet and Greet. Ryan got a little quieter, wouldn’t kiss Brendon back before they went onstage. And after the show, he hid himself in his bunk and refused to talk when Brendon tried to kiss him.

He saw their faces in his head. Their beautiful faces with their long hair, curvy figures, small hands. The way, he knew, that night or the next, they would take it all for granted. Too fat, breasts not big enough, hating their menstrual cycles. And he hated them for it, for being what he couldn’t and not appreciating it at all.

“Ry?” Brendon slipped into his boyfriend’s bunk around midnight, wrapping his arms around Ryan’s waist. “Baby?”

The older didn’t answer, didn’t move, but at least he wasn’t pushing away.

Brendon kissed his hair and stroked the small of his back. “I love you.” he whispered, letting his eyes flutter shut. “I love you, Ry.”

“I love you, too.” Ryan whispered, an hour later, once Brendon’s breathing had slowed and he knew his boyfriend was sleeping. He slipped his boxers low around his waist, taking Brendon’s hand and running it along the lace that was underneath, pretending it was real. Pretending that Brendon knew and that it wasn’t a dirty secret hidden beneath denim and cotton.

He heard Brendon’s voice echoing in his head. ’Talk to me.’ Ryan’s eyes filled with tears as he struggled not to cry, letting go of Brendon’s hand and pulling his boxers back up. “You’d hate me if I did.” he whispered, the tears escaping and slipping down his cheeks, falling into the creases of his lips and wetting them.

* * *

The next morning they were at the new venue and Ryan wasn’t in his bunk. When Brendon opened the bus door, Ryan was leaning against the building, staring up at the blue sky.

“You sleep okay, baby?” Brendon asked, crossing the concrete and rubbing the back of his boyfriend’s neck.

Ryan nodded, breathing deeply, leaning his head against the other boy’s shoulder. “Love you.” he murmured affectionately.

Brendon smiled. “I know, baby.” he said softly. “I love you, too.”
checked. pp.J

-sigh- Dru, I don't normally read your writing, I stopped reading on that "other" site a long time ago... but... that was so amazing.

Part Two: Shotgun.

A few weeks later, Ryan was at home. A week off. “Vacation!” Brendon had exclaimed gleefully, kissing Ryan on the mouth before jumping around for a solid fifteen minutes.

Some vacation. Ryan though. He put Shotgun outside before going down to the basement and unlocking the door. That door was even more guarded than his suitcase. Two locks, one key, one combination. He told Brendon it was for storage. It was cold when he stepped inside, reminding him how long it had been since he was down there last.

He looked at the pictures on the walls as he walked toward the closet. The pin-up girls, the models, the people he loathed the sight of but couldn’t tear his eyes from. He let his fingertips run over his favorite, a photograph of Jackie Onasis. Then he turned the door handle and opened the closet.

The dresses inside were so much more beautiful than the ones in his suitcase. Gorgeous, full, floor-length gowns. Dresses he would wear on the red carpet if he were a girl.

When he pulled out the pink, a small shower of dust floated through the air, making him sneeze. He was going to have to get them all dry-cleaned. He didn’t want them getting discoloured.

But for now . . .

He loved the way Shotgun would lick his face when he went outside, the way she knew exactly who he was no matter what he was wearing. The only thing he wasn’t too happy about was her darting under his skirt to rub against his ankles, getting hair all over. But he always forgave her.

He chased her through the backyard, loving the feel of the air against his skin and the tulle against his legs. She would bark and then chase her tail and maybe a butterfly before running back to Ryan. He had never told anyone but her and he knew she couldn’t tell, but she didn’t seem to care. Dogs are like that, unconditional love.

He lost track of the time and he didn’t hear the knocking on the door, just Brendon’s yells. “Ryan? I know you’re here!” Ryan looked up, fear painted in his face. Shotgun stopped barking. He flew through the house, nearly tripping over the basement stairs. He took the dress off in record time, laying it on top of the dresser before he scrambled into his clothes.

By the time he opened the door, he was flushed and out of breath. “Masturbate much?” Brendon asked, stepping inside and closing the door behind him.

“I wasn’t.” Ryan said uneasily, still panting slightly. “I thought you were staying with your parents.”

“I am.” Brendon replied shortly. “If you want me to leave, just say so.”

Ryan drew back as if he’d been slapped. “I-I don’t. I was just . . . in the middle of something?”

Brendon stared at him. “Are you fucking someone?”

Ryan’s eyes grew wide and his mouth opened slightly. “N-No.” he said, shocked. “No.” He felt tears stinging his eyes. “W-Why would . . .” His voice trailed off, his chest heaving with heavy, painful breaths.

Brendon looked . . . different than normal, his eyes darker, his mouth drawn. Like he wanted to hurt Ryan. “Oh, I don’t know. You refuse to have sex with me, then when I come over you’re all sweaty and want me to leave.”

The tears spilled over, running down Ryan’s cheeks. He hated himself for it, but he couldn’t stop. He tried to scream, but his voice got caught in his throat. So instead, he reached out and slapped Brendon across the face. Or he tried to, rather.

Brendon caught his wrist and pushed him against the wall, bringing his mouth down harshly against Ryan’s. He heard the objection trying to make its way out of the other boy’s throat, but he simply swallowed it. He kept kissing, teeth tugging at Ryan’s lips, using entirely too much tongue. The tears continued to stream down Ryan’s cheeks as his hands struggled desperately against Brendon’s.

For one fearful moment, he thought his boyfriend was going to rape him.

But then Brendon pulled away, the darkness gone in his eyes, but his mouth still drawn. “We need to talk.” he said quietly.

Ryan slid against the wall, soft cries falling from his lips, his face buried in his hands. Brendon stood there for a moment, just staring, his expression unreadable. Then, giving a small sigh, he walked toward Ryan and knelt, gently wrapping his arms around the crying boy. “I’m sorry, baby.” he whispered, tenderly rocking his boyfriend. “I’m so sorry. I shouldn’t have done that.”

And Ryan brought his own arms up around Brendon, clinging to him like a child and sobbing so hard he could scarcely breathe for crying. “I-I’d never—“ His voice cut off as he choked on the words, struggling to gain control of his breathing.

Breath stroked his back, hating himself for saying it. He knew Ryan would never cheat, he just wanted a reason for his sudden sexual coldness . . . any reason, even if he didn’t like it. “I know, baby.” he whispered as Ryan gave another sob. “I’m sorry.” His fingers ran through the other boy’s hair slowly.

They stayed there like that for nearly half an hour until Ryan’s cries and hiccups ceased. And then, he was drained, completely exhausted, hardly able to keep his eyes opened. So Brendon picked him up and carried him into the bedroom, lying him down on top of the lavender sheets and smoothing his hair back. And Ryan, for the first time in a not too long (but long enough) time, held his arms out for Brendon.

The younger boy kicked his shoes off, climbing into the bed, and taking Ryan in his arms, kissing his hair and caressing his back. “Do you love me, Ry?” he whispered, voice scratchy.

The older nodded tiredly. “Lots.” he murmured in a sleep voice, snuggling against Brendon’s shoulder, letting the warm darkness claim him.

About an hour later, he woke up. Brendon was still sleeping, snoring quietly, so he got out of the bed and lightly kissed his boyfriend’s cheek before going outside. He sat down in the grass and pulled Shotgun into his lap, scratching behind her ears. “Nobody understands like you.” he murmured. “Nobody ever will.”

She licked his fingers before barking and scampering off to chase a bumblebee buzzing around a flower.

“You’re going to get stung!” Ryan called, looking up as he heard the back door open. “Hey.” he said quietly, lowering his eyes when he saw Brendon.

“Hey.” the other replied, walking across the grass and holding his hands out to Ryan, who cautiously took them and let himself be pulled up.

“You’re not wearing shoes.” he whispered.

“I know.” Brendon said, leaning in and gently pressing his lips to Ryan’s, hands resting on the other boy’s hips as he continued to lightly kiss his boyfriend, resisting the urge to smile when he felt Ryan’s lips hesitantly responding. “See? That wasn’t so bad.” he said when they came apart for air.

Ryan jerked away, bottom lip trembling, eyes stinging.

“No, no, baby.” Brendon said desperately, reaching out for Ryan’s arm. “I wasn’t trying to be mean.”

“I like kissing you.” Ryan whispered, his back still to Brendon. “I just, I don’t want to do . . . that.”

“But why?” Brendon asked, reaching his arms out and wrapping them around Ryan’s waist from behind, pulling his boyfriend closer to him. “I just want to know why.”

“I can’t.” he whispered, eyes shining with tears.

“Yes, you can.” Brendon murmured, kissing his temple. “I promise. I won’t get mad. Just tell me.”

Ryan shook his head, leaning back and closing his eyes, breathing deeply. “Just don’t leave me, Bren.”

A sigh of defeat. “I could never leave you, Ry. But one of these days you’re going to have to tell me what’s going on.”

And then you’ll leave me. Ryan’s breath hitched in his throat and he opened his tear-filled eyes as Shotgun ran up and started rubbing against his ankle, whining. “Let’s go inside.” he murmured, bending down to pick her up and walking toward the door, Brendon following behind them, slowly.
checked. pp.J