He jerked his hand away, "I'm not on my fucking period, you asshole. What's changed?" Brendon rubbed circles on the back of Ryan's hand. "Melanie, you've never acted like this when its the womanly problems before. You guys make a huge deal out of anything. It's only natural that we assume somethings bothering you," Spencer admitted his observations, waving the book at Ryan. That's literally one of the saddest Beatles songs in existence! Plus, you're sitting in the dark, reading The Diary of Anne Frank. "Because you're listening to Yesterday on repeat. "I though the saying was just chop liver?" Spencer sat in the chair at Ryan's desk, poking through the books and CD's lying on the surface.īrendon took his normal spot on the bed, next to Ryan. "The fuck are we? Chopped liver?" Jon puffed playfully. Ryan smiled softly and turned down the music, reaching for the drink. "Hey Mel," Brendon smiled, setting the drinks of Ryan's bed table. Brendon stood with a Sonic drink holder, Spencer and Jon behind him. Someone's knuckles wrapped the door 5 times but before Ryan could respond, it opened. He wore a tight sports bra, compressing his small, but still prominent breasts, and a shirt from the men's department. He sat in his dark bedroom, listening to old rock from the 60's.
But it put him into a further depression.īeing someone you don't want to be takes a toll, and Ryan had lived a life of it. There was a while where he grew his hair long and dyed it different colors, wore girly makeup to feel feminine. He wanted to look like a boy, to feel like a boy. He was a boy, he liked boys, all his friends were boys. He never wanted to be called a girl, a she, her.
Melanie was never the name that he wanted.