[i]NOTICE TO PAY RENT OR QUIT[/i]. Three months. Every time Ryan came close to coming up with his rent money he had to use it on something else: gas money to drive to his dad's (where he would stay if he didn't absolutely have to go to work), or hospital bills for the same man, or to pay off some other bill that took priority, like insurance or the cell bill. His landlord wasn't particularly nice but she also wasn't particularly aggressive, so every time the check was due, he gave some excuse and puppy-dog eyes. A slightly older than middle-aged woman, she always bowed to it - [i]I just need another week, my hours got cut at work, I promise I can make it[/i], plus his chronic babyface to match - but three months was a long time to wait, and every missed check added up. He was over a grand in debt to her, now, and he had no idea how he could come up with that [i]and[/i] another month.

What was the point? He'd come to the apartment two years ago with plans to save up some cash, take a gap year, then go to college, either paying fully for himself or finding a full ride somehow. Surely it couldn't be that hard... he'd been a contender for valedictorian in high school, his grades were that good. He'd worked for it because he knew he'd need the help financially, but now it wasn't helping him in any way. At twenty, he was still working two jobs, both of which had drastically cut the lengths of his shifts and now he couldn't come up with the usual bottom-of-the-barrel amount he made to survive, and his dad was still hanging onto life an hour away from him where he still had to take care of him just like he was a teenager again, and he wasn't studying anything at all, hadn't even gotten through registration before he realized he couldn't afford it. That's the thing: there was no point. At all. Ryan was cutting it close to the line every day and he was getting sick of it. This wasn't living, this was existing, and... nowadays, half of his time was spent trying to figure a way out of it all.

It was dark, and sometimes he thought maybe it was selfish, but. Honestly, when his father finally gave in (he knew it was going to happen, yeah, he'd come to terms with it a while back), and when he gave the landlord the money so that she wasn't screwed over by some dead kid, what else was there to stay here for? He didn't see any way out  of this hole, so... yeah, Ryan was sort of saying his goodbyes in general. Giving away anything he thought had value, trying not to talk to people much lest he make a [i]connection[/i] or whatever, god forbid. Any real plans were curtailed in order for him to have time to make up that money, though, and to see his dad off first of all, because really as much as he so desperately wanted to go and escape all of this, he would rather not pass his debt on to his poor landlady and he wasn't particularly a fan of his father but he didn't want him to be alone in his last days. Which it was coming up on, he knew it.

There was no telling when that would happen exactly, though, so, eviction notice in hand - [i]if you fail to pay the above mentioned rent due within the month, the tenancy will be forfeited and you must vacate and surrender the premises to the landlord[/i] - Ryan put out an ad for a roommate, too cheap to afford a spot in the paper and just throwing up some printouts on telephone poles and poster walls. Maybe if he got lucky the applicant would be, like, someone super well-off just looking for a steal on their place to live and Ryan's life would suddenly be so much easier. But maybe not. He got two responses total: one guy who called in and then met him only to be extraordinarily creepy and perhaps a weed dealer, which would be nice if he actually made money from his deals, and then some e-mail scheduling a meet-up. Really weird. It was fairly ominous, so vague and surface-level that all he knew was that the guy's name was Brendon, and whatever, Ryan would take whatever he could get at this point.

Ryan dropped down to his dad's place before the interview was supposed to happen, make sure the daily nurse was still keeping him breathing. All looked well - he was in bed, television on, his dialysis set-up trapping him in place from the nightstand. Ryan hovered near him for a few moments, hesitant in case he was no longer an unresponsive case, but he didn't even look at him. Ryan ignored any emotion that came from that, fluffed up his pillows, and promptly went exploring through the house, digging through his childhood room to find all of his emergency cash he'd hidden for when he couldn't steal grocery money from his dad's wallet in high school, all of the savings from shitty part-time summer jobs. Not much, but. It helped alleviate the debt a little. He came up with a couple hundred before finally slinking out of the house, back to his apartment, mentally adding to the stack of money he'd made up for his landlady.

Minutes after he came back, though, weirdly conveniently, a knock came at the door, and Ryan had only just been unwinding from being out. He threw his keys on his wobbly table and answered the door tentatively, looking curious at who he supposed was his roommate applicant. And, [i]fuck,[/i] if it was, then... no questions asked, he's in. Ryan was strapped for cash, sure, but they could get a third person here, no problem. The guy was just. Perfect. [b]"Um,"[/b] Ryan said first, eloquent, standing there for a moment before remembering to be normal. He shook his head and then opened the door fully, holding out his hand as friendly as could be. [b]"Hey, hi, how are you, you must be Brendon."[/b] Ryan smiled as good-naturedly as he could muster, stepping back. [b]"Come on in. Did you just get to town?"[/b]