Like Suicide, Only Softer - pt. three
The next week, Gerard is allowed out of his room. It’s only been two weeks since he’s been in it, but apparently Frank was going so crazy without him that they had no choice but to let them see each other. Brendon doesn’t know exactly what’s going on between them, but he passed by the lounge earlier to see Frank in Gerard’s lap, while Gerard spoke softly in his ear before kissing him, and Brendon was shocked to see that side of Gerard compared to the side that stabbed someone. He guesses that people you love bring out the best in you.
As for Ryan, well. Brendon’s never been as happy as he is right now. Ryan makes him feel things he never thought he would experience. He never thought he’d find someone as fucked up as him, someone that understands him. But Ryan does.
Brendon’s never even been close to being in love, but he thinks he might be falling for Ryan.
Even though they’re both happy together, it’s still not happy enough. And that’s not something that has to do with their feelings for each other, because those have encompassed everything, but it’s just that they both have so much underlying hurt and pain in them, that it’s hard for anything really to make them truly, completely happy. Even love can’t make them forget.
Brendon’s still not eating. He and Ryan sit together every day, and Ryan watches helplessly as Brendon stares at his food with blank eyes, pretending to eat whenever a doctor passes. On the days that he does eat, he just goes straight to the bathroom and throws it all up anyway.
Brendon passed by the bathroom mirror with his shirt off yesterday and the sight made him sick. He kneeled over the toilet and threw up, Ryan running in to rub his back and help him up. He’s getting weaker every day that he doesn’t eat, and Ryan’s begged him to eat just a little but Brendon won’t.
And Ryan, he stills feels utterly alone, even though he has Brendon. He still hears a malicious voice in his head that he can’t seem to escape, and he still has manic episodes.
Really, the only thing they both have left is each other.
* * *
It’s Wednesday, and Brendon is at his therapy session. Dr. Clark is sitting across from him, waiting for him to talk when she knows he won’t.
Brendon finds it funny, actually, that he’s supposed to be getting better here and he’s only gotten worse. The doctors haven’t even noticed that he’s not eating.
“How about we talk about Ryan?” she starts. Brendon tries to ignore the fluttering in his stomach at the mention of the name.
“What about him?” he asks coolly.
“Well, how’s he affected you?”
For once, Brendon decides to give her an honest answer. “He’s the best thing that’s happened since I’ve been here,” he says, looking her straight in the eyes. Her eyebrows go up, obviously surprised by the answer.
“Well, that’s fantastic that you two have become so close with each other.”
Brendon has a hard time holding back a smirk.
“I just… I feel so comfortable talking to him,” he admits. “He makes me feel better.”
“So, you’ve talked to him about your personal life then?” she asks skeptically.
“If by ‘personal life’ you mean the fact that my dad raped me and I’m bulimic and tried to kill myself, then yes,” he says bluntly. Dr. Clark’s mouth opens and closes, and her eyes look sad.
“Oh, Brendon,” she starts apologetically. “I didn’t meant to - I wasn’t-”
“I know,” Brendon interrupts with a sigh. “It’s just, the only time I can forget about all that stuff is when I’m with Ryan. He makes me feel like a different person,” he admits, having no idea why he’s suddenly talking to Dr. Clark at all, let alone about stuff this personal.
“Are you two… more than friends?” she asks slowly. Brendon pauses, biting his lip and looking away. “It’s okay,” she says, tapping her nameplate on her desk. “Doctor-patient confidentiality, I can’t tell anyone anything you say to me,” she smiles kindly. Brendon feels bad for hating her so much for no reason before.
“Well, um. Yeah, we are,” he mumbles. She nods, like she’d expected as much.
“I think he’s good for you,” she finally decides.
Brendon silently agrees.
* * *
A boy named Mikey committed suicide.
Ryan and Brendon are watching a movie in the lounge, and everyone around them is talking about it. Brendon doesn’t know who it is, but Ryan must, because his eyes get huge.
“That’s horrible,” he mutters. “He was so nice.”
“Who was he?” Brendon asks.
“He was always really quiet,” Ryan says. “Kinda lanky, always carried comic books everywhere.” Brendon’s mind flashes back to the night he and Ryan sat in here watching Donnie Darko and he remembers the boy in the corner reading a comic book. “He was Gerard’s brother,” Ryan says.
“Wow, he’s probably freaking out,” Brendon comments.
They don’t think much of it. It’s sad of course, but neither of them was close with him.
So they just continue watching the movie.
* * *
Nobody ever thought this would happen. Of course it was expected for Gerard to freak out, but nobody anticipated that this is how he’d react.
It’s silent in the lounge, everybody either too shocked or too sad to speak. Brendon is feeling a bit of both.
He hears whispers of, “How did he get another knife?” and, “But why Frank?” Nobody really knows what to think.
Gerard and Frank are dead. Somehow, he got a hold of another knife. He stabbed himself, but not before stabbing Frank too. And nobody knows why; nobody gets it. Brendon does.
Gerard loved Frank, and he didn’t want to leave him here. So he did what any fucked up mental person in love would do; he took him with him.
Brendon’s never been one for tales of romantic tragedies, but he thinks he gets it.
* * *
Love is not something either Brendon or Ryan is familiar with. Brendon grew up believing that what his dad did to him every night was love. He’s never experienced the real thing. His perception of it is so fucked, and therefore he’s confused as to how he’d be able to tell if he was in love.
Ryan sighs, turning over and wrapping his arms around Brendon. “Brendon,” he whispers.
“Hm?”
Ryan pauses for a moment, leaning in to kiss Brendon’s neck. “I love you.”
It’s so simple, the way he just says it. There’s no big declaration or nervousness or fear - he just said it like it’s something he’s been saying his whole life. And Brendon supposes that that’s how you know you’re in love; if you can know with everything in you that you love someone, if the words come out so effortlessly that it just seems natural, that’s got to be real.
So Brendon doesn’t think twice before saying, “I love you, too.” Because he just knows.
“Could you show me?” Ryan asks.
“What?”
Ryan looks up from Brendon’s chest. “Show me how you love me,” he mumbles, leaning up and kissing him. He slides his hands up Brendon’s shirt, feeling how the bones are sticking out even more now. Ryan straddles him, kissing his neck and touching him anywhere he can. “I want you,” Ryan nearly growls, grabbing one of Brendon’s hands and sucking on his fingers just like Brendon did.
“Oh,” Brendon says, understanding now. “Are you sure?” Ryan doesn’t say anything, just nods. So Brendon complies, carefully sliding a finger into him and working him open. He can tell Ryan likes it by the way he bites his lip.
He doesn’t have to finger him long before he makes him go crazy with want, moaning and begging.
When he first slides his cock into him he can see the pain on Ryan’s face, the way his eyebrows crease and his mouth tightens into a line. Ryan leans down to bite at Brendon’s neck, claw at his shoulders, while Brendon fucks him. He starts to like it eventually, pushing himself down onto Brendon’s dick and moaning with his mouth attached to some part of Brendon’s body at all times.
“Fuck, do that again,” Ryan says when Brendon pushes at a different angle. He keeps it that way, loving how Ryan completely goes out of focus and just moans and whimpers until Brendon fists his cock once and he comes. “I wanna,” Ryan breathes harshly, slumping onto Brendon. “I wanna feel you come,” he says, kissing him hard. Brendon moans into his mouth, thrusting a few more times before he comes. Ryan closes his eyes and drops his mouth open when he feels it, kissing Brendon again while he groans helplessly.
Brendon’s never been a cuddler, but well, he can’t help it with Ryan. So they cuddle, wrapped together in a blanket, Brendon stroking his fingers through Ryan’s hair.
“You wanna know something else?” Ryan says into the silence.
“Hm?”
“I still want to die,” he whispers. Brendon should be upset by this, or concerned at least. And he has no idea what he’s supposed to say in a situation like this, so he just says the truth.
“Me too.”
* * *
It’s not hard, really, to plan out your own suicide. Not if you want it so badly. It’s not hard to figure out how to get the pills, when and where you’re going to do it, who you need to call first. It’s the easiest thing in the world.
“Hey, Mom,” Brendon says into the phone, Ryan right beside him, holding his hand.
“Hey, sweetie,” she greets, and he can tell she’s smiling. “How are you?”
“Um,” he clears his throat. He is not going to cry. This needs to be short and simple. “I’m so much better, Mom. Really, I’m great,” he lies. “I might even be ready to come home soon.” He knows this will probably make it harder for her to understand later on, but he just can’t do this without telling her what she wants to hear, so she can be happy for once, even if it’s only for a single day.
“That’s great! God, I’m so proud of you,” she says. “I knew I’d get my old Brendon back.”
He feels tears prick at his eyes and he blinks hard. “Hey, I’ve gotta go, but, just - I love you, okay?” he says honestly, trying his best to fake sounding happy.
“Aw, okay, I love you too, sweetie. Call me again soon.”
“I will, I promise,” he lies.
“Alright, bye!”
“Bye.”
Ryan puts his arm around Brendon, tugging him close and just holding him.
“If you don’t want to do it anymore-”
“I do,” Brendon interrupts. “It’s just - it’s hard.”
“I know,” Ryan says quietly. “I’m sorry.” There’s really not a proper way to go about all this. There’s not a certain way of speaking that’s considered acceptable in this situation.
Ryan pulls his knees to his chest, looking at Brendon almost sadly. “Do you think we’re doing the right thing?” he asks. Brendon doesn’t answer right away, because it’s hard to think of what they’re doing as the ‘right thing.’ It’s not the right thing really, but it’s the right thing for them.
“Yeah,” he answers honestly. “Nobody understands us, Ryan. Nobody ever will. And I don’t know about you, but I’m tired of being unhappy every second of my life.” Brendon looks over at Ryan, smiling a little. “Well, not every second.”
Ryan smiles, lying back on the bed, Brendon following suit. “So we’re really doing this?” Brendon asks quietly.
“Yeah,” Ryan answers, pulling a small plastic bag from his pocket. “I can’t do this anymore, you know? You don’t know what it’s like to live being scared of a voice that belongs to someone who only exists in your head. I’m tired of constantly worrying that someone is going to hurt me. I hate being this way,” he finishes.
“Yeah,” Brendon’s voice sounds hollow. He raises his shirt up, looking over at the mirror on the wall and seeing his sunken-in stomach. “I hate being this way too.”
Ryan runs his hand across Brendon’s ribs, sliding down his stomach until he reaches his hand, lacing their fingers together. When he pulls it back, Brendon feels the pills in his hand. He has no idea what they are, but Ryan said they would work, so he’s trusting him.
He’s completely aware that this isn’t going to be some easy, slowly-falling-asleep thing. He knows all too well from last time that that’s not what happens. They’ll feel it, and they might even end up choking on their own vomit.
Brendon doesn’t care as long as it works.
He feels Ryan cuddle closer to him, pressing kisses to his neck. “We’ll be okay,” he whispers, moving from his neck to his lips. It’s a different kiss than usual this time, slow and soft instead of fast and needy. It’s fitting, Brendon thinks as Ryan’s tongue mixes with his own. Ryan pulls back no more than an inch, bringing his hand up and putting two pills on his tongue before kissing Brendon again, transferring one of the pills. They add more gradually, until Brendon’s kissing is getting sloppy and he loses count of how many they’ve consumed.
“I love you,” Ryan says with conviction, and he almost looks happy.
“I love you, too,” Brendon whispers, wrapping his arms around Ryan.
“At least I’m not dying a virgin,” Ryan jokes, his words slurring a little.
“Are you really making jokes right now?” Brendon asks, but he’s smiling. He wishes everything could be this effortless all the time.
“Can’t think of a better way to go, Brendon Urie,” Ryan smiles against his cheek, kissing him again.
“I’m glad I came here,” Brendon remarks, and what they’re saying isn’t even connected anymore, both of them a little out of it. “Glad I found you.”
“Me too,” Ryan sighs. “Because I would have done this anyway, but it’s better when you’re not alone.” For a minute, Brendon thinks they shouldn’t be as calm as they are about this. But it’s something that he’s been wanting for a long time. It’s a resigned feeling, not scary anymore. He wants to be put out of his misery.
“Are you scared?” Brendon asks, running his fingers through Ryan’s soft hair.
“A little,” Ryan admits. “But at least I have you.”
“I don’t think I could have done this without you,” Brendon says, his eyelids getting heavy. Ryan pauses, reaching down and locking their hands together again.
“I’ve always thought that love is sort of like suicide,” Ryan says, sounding far away. “I mean, they go hand in hand. There’s no better reason to die than out of love.”
And he’s right. Isn’t that why they’re doing this? Because they love each other? There’s nothing else for them here, because the only reason they’ve both held on this long was so that they could find each other.
“Never really felt loved until you came along,” Brendon murmurs, feeling somewhere between wanting to pass out and vomit. He hears sniffling, and looks over to see Ryan crying.
“I just,” Ryan starts. “I can’t wait for all of this to finally be over,” he explains. Brendon understands that feeling more than almost anything. This is the only way out for them. It’s the only place they can go where their pasts can’t catch up with them.
Brendon could make up thoughts about how they’ll be happy forever in the ‘afterlife’ or whatever it is people seem to believe happens after death these days. But he doesn’t know what’s going to happen, what it’s going to be like, or if he’ll be any happier. Maybe he just won’t be anymore.
But along his way, he stumbled upon Ryan, the quiet, helpless boy that Brendon never imagined would mean something to him.
He means everything to him.
And so they lie there, holding hands, drifting in and out of consciousness, waiting for the not-so-happy ending that they both always imagined for themselves. Brendon thinks about what Ryan said; ‘Love is like suicide.’ It makes sense to him. When you love someone, you’re taking a chance on them, throwing yourself into something that causes a lot of heartbreak in the end. And if you’re lucky, you get it right the first time. You’ll go through a lot of pain and anguish along the way, but it’s all got to be worth it in the end. Love either ends up in happiness or misery.
Just like suicide.
End.