I'm A Scar Away From Falling Apart (5/?)
Title: I’m A Scar Away From Falling Apart (5/?)
Author: longerthanwedo
Rating: PG-13 for now
Pairing: Rydon
POV: 1st, Brendon’s
Summary: “Who the hell are you?”
Disclaimer: I don’t own the characters, but the beginning of this plot is based off of a true story. Title belongs to Fall Out Boy.
Author’s Notes: This chapter is kind of longer, I think. But it kind of took a while, again, sorry. I think I have a problem keeping track of the time…plus I have this research project due soon which I am totally not doing because this is so much more fun ;) Feedback is awesome; it keeps me wanting to write. Oh, and I made a banner! Ta-da! Hmm, it's really tiny, though.
Prologue
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Great, I think as Ryan’s eyes drift shut, his warm hand still in mine, and the door know turns. Just great, great timing. It’s probably a relative of Ryan’s. Someone who’s angry that he’s stuck in here, or mad at the fact that they weren’t the first ones to be able to visit. And I’m here. Holding his hand. And I’m the reason he’s here in the first place. Great.
I’m steeling myself for a potentially extremely awkward conversation, when the door swings open with a considerable amount of force behind it.
In marches a girl with multicolored hair and cold eyes that flicker down to Ryan’s sleeping form before they snap up to mine with a venomous glare. I’m about to open my mouth. Introduce myself; maybe make an explanation of some sort, or maybe a distraction so I can run for it. But,
“Who the hell are you?” She beats me to it.
Who the hell are you? My mind shoots back. “B-Brendon,” my mouth says instead with much less defiance than I would have liked, and an unbidden stutter on the “B”.
She stands with her hand on her hip, as if she’s waiting for a better explanation.
I don’t really feel like giving her anything, at the moment, so I merely stare back with what I hope is a cold and fierce expression, though, from previous experiences, I’m guessing I look more scared than anything else. Oh well, that’s not my fault. If it were anyone else in my position they’d have every right to be terrified. This girl could kill me with her eyes alone.
“I’m Ryan’s girlfriend.” The last word has a bit of a “duh” tone to it.
I drop Ryan’s hand like its on fire, forgetting for a moment that he’s asleep. As soon as his hand hits the bed, his eyelids flutter and he makes a noise in the back of his throat, flipping his hand palm-up, like he wants me to take it back. Like he’s searching for me. That absolutely does not make my smile fondly down at the sleeping boy. And I absolutely do not blush.
The - Ryan’s - girl’s laser gaze is singeing my hair. I look back at her with equal venom, daring her with my eyes to blame me for the fact that she barged in here and woke Ryan up.
His eyelids flicker a bit, and as soon as she spots the movement she speaks;
“Ryan, who the hell is he?”
Ryan’s eyes are still closed, but I swear I could see them roll behind the lids. I don’t even know if that’s possible.
“Ryan.” Her voice is slightly less sharp than it was when she was talking to me, but it’s still enough to cause Ryan’s eyes to snap open and blink up at her, looking dazed and sleepy and maybe a little irritated.
“He’s Brendon.” Ryan’s voice is thick and slurred, but my name comes fast to his lips.
She rolls her eyes. “Yes, I know,” she retorts, and her tone makes it sound like she’s talking down to a little kid. I don’t like it. “But what is he doing here?”
Ryan bites his lip and turns to me.
Great. I’m supposed to answer…
“Uh…I’m here because…uh…I’m closest, and no one else was here, and I thought me might be lonely?” She glares straight into my skull. Wrong answer.
“Well I would have been here.” She’s turned her glare towards Ryan now. “If anyone had bothered to call me and tell me that my boyfriend was in the freaking hospital!”
I think my excuse is clear on that one; I didn’t even know she existed, so I step back a bit to let them…work out their issues.
“I can’t believe you didn’t tell me!”
“I-I thought. Well. I was, I was here,” Ryan gestures shakily about the room. “I thought, I thought someone would…I-I don’t know.” She’s still shooting daggers, so he adds an “I’m sorry” in a resigned voice.
She looks briefly upward, as if asking the ceiling what his problem is, but gives in with a huffy “fine”.
Ryan lets out his breath in a small sigh, and I can see him relax a little into his pillow, glad to have sidestepped her fury. His relief is short lived, however.
“By the way, why are you here? What happened to you?” There’s a bit of concern in her voice; I have to admit, rather grudgingly, to myself. Maybe, just maybe, she cares about Ryan and was scared to see him in the hospital. “I mean, you didn’t show up for our date after that competition thingy of yours,” she waves it off carelessly. Ryan flinches. “And I had to cancel that meeting so I could go out with you, you know?”
Yeah. Scratch that last thought.
“Yeah, I know.” Ryan’s voice is quiet, and even I can tell that he just wants out of this. Out of all of this. This giant, stupid, allmyfault, mess. I can tell that, and I’ve only known him, really, a few days.
“So,” she points toward his leg that’s propped up and covered in plaster now. “What’d you do?”
“Um…well, it was an accident.” Ryan’s good leg is jiggling nervously under the sheets, and his eyes dart around the room, carefully not finding my face. I back up even more, until my knees hit the back of one of the chairs and I sink into it, making myself as invisible as I possibly can. “I-uh, I was warming up, you know, for my competition, and, uh, I fell. And my leg got cut. Somebody. Somebody - accidentally - ran over my leg with, um, their blade…” His voice trails off into almost nothing and for some reason he sounds almost embarrassed to admit this. I hate myself.
“So. Somebody fucked up your leg?” Her hip is cocked and she looks quite furious. I can’t quite figure out why; I was under the impression she didn’t really care about Ryan’s skating life. “Who was it?”
Oh god. I can almost hear Ryan’s nervous swallow from all the way across the room.
“Um, it. It’s not important, really.” She glares at him. “R-really, it wasn’t their fault, I was. I fell, and.”
“Ryan. Who was it?” He bites his lip, carefully not meeting her eyes. “Baby, you know I love you, I just don’t want to see you hurt while they’re still perfectly fine.”
I have to hold back a scoff. Can he really, honestly believe that fake, sickly sweet voice when a second ago she was snapping into his face?
“ItwasBrendon.”
Hmm. I guess he can.