Freaks [13/20]
Title: Freaks [13/20]
Author: spazzyskittles/Tiffany
Rating: PG-13
Pairing: Ryan/Brendon, Jon/Spencer
POV: 1st (Ryan's)
Summary: An accident lands Ryan in the hospital, and he meets Jon, who tells him of a mysterious patient on their floor. There's something not quite right about him, but then again, there's something not quite right about Ryan as well.
Disclaimer: I don’t own Panic at the Disco. This is all just a by-product of an overactive imagination.
Author Notes: This is a completed story and will be updated every other day. Thanks to my beta pinkkchocolate, I couldn't have done it without you.
1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12
Chapter 13
After breakfast the next morning, Dr. Jacobson pays me a visit. “So, Ryan, we’re going to take you down for an x-ray so we can see how you’re healing, plus a couple of tests to see if the infection has fully cleared,” he says and I nod. “But from what I can tell, you might be able to go home as soon as tomorrow.”
He leaves the room, and I blink after him. I’ve barely thought about actually leaving the hospital. Time has flown by and slowed down since I’ve been here.
A nurse comes in with a wheelchair and helps me in so that I can go down to radiology. As she pushes me towards the elevator and past Brendon’s room, I can’t help feeling that maybe I don’t want to go home.
I’ll leave, and Brendon will never talk to me again, forget about me as soon as I’d left. We’re okay when we’re in the hospital; it’s our protective bubble. My secret is safe here. Out in the real world, I don’t stand a chance. We don’t stand a chance.
I can feel my heart constrict as I think about never seeing Brendon again, never feeling his hand in mine, never getting to kiss him again. Saying goodbye, it’ll be hard, really hard, and it’ll hurt so much. But I’ll survive. I have to.
“Ryan?” I look up at the nurse, jolted from my thoughts. She wrinkles her brow, her face softening in concern. “Are you alright?”
When I take a deep breath through my nose, I find myself sniffling, and when I blink, I feel my eyes heavy with moisture. I’m not alright.
“Fine,” I mumble.
There’s a pause before she helps me out of the chair. She has me stand on a platform, holding onto a rod on the wall for support as I shift to a comfortable enough position. Unfortunately, I’m hardly paying attention to what I’m doing since I’ve opened a floodgate of thoughts of leaving and of Brendon. Soon, I’ve got a heavy apron around me to protect me from the radiation, and the x-ray technician comes in to talk to me briefly about what’s going to happen. I barely hear him, but it doesn’t really matter because it’s not like I haven’t had an x-ray taken before.
He leaves the room, firmly shutting the heavy door behind him, and soon, I can hear the machine come to life. The technician’s voice comes through an intercom, telling me to hold as still as I can. It’s not good to think the kind of thoughts I’m thinking at a time like this. I’m starting to dwell on them, causing me to shake a little, mostly the knee on my left leg, my good one, the one supporting me as I stand.
I hear the intercom crackle to life. “Ryan, please do your best to keep still,” the technician says, his voice patient.
I grip the rod a little tighter, hoping to steady myself, but it’s apparently not enough. “Ryan? Is your leg hurting? I know it’s a lot to support with just one fully functional leg, but it’ll be over soon.”
I nod briefly as if that were the reason and take a deep breath, hoping to clear my mind and get this over with. No, my leg isn’t hurting. No, I’m not getting tired. But I hate myself for being so obviously not okay.
I hear a few more clicks and then the sound of the machine powering down, and afterwards, the technician and the nurse come back in. As she’s helping me out of the apron and into the wheelchair, he gives me a reassuring smile and says something along the lines of “Well done.”
-------------------
It seems like I’ve been back in my room for an hour, and I’ve been staring out the window. The TV isn’t on, and there’s no music blasting into my ears from my iPod. To facilitate the whole gazing-sadly-out-the-window thing, my body has unconsciously slumped down into the pillows. And I’m not exactly paying attention to what’s going on outside either. It’s as if I’m seeing beyond what is in front of me, focusing on something so far away that it’s as if it’s not even there.
I hear a shuffling, and it brings me out of my daze as I turn my head to the door.
“Hello, Ryan.” My doctor is back, and he’s smiling congenially at me.
“Hello,” I mutter as I shift so I’m sitting up more.
“Well, I’ve been examining the results from your bloodwork,” he says as he switches on a lighted board on the wall and sticks a couple of x-rays onto it, “and looking at your x-rays. It seems that the infection is gone. Your bones appear to be healing quite nicely too.”
I swallow and take a deep breath. “So what does that mean for me?”
He smiles. “We’re taking you off IV antibiotics, and I’ll prescribe oral antibiotics to make sure the infection has completely cleared your system. You’ll have to keep on them until you run out. It’ll be quite a few more weeks until you can get the cast off, but from what I can tell from your x-rays and with the recommendation of your physical therapist, you’ll be able to lose the crutches. We’ll give you a boot to help you get around. But basically, you’re free to check out as early as tomorrow morning.”
There must be a weird look on my face, probably how you look when your heart has dropped down to your stomach, because Dr. Jacobson’s smile falters a little bit. “It’s good news, Ryan,” he says encouragingly.
Good news. Yes. Now, Ryan, put a smile on your face. You smile at Dr. Jacobson. He’ll be fine with it; after all, he deserves one for putting you back together again.
I give him my best attempt at a smile, though it’s not the kind that happens around Brendon. When I’m around Brendon, I smile because he genuinely makes me feel good. He doesn’t see it, but it’s there. This smile is for my doctor, to reassure him that he’s done an excellent job.
“Thank you, Doctor,” I mumble, and he nods.
After a few more minutes of talking logistics, he leaves. I wait a moment then turn back to my window.
-------------------
I hear the squeak of wheels later in the day and a sudden, “So you’re leaving tomorrow?”
I turn my head, and it’s Jon with a nurse behind him pushing him into the room. “Guess so,” I mutter quietly and stare back out the window.
It’s silent, only the sound of wheels moving closer and then footsteps leaving.
“Ryan.” I look back to find a worried look on Jon’s face. “Shouldn’t you be celebrating? What’s up? I had to hear about it from Spencer, who hasn’t even heard about it from you. Your doctor called him since he’s your ‘In case of emergency’, and he wanted to make sure you were getting picked up tomorrow.”
I swallow and look down, hoping to fold into myself, go back to former habits.
“It’s Brendon, isn’t it?” Jon can’t even see my only response, my eyes shutting tight briefly as a kind of confirmation. “What are you going to do?”
“We’ll say goodbye,” I tell him, my voice strangely hoarse. “And that’ll be that.”
I look up, and Jon’s shaking his head, his brow furrowed. “Not a chance, Ryan.”
“What are you saying?” I ask.
“He won’t let you disappear from his life like that. And you don’t want that to happen either.”
He’s struck a nerve, but I try not to let it show. “What do you mean? That’s been my plan all along. Besides, he won’t miss me.”
I’m startled when Jon’s fist connects with my bedside table. I’ve never seen calm, affable Jon act this way before. “Damn it, Ryan. Stop fucking lying to yourself. You mean everything to him, and he’s going to be really upset about this.”
So far, I’ve only been thinking about how I’m going to feel when I leave. Only now has it occurred to me that Brendon will still be here. Alone.
“Jon, you can keep him company while you’re here, right?”
He gives me an exasperated sigh. “That’s not the fucking point, Ryan. Of course I would, but you’re different. He’ll be devastated without you.”
Me.
“So your big plan is to just say goodbye to him? You won’t visit him or call him or give him your number so he can call you? You’ll just cut all ties with him, never look back?”
I don’t even nod. My silence is enough.
“And you won’t tell him why? You’ll just leave him with this huge lie?”
Again, silence.
“How could you possibly do that to him?” His voice is an angry whisper, and it cuts through me harshly.
I don’t say it out loud, but I know the answer.
I’m a monster. I’ve always believed myself to be one, and now, it’s showing from within.
--------------------
The nurse tugs the last Velcro strap across the boot and makes a couple of adjustments before saying, “Okay, Ryan. You’re ready to roam around without your crutches.”
I get up, and my leg feels oddly supported. The boot rocks me forward a little as I walk, but I don’t seem to have too much trouble getting around. It’s a relief, a small one, but a relief nonetheless. I don’t have to worry about the dull ache under my armpits that sometimes happens or the problem of how to carry things with me.
When the nurse leaves, I make my way over to the mirror, and like always, I have a hard time looking at myself through it. But this time, it’s not so much the scar and the disfigurement, but the person beneath it that I can’t face. I hate myself for what I’m about to do. I’m so fucking selfish, and this lie has gotten so big that there is no way to escape it. No matter what, I’m going to hurt him. It’s already hurting me.
After I run my finger quickly over my scar, the action more or less there to taunt myself, I tear my eyes away, square my shoulders, and make my way out of the room.
Soon, I come up to Brendon’s room, but I pause at his door because I can hear something coming from it. His door is rarely closed, but these doors are hardly soundproof.
It sounds as if he’s humming or maybe singing softly. It’s confirmed when I hear definite words as I press closely into the wooden door. It’s a song I know.
We might kiss when we are alone
When nobody's watching
We might take it home
I’m finding it hard to breathe. I’ve never heard him sing before, and Brendon’s voice is just… beautiful.
We might make out when nobody's there
It's not that we're scared
It's just that it's delicate
I can feel my heart stretching, this close to tearing in half.
So why do you fill my sorrow
With the words you've borrowed
From the only place you've known
Brendon is hitting close to home, each lovely sound almost like a knife, and he doesn’t even know it.
And why do you sing Hallelujah
If it means nothing to you?
Why do you sing with me at all?
I lean my head onto the door, softly whispering along to the song and barely acknowledging the irony of it.
His voice lowers so that it sounds like he’s humming again, and it gives me enough time to compose myself. I step back from the door, take a couple of deep breaths, and wipe away whatever moisture is hanging at the corners of my eyes.
I can’t do this to Brendon.
I can’t.
One more deep breath, and I knock at his door. The humming stops suddenly at the sound, and I hear a tentative “Come in.”
I open the door, and he’s got a curious expression on his face. “Hi, Brendon,” I say, attempting to not make it seem like I practically broke down at his door.
“Ryan?” he asks, as if not completely sure it’s me.
“Yeah, Bren,” I say as I make my way over to him.
He frowns. “Where are your crutches?”
I stop. “How did you know I don’t have my crutches?”
“Usually, I can hear the tips squeaking on the linoleum, and they kind of thud when you set them down. Now, it’s like a soft shuffling sound.”
I look down at my feet then back up as I resume my trip towards him. “Oh,” I say, and when I get there, I grab his hand and give him a soft kiss to his temple. “Well, my doctor said I don’t need them anymore. I’ve got a boot on to support me, but that’s it.”
“Oh, wow,” Brendon says as his thumb runs over my fingers, a soft smile on his face. “That’s great, Ryan. You’re healing.”
I sigh since it looks like I’m not going to be wasting any time. “Look, Brendon. About that-”
“That’s never good,” I hear him mumble, the smile disappearing.
“Brendon,” I say, insistent. He lifts his head, and it’s as if he can see me. He’s facing me completely, and I know he really can’t see me, but I can still feel him staring me down.
“Brendon,” I say again, “I’m going home tomorrow. I don’t need to be here anymore.”
He bows his head in thought then, after a moment, lifts it again. “What’s going to happen then, after you leave?”
“You don’t have to worry about being alone, I promise. I know Jon will keep you company. You guys are friends, right? So he’ll-”
“No,” he interrupts, and I shut up. “I mean, what does that mean for us?”
And I stare ahead when I realize that, somehow, Brendon and I became an us. I’m not sure of the exact moment it happened, but it’s true. It’s there in the way I gave him a kiss hello when I walked in. It’s there in the way he is holding onto my hand right now. I swallow and remember my quiet episode out in the hall by his door.
I can’t.
I clear my throat, and my head tells me that it’s time to end this us that was created when someone was asleep on the job. But, instead, I find myself saying, “How about I call you? When I get out of here, I’ll call you. And…” I shut my eyes, feeling the mistake that I’m making, “And I’ll come visit. I have to do physical therapy a few times a week as an outpatient, so it’s not like I won’t be back any time soon.”
“What about after that?” he asks quietly.
I bite my lip, unsure about the answer to that. “How about we figure that out later?”
I’m hoping that, for now, it’s enough. It has to be.
“Okay,” he says, and a smile is back on his face. It’s small, and I wish he were full out grinning for me. But it’s enough.
-----------------
A/N:
The song Brendon sings is Delicate by Damien Rice. You can find it on the Freaks Soundtrack Part 1 post. I think Part 2 will be posted with Chapter 16; it's probably the most important chapter. Since I posted Part 1, I've added 3 songs to it since I keep finding music that works for this story. I had him sing Delicate here for a few reasons, mostly because it needed to be a sad song and I tend to associate that song with Ryden (the words seem to be straight out of those bandfics where Ryan and Brendon are fooling around behind everyone's backs, am I right?).
I want to take this opportunity just to say thank you to everyone who's currently reading this story. I have to say that I never expect people to like anything I write, and though some of the ideas for the story are borrowed, this is my interpretation and these are my characters and they've all sat in my head for a good six months so it's nice to see that it's being well-received. I'll do this again much better towards the end when I'm feeling really sentimental.
The general consensus is that Ryan needs to tell Brendon lol. Oh, he knows. I'm just going to nudge everyone into remembering that Ryan's assumptions are not completely unfounded, though we have yet to see it firsthand.
Lastly, I guess it's time to announce that Chapter 20 is not the last of this story. Almost right after I finished, I knew there were going to still be some unanswered questions, but with a 1st person narrative, there's just a lot that Ryan does not know. No, there won't be a sequel, just certain elaborations in a different POV.
Author: spazzyskittles/Tiffany
Rating: PG-13
Pairing: Ryan/Brendon, Jon/Spencer
POV: 1st (Ryan's)
Summary: An accident lands Ryan in the hospital, and he meets Jon, who tells him of a mysterious patient on their floor. There's something not quite right about him, but then again, there's something not quite right about Ryan as well.
Disclaimer: I don’t own Panic at the Disco. This is all just a by-product of an overactive imagination.
Author Notes: This is a completed story and will be updated every other day. Thanks to my beta pinkkchocolate, I couldn't have done it without you.
1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12
Chapter 13
After breakfast the next morning, Dr. Jacobson pays me a visit. “So, Ryan, we’re going to take you down for an x-ray so we can see how you’re healing, plus a couple of tests to see if the infection has fully cleared,” he says and I nod. “But from what I can tell, you might be able to go home as soon as tomorrow.”
He leaves the room, and I blink after him. I’ve barely thought about actually leaving the hospital. Time has flown by and slowed down since I’ve been here.
A nurse comes in with a wheelchair and helps me in so that I can go down to radiology. As she pushes me towards the elevator and past Brendon’s room, I can’t help feeling that maybe I don’t want to go home.
I’ll leave, and Brendon will never talk to me again, forget about me as soon as I’d left. We’re okay when we’re in the hospital; it’s our protective bubble. My secret is safe here. Out in the real world, I don’t stand a chance. We don’t stand a chance.
I can feel my heart constrict as I think about never seeing Brendon again, never feeling his hand in mine, never getting to kiss him again. Saying goodbye, it’ll be hard, really hard, and it’ll hurt so much. But I’ll survive. I have to.
“Ryan?” I look up at the nurse, jolted from my thoughts. She wrinkles her brow, her face softening in concern. “Are you alright?”
When I take a deep breath through my nose, I find myself sniffling, and when I blink, I feel my eyes heavy with moisture. I’m not alright.
“Fine,” I mumble.
There’s a pause before she helps me out of the chair. She has me stand on a platform, holding onto a rod on the wall for support as I shift to a comfortable enough position. Unfortunately, I’m hardly paying attention to what I’m doing since I’ve opened a floodgate of thoughts of leaving and of Brendon. Soon, I’ve got a heavy apron around me to protect me from the radiation, and the x-ray technician comes in to talk to me briefly about what’s going to happen. I barely hear him, but it doesn’t really matter because it’s not like I haven’t had an x-ray taken before.
He leaves the room, firmly shutting the heavy door behind him, and soon, I can hear the machine come to life. The technician’s voice comes through an intercom, telling me to hold as still as I can. It’s not good to think the kind of thoughts I’m thinking at a time like this. I’m starting to dwell on them, causing me to shake a little, mostly the knee on my left leg, my good one, the one supporting me as I stand.
I hear the intercom crackle to life. “Ryan, please do your best to keep still,” the technician says, his voice patient.
I grip the rod a little tighter, hoping to steady myself, but it’s apparently not enough. “Ryan? Is your leg hurting? I know it’s a lot to support with just one fully functional leg, but it’ll be over soon.”
I nod briefly as if that were the reason and take a deep breath, hoping to clear my mind and get this over with. No, my leg isn’t hurting. No, I’m not getting tired. But I hate myself for being so obviously not okay.
I hear a few more clicks and then the sound of the machine powering down, and afterwards, the technician and the nurse come back in. As she’s helping me out of the apron and into the wheelchair, he gives me a reassuring smile and says something along the lines of “Well done.”
-------------------
It seems like I’ve been back in my room for an hour, and I’ve been staring out the window. The TV isn’t on, and there’s no music blasting into my ears from my iPod. To facilitate the whole gazing-sadly-out-the-window thing, my body has unconsciously slumped down into the pillows. And I’m not exactly paying attention to what’s going on outside either. It’s as if I’m seeing beyond what is in front of me, focusing on something so far away that it’s as if it’s not even there.
I hear a shuffling, and it brings me out of my daze as I turn my head to the door.
“Hello, Ryan.” My doctor is back, and he’s smiling congenially at me.
“Hello,” I mutter as I shift so I’m sitting up more.
“Well, I’ve been examining the results from your bloodwork,” he says as he switches on a lighted board on the wall and sticks a couple of x-rays onto it, “and looking at your x-rays. It seems that the infection is gone. Your bones appear to be healing quite nicely too.”
I swallow and take a deep breath. “So what does that mean for me?”
He smiles. “We’re taking you off IV antibiotics, and I’ll prescribe oral antibiotics to make sure the infection has completely cleared your system. You’ll have to keep on them until you run out. It’ll be quite a few more weeks until you can get the cast off, but from what I can tell from your x-rays and with the recommendation of your physical therapist, you’ll be able to lose the crutches. We’ll give you a boot to help you get around. But basically, you’re free to check out as early as tomorrow morning.”
There must be a weird look on my face, probably how you look when your heart has dropped down to your stomach, because Dr. Jacobson’s smile falters a little bit. “It’s good news, Ryan,” he says encouragingly.
Good news. Yes. Now, Ryan, put a smile on your face. You smile at Dr. Jacobson. He’ll be fine with it; after all, he deserves one for putting you back together again.
I give him my best attempt at a smile, though it’s not the kind that happens around Brendon. When I’m around Brendon, I smile because he genuinely makes me feel good. He doesn’t see it, but it’s there. This smile is for my doctor, to reassure him that he’s done an excellent job.
“Thank you, Doctor,” I mumble, and he nods.
After a few more minutes of talking logistics, he leaves. I wait a moment then turn back to my window.
-------------------
I hear the squeak of wheels later in the day and a sudden, “So you’re leaving tomorrow?”
I turn my head, and it’s Jon with a nurse behind him pushing him into the room. “Guess so,” I mutter quietly and stare back out the window.
It’s silent, only the sound of wheels moving closer and then footsteps leaving.
“Ryan.” I look back to find a worried look on Jon’s face. “Shouldn’t you be celebrating? What’s up? I had to hear about it from Spencer, who hasn’t even heard about it from you. Your doctor called him since he’s your ‘In case of emergency’, and he wanted to make sure you were getting picked up tomorrow.”
I swallow and look down, hoping to fold into myself, go back to former habits.
“It’s Brendon, isn’t it?” Jon can’t even see my only response, my eyes shutting tight briefly as a kind of confirmation. “What are you going to do?”
“We’ll say goodbye,” I tell him, my voice strangely hoarse. “And that’ll be that.”
I look up, and Jon’s shaking his head, his brow furrowed. “Not a chance, Ryan.”
“What are you saying?” I ask.
“He won’t let you disappear from his life like that. And you don’t want that to happen either.”
He’s struck a nerve, but I try not to let it show. “What do you mean? That’s been my plan all along. Besides, he won’t miss me.”
I’m startled when Jon’s fist connects with my bedside table. I’ve never seen calm, affable Jon act this way before. “Damn it, Ryan. Stop fucking lying to yourself. You mean everything to him, and he’s going to be really upset about this.”
So far, I’ve only been thinking about how I’m going to feel when I leave. Only now has it occurred to me that Brendon will still be here. Alone.
“Jon, you can keep him company while you’re here, right?”
He gives me an exasperated sigh. “That’s not the fucking point, Ryan. Of course I would, but you’re different. He’ll be devastated without you.”
Me.
“So your big plan is to just say goodbye to him? You won’t visit him or call him or give him your number so he can call you? You’ll just cut all ties with him, never look back?”
I don’t even nod. My silence is enough.
“And you won’t tell him why? You’ll just leave him with this huge lie?”
Again, silence.
“How could you possibly do that to him?” His voice is an angry whisper, and it cuts through me harshly.
I don’t say it out loud, but I know the answer.
I’m a monster. I’ve always believed myself to be one, and now, it’s showing from within.
--------------------
The nurse tugs the last Velcro strap across the boot and makes a couple of adjustments before saying, “Okay, Ryan. You’re ready to roam around without your crutches.”
I get up, and my leg feels oddly supported. The boot rocks me forward a little as I walk, but I don’t seem to have too much trouble getting around. It’s a relief, a small one, but a relief nonetheless. I don’t have to worry about the dull ache under my armpits that sometimes happens or the problem of how to carry things with me.
When the nurse leaves, I make my way over to the mirror, and like always, I have a hard time looking at myself through it. But this time, it’s not so much the scar and the disfigurement, but the person beneath it that I can’t face. I hate myself for what I’m about to do. I’m so fucking selfish, and this lie has gotten so big that there is no way to escape it. No matter what, I’m going to hurt him. It’s already hurting me.
After I run my finger quickly over my scar, the action more or less there to taunt myself, I tear my eyes away, square my shoulders, and make my way out of the room.
Soon, I come up to Brendon’s room, but I pause at his door because I can hear something coming from it. His door is rarely closed, but these doors are hardly soundproof.
It sounds as if he’s humming or maybe singing softly. It’s confirmed when I hear definite words as I press closely into the wooden door. It’s a song I know.
We might kiss when we are alone
When nobody's watching
We might take it home
I’m finding it hard to breathe. I’ve never heard him sing before, and Brendon’s voice is just… beautiful.
We might make out when nobody's there
It's not that we're scared
It's just that it's delicate
I can feel my heart stretching, this close to tearing in half.
So why do you fill my sorrow
With the words you've borrowed
From the only place you've known
Brendon is hitting close to home, each lovely sound almost like a knife, and he doesn’t even know it.
And why do you sing Hallelujah
If it means nothing to you?
Why do you sing with me at all?
I lean my head onto the door, softly whispering along to the song and barely acknowledging the irony of it.
His voice lowers so that it sounds like he’s humming again, and it gives me enough time to compose myself. I step back from the door, take a couple of deep breaths, and wipe away whatever moisture is hanging at the corners of my eyes.
I can’t do this to Brendon.
I can’t.
One more deep breath, and I knock at his door. The humming stops suddenly at the sound, and I hear a tentative “Come in.”
I open the door, and he’s got a curious expression on his face. “Hi, Brendon,” I say, attempting to not make it seem like I practically broke down at his door.
“Ryan?” he asks, as if not completely sure it’s me.
“Yeah, Bren,” I say as I make my way over to him.
He frowns. “Where are your crutches?”
I stop. “How did you know I don’t have my crutches?”
“Usually, I can hear the tips squeaking on the linoleum, and they kind of thud when you set them down. Now, it’s like a soft shuffling sound.”
I look down at my feet then back up as I resume my trip towards him. “Oh,” I say, and when I get there, I grab his hand and give him a soft kiss to his temple. “Well, my doctor said I don’t need them anymore. I’ve got a boot on to support me, but that’s it.”
“Oh, wow,” Brendon says as his thumb runs over my fingers, a soft smile on his face. “That’s great, Ryan. You’re healing.”
I sigh since it looks like I’m not going to be wasting any time. “Look, Brendon. About that-”
“That’s never good,” I hear him mumble, the smile disappearing.
“Brendon,” I say, insistent. He lifts his head, and it’s as if he can see me. He’s facing me completely, and I know he really can’t see me, but I can still feel him staring me down.
“Brendon,” I say again, “I’m going home tomorrow. I don’t need to be here anymore.”
He bows his head in thought then, after a moment, lifts it again. “What’s going to happen then, after you leave?”
“You don’t have to worry about being alone, I promise. I know Jon will keep you company. You guys are friends, right? So he’ll-”
“No,” he interrupts, and I shut up. “I mean, what does that mean for us?”
And I stare ahead when I realize that, somehow, Brendon and I became an us. I’m not sure of the exact moment it happened, but it’s true. It’s there in the way I gave him a kiss hello when I walked in. It’s there in the way he is holding onto my hand right now. I swallow and remember my quiet episode out in the hall by his door.
I can’t.
I clear my throat, and my head tells me that it’s time to end this us that was created when someone was asleep on the job. But, instead, I find myself saying, “How about I call you? When I get out of here, I’ll call you. And…” I shut my eyes, feeling the mistake that I’m making, “And I’ll come visit. I have to do physical therapy a few times a week as an outpatient, so it’s not like I won’t be back any time soon.”
“What about after that?” he asks quietly.
I bite my lip, unsure about the answer to that. “How about we figure that out later?”
I’m hoping that, for now, it’s enough. It has to be.
“Okay,” he says, and a smile is back on his face. It’s small, and I wish he were full out grinning for me. But it’s enough.
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A/N:
The song Brendon sings is Delicate by Damien Rice. You can find it on the Freaks Soundtrack Part 1 post. I think Part 2 will be posted with Chapter 16; it's probably the most important chapter. Since I posted Part 1, I've added 3 songs to it since I keep finding music that works for this story. I had him sing Delicate here for a few reasons, mostly because it needed to be a sad song and I tend to associate that song with Ryden (the words seem to be straight out of those bandfics where Ryan and Brendon are fooling around behind everyone's backs, am I right?).
I want to take this opportunity just to say thank you to everyone who's currently reading this story. I have to say that I never expect people to like anything I write, and though some of the ideas for the story are borrowed, this is my interpretation and these are my characters and they've all sat in my head for a good six months so it's nice to see that it's being well-received. I'll do this again much better towards the end when I'm feeling really sentimental.
The general consensus is that Ryan needs to tell Brendon lol. Oh, he knows. I'm just going to nudge everyone into remembering that Ryan's assumptions are not completely unfounded, though we have yet to see it firsthand.
Lastly, I guess it's time to announce that Chapter 20 is not the last of this story. Almost right after I finished, I knew there were going to still be some unanswered questions, but with a 1st person narrative, there's just a lot that Ryan does not know. No, there won't be a sequel, just certain elaborations in a different POV.