A break-up story. Kinda... It's Ryden/Rydon.
Why had we broken up? Why had we broken up? WHY THE HELL HAD WE BROKEN UP?! I couldn’t answer myself. I would let myself. It was weird, because the shards of broken mirrors scattered across the floor had never looked so good. Why I hadn’t listened to Pete, I’ll never know. He told me we were so perfect for each other, it didn’t matter that I threw Brendon out after getting him really drunk. It didn’t matter that Brendon slept around for three weeks, trying to get some cash. It didn’t matter that I broke down when the front door opened and a stoned Brendon stumbled in. None of that mattered. I apologised and everything was fine. That was, of course, until I woke up in Pete’s bed two weeks later. I thought that Brendon would understand and that he’d be fine with it. Fine with his boyfriend cheating on him? I think not. He smashed the mirrors and called me a dirty, filthy liar. He stormed out of the house and left me there in the corner of the bedroom we once shared, crying my eyes out. I had reached for the phone, and dialled Pete’s number, my hands shaking. I explained what happened, and I could hear him crying. All he said to me was ‘I’m so sorry man. I was drunk! I’d never purposely cheat on Patrick, and I know how much you love Brendon’. You know, I kind of felt sorry for Pete. The first time in 13 years that he gets drunk, he cheats on his boyfriend. You can’t get much worse than that, can you?
So… anyway… I was sitting in my room, surrounded by smashed mirrors, talking to Pete. Suddenly, for no reason at all, I threw the phone across the room and curled up, letting my hair fall into my face. I lifted a small, sharp broken piece of the mirror and made a few deep cuts. I’m not sure if I passed out or if I fell asleep.
That was two months ago. Yesterday I heard that Brendon attempted suicide because he regretted leaving me. I’m going to see him in the hospital now, because I’d give anything to have him back in my arms again.