"Spencer closed his eyes, wishing this all would just end..."
Spencer couldn’t think of what to say. He knew how much Brendon loved Ryan. Nothing he could say would make things any better. Only time could heal this wound... and a lot of it.
“Bren...” he sat across the table, and folded his hands, “I know I can’t say anything to make you feel better. But just know that I’m here, okay?”
Brendon smiled at his friend, thanking God that Spencer was as kind as he was.
“Thanks.” Brendon’s voice was weak and coarse. Spencer nodded, getting up from his chair, and walking across his hotel room. It was a good thing they had decided to reserve two rooms instead of squeezing into one like they usually did. He glanced back at Brendon again, to see him staring out the window. He sighed, and walked down the hallway.
He knocked on their door impatiently. It creaked open, and Jon poked his head out. He opened it the rest of the way, allowing Spencer to walk inside. Spencer walked inbetween the two beds, looking down at Ryan who was laying in a ball on one of them. Jon followed him in and sat on the opposite bed. Spencer let out a deep breath.
“I don’t know how the fuck we’re supposed to play tomorrow night.” He admitted. Ryan’s eyes were open, staring off. He didn’t even acknowledge Spencer’s existence.
“Well, we have to.” Jon said.
“Obviously.” Spencer snapped. Jon looked away from him and sighed. “You guys seriously fucked up.”
“Yeah, we know.” Jon shook his head.
“Well, he’s going to stay with me tonight, that’s for sure. Hopefully tomorrow he can put on a game face and get the show done.” Spencer said, turning to leave the room.
“I do love him.” Ryan said, making Spencer pause. Spencer turned back to Ryan, to find his eyes looking up at him.
“You chose a weird way to show it.” Spencer sighed, turning back to the door and leaving.
Ryan burst into tears again. How could he have been so stupid? How could he have gone so far?
Jon walked over and sat on the bed next to Ryan. He put a hand on his shoulder.
“Please, don’t touch me.” Ryan whispered through his tears. Jon withdrew his hand, a little hurt. Brendon already hated his guts, he didn’t need Ryan to also. He loved Ryan. Always had. He had been a good guy, and not interfered in their relationship. He had waited. But when Ryan came to him after he and Brendon had been fighting, he couldn’t hold back anymore. Jon bit his lip, not allowing himself to cry. He was stronger than that. He’d dealt with Ryan rejecting him for a while... he could do it a little longer.
Spencer walked the short distance back to the room. He walked through the door, and glanced at the table. Brendon wasn’t sitting there. His glass of water sat, half empty, and the chair was moved back. Spencer glanced around.
“Bren?” He called out. No response. He poked his head back out into the hallway, “Brendon?”
He looked back inside, and heard a coughing noise from the back of the room. He walked in, and stood outside the bathroom door.
“Bren, are you in there?” He knocked. He heard Brendon coughing inside. He turned the handle and pushed the door in.
Brendon was sitting on the floor, leaning over the toilet.
“Oh shit, Bren. I’m here.” Spencer said, grabbing a hand towel from the counter and running it under the faucet. He rung out the water, and then placed it lightly on the back of Brendon’s neck and sat down next to him. He ran his hand up and down his back, watching as Brendon heaved into the water. Spencer closed his eyes, wishing this would all just end. He couldn’t handle being the only sane one in the group.
Brendon’s stomach continued to clench forcefully, but nothing would come up. He couldn’t get a breath in , and he couldn’t stop the heaving. He closed his eyes and tried to focus on the hand rubbing his back. His stomach clenched one more time, before he gasped in a breath and it stopped. He spit into the toilet, and then sat back, leaning against Spencer. Spencer wrapped his arms around him.
“I’m sorry.” Brendon whispered, “You shouldn’t have to take care of me.” He could feel the tears coming again. The last thing he wanted to do was burden the last true friend he had. Spencer hushed him, wiping away a tear on his cheek.
“Of course I’m going to take care of you,” Spencer rested his chin in Brendon’s hair, “You can’t make yourself sick like this, Bren.”
“I didn’t mean to.” Brendon cried. Spencer rubbed his hand on Brendon’s arm.
“I know. I know.”
“Nothing would come up.” Brendon explained, trying to force his tears to stop.
“You don’t have anything left in you,” Spencer agreed, “You’re going to lie down, and I’ll go buy you something to eat.”
Brendon shook his head, “I can’t.”
Spencer bit his lip but understood, “Fine. I’ll go buy you something to drink at least. In case you have to throw up again, at least you won’t just spit up your own guts.” Spencer tried to lighten the mood. He felt Brendon laugh a little.
“I said nothing came up, not my intestines.”
“Either way,” Spencer started to let go of Brendon, and stand up. Brendon stood with him, using his forearms to balance, “You still need something in there.”
Brendon looked into his friends eyes, and couldn’t help crying a little more. Spencer’s brow furrowed in confusion. Before Spencer could ask what was wrong, Brendon hugged him tightly.
“Thank you.” He whispered into his ear.