Flashback time again! This time, it's Ryan's POV! Hooray! (Sort of...)
Reality was a bitch sometimes.
I pulled my old friend out of the cabinet as steady stream of tears began to fall. The glimmering metal was covered with dark, dry stains, reminding me of dark clouds on a formerly-perfect day. I promised them I would stop, but promises are meant to be broken, right?
I remembered their reactions so vividly. Spencer and Jon stared at my arms with matching looks of shock and worry adorning their slightly-bearded faces, but Brendon was the worst. The beautiful smile of his ran away and hid in a deep, dark cave. His pale face went even paler, almost like a ghost. Tears threatened to spill from his big brown eyes down his once-rosy cheeks. His lower lip trembled not unlike a child who just gave up their teddy bear. I wanted to be his teddy bear. I wanted to hug him tightly against myself and tell him that everything would be alright.
Before I could say anything, he ran to his room and locked the door. I tried to get him to come out, but he refused. Finally, he screamed at me to leave him alone. Something about the wavering of his voice made me back away, and I knew that I blew it. Brendon had loved me, but my cutting was too much baggage for him.
When he finally let Spencer in, I watched them silently from the doorway. Heavy sobs racked Brendon’s slim figure violently, sending waves of remorse crashing over me. Spencer kept rubbing his back and murmuring something to him until he was quiet. Brendon fell asleep shortly after, his soft snores drifting towards me melodiously. Only then did Spencer turn to glare at me like a mama bear guarding her cub.
“Promise you’ll stop.”
“For him, Ry. Do it for Brendon.”
“Fine. I promise.”
So I stopped, until now. I pushed away any guilty thoughts and dragged the blade across my arm. A trail of blood appeared, but not enough to push away the memory of Brendon’s troubled face. I urged the metal deeper, searing pain shooting through my arm. The bathroom lighting grew harsher, nearly blinding me. I closed my eyes. Brendon’s face was gone, but the ground came up and took its place. I mustered all my strength and rolled onto my back. Maybe I was dying. Or already dead. I didn’t care. Now that I was dead Brendon wouldn’t have to worry about me.
“Ryan! Are you in there?” it sounded like someone was calling from underwater.
"Ry?" the voiced called again, this time quieter.
I groaned, unable to straighten my jumbled thoughts enough to speak.
"Hungover, Ryan?" the question was followed by a gasp and someone shaking me, "Ryan. Fuck. Ry, can you hear me? Oh God, Ryan answer me. Answer me, dammit!"
I suddenly knew who it was.
"Brendon?" I asked weakly.
I opened my eyes to see that face. That teary-eyed face that I was trying to get rid off.
"I'm right here, Ry. Just hold on."
"No! Why are you here? Don't tell me you're dead too! What have I done?" I tried to prop myself up as my mind scrambled to get itself in order.
"Ry, we're not dead. We're in the bathroom." Brendon helped my lean against the wall, holding my hand firmly.
"I'm sorry, Bren. I'm so sorry." a surge of guilt flooded my mind, coming out as a torrent of hot tears and a half-assed apology.
Brendon started panicking a little bit, trying - and failing - to keep his composure.
"Just hold on." he whispered. He shouted something at the door, but my eyelids were growing heavy and my mind was slipping from consciousness. Just then I realized how much I really didn’t want to die. Not with Brendon next to me. It would be too much for him to handle. I guessed that was my punishment; having Brendon beside me in my final moments, when I never told him how much I loved him.
Y'all know how much I love R&R, right?