Ryan (the other one) shocks Brendon into a realization that causes him to regret what he's done.
I was hurt, confused, sad, and angry all at the same time. I loved Brendon with all my heart. And when he let me kiss him, I thought everything was okay. I thought he’d given it some thought and he was okay with me being back. I thought everything would be perfect again.
And then he kicked me out. So he really did hate me. Why did he have sex with me if he hated me so much? It made me want to go back to New York, go back to Ryan, and pretend that none of this happened. Why should I stay here when it was obvious that Brendon didn’t want me anymore? If Brendon had moved on, then maybe I should too.
I made my way to the hotel I’d been staying in while I was here in Vegas. I walked in the door and started packing up my stuff. I was pretty sure I left my phone in the car, thinking that I didn’t want to pay attention to anyone or anything. And I didn’t. I wanted to forget about the outside world. The one guy I could imagine being with for the rest of my life now hated me and didn’t want me anymore.
I had finally packed up the last of my things and headed down the stairs. I checked out and the woman gave me the bill. I paid it easily and walked out. I got into my car and didn’t check for my phone. It had probably overheated. I was only in the hotel room for probably three hours. And my phone wasn’t working.
I didn’t care though. I turned on my car and drove off toward the airport. I didn’t care about anything anymore, especially not Brendon. If he didn’t want me, then I wasn’t going to chase after him. It wasn’t my place. I’d lost him three years ago when I left. And it was becoming more and more obvious that he wasn’t going to forgive me, even after I forgave him for what he did to me.
It just pissed me off thinking about this. He fucking raped me and I forgave him. I left for three years and wanted to come back and he acted like I murdered his fucking family. I don’t get it. I don’t think I ever will. I get it. I left, but big deal. I wanted to come back. Doesn’t that mean anything to that fucking thick-headed idiot?
Apparently not. I arrived at the airport and checked the car back in before heading inside. I got my tickets and made my way up to my gate. I sat down in the chair and stared out the window, holding my laptop case which held some of my most personal belongings, like my cell phone, my camera, etc. I almost wanted to cry. That could be the last time I’d ever see Brendon fucking Urie.
After he’d left, I curled into a ball on the bed, a sensation I still wasn’t used to, considering just an hour ago, my legs weren’t working. Tears started to fall from my eyes. Then I heard a vibration somewhere. Assuming it was my phone, I crawled off the bed and reached for it and saw that I didn’t have anything. And then I saw a white iPhone on the ground where Ryan’s clothes had fallen.
He forgot his phone. He forgot his phone and I’d have to get it back to him somehow. Well, one of his friends or coworkers had to know what hotel he was staying in. I was about 95% positive that Ryan wouldn’t give up on trying to get me back. I wasn’t going to give in though. But that meant he’d stay in Vegas.
So I used his phone to call what was named ‘Bill (Assistant)’ in his contacts. I put the phone to my ear. After two rings, there was a voice, “Ryan? Where the fuck are you? Adam is throwing a bitch fit because we need you to help hire interns and you aren’t fucking here! He’s going to bite my head off!”
I took a deep breath, “This isn’t Ryan. I was wondering if you knew what hotel Ryan was staying at…”
The other end was silent, “If he was at the hotel, he would have answered the hotel phone. And he didn’t. So he’s not fucking there. Do YOU know where he is?”
“If I did, why would I be calling you to ask what hotel he’s in?”
The male groaned and hung up. I cursed under my breath. Well, that was useless. I scrolled through his contacts and came upon a ‘Ryan O’Callaghan’ with a little heart next to it. Of course he’d be dating another fucking Irish guy. I didn’t want to call him, but he was the only other one that could give me an answer. So I pressed call.
A shy voice came on the other line, “Hey Ry… Listen… Don’t talk yet. I just need to get this off my chest. I remember what you said. You told me about Brendon one night when you were drunk. And I decided that if you ever brought him up, I’d act like I didn’t know who he was. You kept telling me that you missed him so much and that you loved him more than anything in the world. You even told me that you’d never love me as much as you loved him. And then you started crying because you wanted to go back, but you didn’t think you could. And I get it. Brendon’s back in the picture. That’s why you haven’t talked to me since that interview with him. So if… if you want to break up with me to be with him, I understand. I mean, I’ll be really depressed, but I get it. If you love someone, you have to let them go. And that’s what I’m doing. You mean a lot to me, but I know you don’t feel the same way about me as I do you. The way I feel about you is the way you feel about Brendon… and I don’t want to be the thing standing between you and your true lov—”
“Ryan, stop talking.”
The male stopped, “Who is this?”
“This is Brendon.”
He gasped, “Oh my god. I’m… I’m sorry. He’s having YOU call me to break up with me? How low and immature is that?” he hiccupped. I was pretty sure he was crying. Great, “Just… Just tell him I’ll mail his stuff to your address when I get home. And—”
“For fuck’s sake, stop talking.”
“What hotel is Ryan staying in?”
“Isn’t he with you?”
“No! I don’t KNOW where he is. So just tell me what hotel he’s staying in because… well, it was to give him back his phone… But you just shocked me back into reality and I feel like a complete douche. So just… what hotel is he staying in?”
“Oh… He’s staying at the W.”
“Okay, thank you,” I hung up. What the male had said really did shock me back into reality. So Ryan had been depressed for the last three years? Because he’d left? What kind of an asshole does that to the guy they love? What am I? No, that’s a stupid question. I know what I am. I’m a jerk who just denied the guy that I’m madly in love with.
I crawled over to my wheelchair and got in. I grabbed my phone and called Greta, “Greta, I need you to take me to the W.”
“…I’m a little busy right now.”
“Do you know of anyone that can?”
“Ryan’s not fucking with me!” I yelled into the phone, “And if I don’t find him, I’m going to lose him! So fucking take me to the W!” tears were now rapidly falling down my face because, not only had reality sunk in, but so had the realization that I could lose him. Because what if… what if this was his breaking point? What if he was gone forever? I wasn’t ready to lose the love of my life.
“Okay, okay, Bren, calm down! I’m on my way!” she hung up and I let the phone fall from my face. I put my face in my hands with a hiccup. I hated Ryan, but I loved Ryan. I loved him so much, it was tearing my heart up just thinking that he had cried himself to sleep for the past three years, just like I had. I couldn’t bear the thought.
Greta eventually found her way to my apartment and she went up. She brought me down to her car and I helped myself in. She was shocked, “Wait, you can move your legs?”
“This is so not the time, Greta!”
“Right, yeah, okay,” she got in the driver’s seat and drove off. We got to the W in no time. She helped me out and I rolled in to the desk. I slowly stood so she could see me, “What room is Ryan Ross in?”
The woman did some clicking and then a realization hit her, “He checked out about half an hour ago actually. He said something about the airport, I believe.”
“…The airport?” my voice cracked. He was leaving. And I couldn’t do anything about it. He was leaving and I’d fucked up big time. I sat back down and looked at Greta, “You heard the woman.”
She nodded and rushed me out to the car. Off to the airport we went. I knew he was going to New York. I knew where the company was from. So that was already a step up. I rolled over to the desk and stood up, “I need your soonest ticket to New York.”
“The next flight takes off…” she did some clicking, “in half an hour.”
“I’ll take it.”
“Alright… You might not make it—I only have one.”
I took a deep breath, “That’s fine. I’ll take it.”
Greta looked at me, “But Brendon, how are you…?”
“I can walk. It’ll be hard as fuck and painful, but I’ll do it. I don’t care. I need to get him back. I’m not…” a tear fell down my face, “I’m not losing him again,” and she printed out the ticket when I gave her my card and ID. And with that, I grabbed the walking stick on the back of the wheel chair. (I kept it there in case.)
I made my way to the elevator and waited the long wait up to the third floor. I got there and went as fast as I could through security. I got to the gate and went to the woman when I saw that the next flight leaving from that gate was to Memphis, Tennessee, “What about New York? Isn’t this where that flight is leaving from?”
“That gate has been changed to 11C.”
I muttered some profanity under my breath and made my way there. Just as I got there, I watched Ryan stand up from his seat. I started walking as fast as I could. I wanted to yell his name, but nothing would come out. And then I fell. I couldn’t get up. People were rushing toward me. When I finally got up, he was gone and the doors were closed. The doors were fucking closed. I looked out the window and it pulled away from the airport.
Tears fell down my face. I’d lost Ryan… again.
N/A: Sadness is sad. Three reviews to the next update! In the meantime, read Escort Me?.