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Ryan's POV. (WHHOOOOO. A CHANGE IN POV. :D)

-three weeks later-

Oh, god, please let him wake up. Don't let him die.

It was three weeks after the accident, and he hadn't woken up once. I'd barely moved from his side, only leaving to use the restroom a few times. I grasped his hand tightly, waiting impatiently for him to squeeze my hand back. Just a little movement, please. Please. For what must have been the fifth time in the past minute, I ran my eyes over his injuries, looking for any sign of healing. The whole right side of his face was bruised, his cheekbone and temple still looking sunken from when they had been shattered. His beautiful lips were cut and an almost bluish color, contrasting against his unusually pale skin. Earlier I had ran my fingertips along his bottom lip, and was surprised when they were cold to the touch. His collarbone had been snapped, and it lined up a bit differently from before. The doctors hadn't been able to get it back perfectly, but it wouldn't hurt him. One arm was in a thick cast, broken in three different places. I pulled his shirt up and observed a long scar running across his torso. It was still sewn up, a dark red from the blood. It wasn't getting any better. I let his shirt drop with a sigh. Both of his legs were in casts, one was broken in two places, the other had a shattered kneecap and a deep cut along his thigh. Not to mention the extensive internal bleeding he had. Luckily the doctors had been able to get that under control before it became too serious.

Suddenly I felt weak movement in my hand. Brendon's fingers twitched a few times then curled around mine.
"R-r-ryan?"
I sighed with relief. "Bren." I put more pressure on his hand, fighting back tears of happiness.
He whimpered quietly. "It h-hurts."
"I know it does Bren. I know." A tear ran down my cheek, this time out of guilt. If it wasn't for me, Brendon would be fine.
"R-ryan, I want to tell you... Just in case... in case I don't wake up again."
"Don't talk like that. You'll be fine."
"I don't know. I-i really don't f-feel good. ...I-i just w-wanted t-to tell you. I l-love you. S-so much."
"I love you too Bren." I leaned down and kissed him softly, surprised again by how cold his lips were. "But don't talk like this. You'll be perfectly fine. Trust me."
"I d-do trust you Ryan." He paused for a moment, then spoke again. "Ryan?"
"Yeah?"
"How long have you been sitting here?"
"The whole time you've been here." I replied.
"W-would you do me a favor?" I noted that his voice sounded weaker, and concern stirred in my mind.
I nodded. "Of course. What is it?"
"Will you leave?"

My heart broke at his words. He didn't want me here.

"I-i don't understand."
"Please? J-just go?"

I stood up, still holding his hand. "You want me gone?"
"I do. J-just go. Go home, go to school. Don't worry about me, kay?"
I reluctantly let go of his hand, tears brimming at my eyes. "I guess, if that's what you want."
"I-it is."
"Okay. Um, I'll see you later then."
"I love you Ryan. You'll never know how much."
"I love you too, Bren. Bye." I walked out of his hospital room, wiping tears from my face.

It was the last time I saw him alive.