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a screw up.
that's all he would ever be.
He'd heard it from the mouths of everyone he ever got close to.
a screw up.
a mess up.
he felt fucked up.

And why shouldnt he feel fucked up?
he was in a sucessful band.
he was a successful guitarist.
he was in love with a succesful singer.

but one thing was wrong.
the sucessful singer didn't love him back.

the sucessful singer had a sucessful girlfriend.
a model.
a sucessful model.

because of the one inperfection in his otherwise successful life...
he didnt want to think the words.

a screw up.
Brendon's words echo in his mind again.
it was like the unbearable pain of his razor blades.
"youre such a screw up ryan"
a bad cassette tape that kept skipping.

strangely enough, ryan agreed with these words.
he was a screw up.
everything he touched ended up broken.
everyone he got close to ended up broken.

he was sick of pretending.
pretending that nothing was wrong.
pretending that he was happy.
pretending that he didnt die a little each time he touched her.

it was too much.

he had tried this before.
last year.
exactly a year ago today.

he had fought with brendon.
a meaningless quarrel.
neither of them had wanted to be the one to go buy more red bull.
meaningless words.
empty threats.

and then pills.
so many different pills.

down they went.

gasoline.
motor oil.

down they went.

smoke.
so much smoke in ryan's car.

he had breathed it in gratefully.

and then there was jon.
jon and his stupid carpentry.
his obsession with building stuff.

jon looking for the hammer in the garage.
jon's bloodcurdling scream at ryan's dying body in the front seat of his parked car.

and then the hospital.
the stomach pump.
the blood transfusions.
the counseling afterwords.

it had been a long process.
months.
brendon said he couldnt wait.
he had other obligations.
his new girlfriend.
their relationship.
ryan was a screw up.

it had torn ryan apart.

since then, he had made up his mind about what was to be done.
ever since then, he wore a fake smile.
fake words exited his lips.
false actions busied his limbs.
making sure they believed it.
that they believed he was fine.

he wasnt.

everything was ready now.
how ironic that the perfect date should be on the first anniversary of his first attempt.
his first anniversary.
and his last.

everything was ready.
everything was arranged.

he would feel the pain this time.
he would make sure of that.
no easy exit.
no painless parting.
this time would be different.





he stood on the balcony of the penthouse.
the top floor.
the 80th floor.
he had arranged it that way.

the pistol was heavy in his hand.
he climbed onto the thick brick wall surrounding the balcony.
such a nice, quiet night.
not for long.

he took the two bullets from his back pocket.
the bullets that were inscribed with Brendon's name.

He loaded them into the gun.
he took a deep breath.

quick footsteps.

he aimed the pistol at his head.

a frantic voice calling his name.

good.
brendon had found the note then.
another deep breath.

the glass doors behind him are thrown open.
he turns with tears streaming down his cheeks.
brendon is there.
he is clutching ryan's note in his hand, face pale.

"Ryan please please please dont do this please just get down from there please put down that gun. please."

Ryan sends Brendon an apologetic smile.
he turns back to face the fall.
he closes his eyes.
he smiles to himself, one last time.
he pulls the trigger.



his finger never makes it there though.
next thing he knows, he is falling.
he's not alone.

brendon is there.
clutching ryan to him.
falling.

they fall.
and fall.
and fall.

brendon's lips crash against his for a moment.
and then a voice in his ear.

"I love you too."

and then the world goes black around them.