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Brendon got up, allowing Ryan to sleep in his bead. He walked into the kitchen area, calling Spencer.
"Hello?"
"Can you and Jon come over to Ryan's apartment?" Brendon asked nervously.
"Yeah, why? Is something wrong?" Concern was now filling Spencer's voice.
"Just come over, okay?"
"Yeah, okay, we'll be there in ten minutes." Spencer hung up, and Brendon just stared at the phone in his hands before putting it down and setting to clean up the mess that Ryan had made. He got an old rag, letting it soak up the blood that had been spilled before ringing it out into the sink, that soon became stained red. Once the it was cleaned up, he bleached it, attempting to get the stains off the floor, wall, and sink. It didn't take to much time, just a lot of energy. He looked at the floor, picking up the knife, needle, and the small note. The things that are common on the suicide scene. He unfolded the note, reading the rest. "Tell Brendon that I love him. That I love him more than life it's self, and that's why I had to do this. Because I loved him so much it hurt. Tell them all that this was something I had to do, that living really wasn't an option anymore. That for me, the hardiest part of living is just taking breaths to stay. And that's why I can't. I'm sorry for everyone I've hurt, and everyone I love for getting involved with me. In my defense, this was always going to happen. It was just a matter of time. So sorry about the mess. Ryan Ross." Brendon cried when he finished reading the last of the letters in Ryan's lacy handwriting. Now he knew, if he had been more accepting of his feelings for Ryan, none of this would have ever happened. But he was too close minded, too afraid of the truth to accept it. And now Ryan had done this, another scar made by Ryan because of him. He got up when he heard a soft knock on the door, going over to answer it.
"Why dose it smell like bleach?" Spencer asked stepping into the apartment followed close behind by Jon. Brendon hugged Spencer, latching onto him like he was a little kid.
"He tried to kill himself, and it's all because of me!" Brendon started to cry again, falling to pieces before the others eyes. Spencer hugged Brendon, trying to comfort him.
"You did nothing wrong. He's okay, right?" Spencer asked and Brendon looked over at the closed door that Ryan slept behind and nodded.
"I think he's going to be okay." He said sniffling.
"Let's go check." Jon said walking over to the room, he opened the door. Ryan looked like a little kid, fragile and defenseless. Curled under the blankets, hugging them like they were the only thing that anchored him to the earth. Like without them he would disappear. He was pale and the exact look of death, just barley breathing gagged breaths. Jon walked over to the smaller boy, putting his hand on his forehead to see if he was running a fever. Brendon looked at Spencer, handing him the small note that was by his side.
"This is his suicide note." Spencer took it, reading it over.
"What dose it say?" Jon asked walking over to them. Spencer handed it to Jon, walking over to the bed, picking up the small box that sat there.
"It's not your fault Brendon." Jon said while Spencer started to open the small box. He started to cry, sliding down the wall slowly, holding the small stuffed bear in hand. It was the first time Brendon had ever seen Spencer break down and cry like that. He looked at him, stunned, as Jon walked over and held the now shaking Spencer. Ryan stirred in his sleep, and Brendon walked over, sitting by the bed. Resting his head next to Ryan's, looking at his closed eyes.
"What is it?" Jon asked, and Spencer showed it to him.
"I gave it to him, I can't even remember how many years ago, we had to have been ten....And he kept it all these years."
"Shhh, he's waking up!" Brendon said and the other two looked over at the rustling boy under the covers. Spencer attempted to pull himself together, with the help of Jon, before getting up and walking over to the bed. They all stared at Ryan, waiting to see if he would wake up. He groaned, opening his eyes slowly like it hurt to move his eye lids.
"Bren-" He was interrupted and started vomiting up blood. Jon quickly grabbed a waste basket, holding to to where it caught most of the blood flowing from Ryan's lips. He stopped, and started shaking and crying.
"You okay Ryan?" Spencer asked somewhat worried. He just groaned in response, feeling to sick to say or do anything. Jon left, going to get a wet wash cloth and an icepack for Ryan. Brendon held one of Ryan's hands, felling just how weak he was in the grasp that Ryan had.
"Spencer, do you think you can go get Ryan some water?" Brendon asked, putting his hand on Ryan's forehead. He was burning again. Spencer got up and left the room to do what Brendon asked.
"Why?" Ryan groaned out, looking out in one pained eye. Brendon put his forehead against his, looking him in the eye.
"Why what?"
"Why did you have to save me?" He could barley talk, his voice sketchy and quite, barely a whisper.
"Because I love you." Brendon said on the verge of tears, why would Ryan want to die?
"Do you know how much more pain you put me through by saving me?" When he talked, he gasped after every few words.
"I'm sorry, I'm just a selfish person." Brendon said kissing his forehead gently.
"But it does help to wake up and see your face." Ryan gave a weak smile.
"You should focus on resting." Spencer said, walking in the room followed by Jon. Ryan nodded.
"I know."
"That means to stop talking." Jon said, putting the icepack to Ryan's forehead. Ryan took the glass of water, almost dropping it immediately after getting a hold of it. Spencer held the glass for him, tilting it up slightly so he could drink some out of it.
"Dose that help?" Spencer asked and Ryan shook his head.
"I'm still thirsty." He groaned. It made Spencer's heart break seeing his best friend like this, just about as weak as he could be.
"You should get some rest." Brendon said, ushering the others out of the room. Ryan allowed himself to fall back asleep.
"How exactly did he try and do it?" Spencer asked once they had sat down on the couch in the living room. Brendon was sitting in a chair across from the older two, his legs pulled close to his chest so he could rest his chin on his knees.
"He used a poison, I don't know what it was, but he injected it." Brendon sniffled, trying to keep a steady voice. Spencer nodded, taking a few seconds to think about what kind of poison Ryan would use.
"I bet it was iron." He said slowly. "His kind is deathly allergic to iron, they don't have it in their bloodstream." Jon and Brendon looked at Spencer like he was crazy.
"What do you mean?" Jon asked.
"Did Pete turn him Brendon?" Spencer asked brushing off Jon's question.
"Yeah. Why?"
"If he isn't better by tomorrow, call Pete or Patrick. Okay?" Spencer said, and Brendon got a worried look on his face.
"But he's going to be better....Right?" Brendon asked worried about the fate of the fragile boy sleeping in the other room.
"I honestly can't say."
"Will you two stay here with me till he gets better?" Brendon asked sitting up right.
"Of course we will." Jon said walking over to Brendon who started crying again. He hugged the younger boy as Spencer left the room to go check on Ryan.
Ryan was still asleep in the bed, a pained look on his face. His hair was strewn everywhere, his thin limbs held close to his chest. Spencer sighed, and walked back to Jon and Brendon, who were still hugging.
"He should be fine." Spencer said giving his best reassuring smile he could muster.
"How could this happen?" Brendon asked. Jon shrugged, sitting in his place next to Spencer.
"He was mentally ill, not in a bad way, but in a depressed way." Spencer said with a shrug.
"And if you didn't have the one thing in the world that you wanted, wouldn't you want to kill yourself?" Jon asked. Brendon thought about that, now that he had Ryan, he couldn't think of a world without him. Ryan had always been there for him, taken care of him when he was sick, got him home when he was too drunk to function properly, held him when he cried of the lost of a girl. And now he was sleeping in his room, half dead, with a high fever, and jagged breaths. He really would consider suicide if Ryan didn't make it.
But Ryan had to make it. He always made it through the tough times. Why shouldn't this be any different?