FicWad

I lay on the floor for the next two days, occasionally drifting into fitfully unpleasant nightmares, only to wake up sweaty and panting. It was always the same thing: a demon, with the face of my father, chasing an angel, who looked exactly like Ryan, and a lost-looking puppy, who depicted me without a doubt. The demon would always catch up with the angel and destroy it, leaving the puppy looking even more lost than before.

When I was awake, I would let my mind drift aimlessly, unprepared to think about anything in particular. I knew that if I tried to think straight, my thoughts would lead me to the ghost of Ryan's pain-filled expression, which would haunt me for eternity.

Ryan would come in, sit on the bed, and watch me think from time-to-time. I wanted to tell him how sorry I was for worrying him, but every time I formed words in my head, they melted on the tip of my tongue. He would watch my face twist in frustration, and yet he would never say anything to me. He just sat there in silent pain.

I had hurt him so badly and the look in his eyes said it all. His perfect hazel eyes glistened with tears that were constantly on the verge of spilling down his beautifully pale cheeks. Tears of pain, tears of sadness, tears of longing. It was unbearable to look at him.

After two days of watching me, Ryan became fed up.

"You have to eat something, Bren. It's been two days. You must be starving." he announced.

I simply looked away. Frustrated, Ryan got down on the floor and straddled my waist. He cupped my face and forced me to look at him.

"Brendon Boyd Urie! You have not eaten in two days and I need you to eat something now!" Ryan dictated.

Behind the hard tone of his voice, I heard a hint of desperation. Ryan only wanted the best for me, nothing less. Finally, I let him pick me up off the ground and carry me to the kitchen. He set me down in one of the stools by the counter and proceeded to rummage through the fridge. My stomach rumbled loudly and I realized how hungry I really was.

"Told you so." Ryan muttered under his breath.

He set a can of Redbull and a cup of chocolate pudding in front of me in front of me and sat down besides me. I stared at the food for a moment before glancing up at him.

"If you don't eat it I'm going to feed you like a baby. I just need you to eat something." he pleaded somewhat threateningly.

I sighed and looked down at the food that would’ve looked delicious any other day. After a long minute, Ryan sat down next to me and scooped up a spoonful of pudding.

“Open.”

I opened my mouth obediently and let him feed me. This continued until the cup was empty and I couldn't say the same for my stomach. Ryan cracked open the Red Bull and handed it to me. He kept looking at me expectantly so I brought the chilly can to my lips. Syrupy-sweet liquid engulfed my taste buds and I could feel the caffeine kick in. After swallowing, I licked my lips and took another gulp. Another gulp, and another, and another. Finally, the can was bone-dry and I was bouncing up and down in my seat.

Spencer walked into the room, took a quick look at me, and smacked his head.

“You gave him caffeine?!” he yelled almost hysterically.

Ryan’s eyes went wide as he looked at me, the rocket about to blast off. Energy coursed through my veins and I stood up, eyes wild and crazy. I felt the sudden urge to run in circles.

So I did.

“Oh crap, Spence, what do we do?!” I heard Ryan shout.

Spencer took a deep breath, grabbed a bag of popcorn from the pantry, and watched my one-man-show nonchalantly.

“Wait for him to crash, I guess.” he shrugged.

About an hour later, I did.

I collapsed onto the floor and groaned, feeling worse than before.

“Back to square one, Ry.” Spencer’s voice reverberated through my skull, causing my sugar-induced headache to worsen.

My stomach started to do back-flips so I stumbled into the bathroom and closed the door, too exhausted to lock it. I leaned over the toilet just in time to empty the contents of my stomach involuntarily. After flushing, I looked in the medicine cabinet for some aspirin. Something metal glinted in the harsh light and it hit me. I was looking at a switchblade. Stories of people cutting themselves flashed through my mind. They had used cutting as an escape from depression. Well, I'm depressed and need an escape, I thought to myself.

I knew it was a bad idea. It was so wrong, and yet, so right. I was sweating like hell with the blade so tantalizingly close to my fingertips. After a few seconds, I grasped the switchblade in my clammy hand. I sat down in the bathtub and let out a shaky breath.

The sharp blade pricked my skin and traveled across my forearm slowly. A quick, sharp pain shot up my arm and made me forget about my surroundings.

Damn, it felt amazing.

I repeated the motion on both arms, each line blinding me a little more from the depression that lurked inside my heart. The memories of my father beating me, my mother doing nothing to help, and Ryan crying faded and all but disappeared. No more sadness, just calmness and dull pain filled me to the brim. The pain was a fair, if not cheap, price for relief. I was so busy swimming through peaceful thoughts that I didn't notice the door knob start to turn.

"Brendon, are you okay? You've been in the-" an all too familiar voice stopped short.

Ryan opened the door all the way and gasped. I mean, who wouldn't? Especially if their true love was sitting in a bathtub, thin, freshly-cut scars raking across their arms, bloody switchblade in hand.

"Oh, Brenny." he whispered.

I looked up at him, my lip trembling and tears beginning to fall. Ryan closed the door behind him without taking his eyes off of me. He knew he couldn't trust me alone anymore, and I agreed. I couldn't trust myself alone either.

"Bren, hand it over. Now." he walked over cautiously with an outstretched hand.

I shook my head and clutched the blade tighter. In no way was I prepared to let him take away my new-found relief.

"Now, Brendon. Give it to me now." his voice was no longer worried, it was serious and commanding.

I reluctantly handed the blade over to Ryan, looking down and refusing to meet his eyes. He turned to walk out of the room and a whimper escaped my lips. How could he just leave me there? Ryan took a deep breath and turned back to face me. Tears trickled down his face as he lifted the blade to chest level. My breath caught in my throat, the world suddenly spinning. He couldn’t do this to me. He just couldn’t.

I choked back tears of relief as Ryan brought his other arm up and cut a thin path across his forearm. He shivered at the first touch of the blade, then welcomed it like a long-lost friend. I could tell that he had done this before, the way the blade glided across his skin with ease. Beads of crimson blood formed in a line on his arm and he sighed with closed eyes. The pain was relief for him as well.

Ryan's eyes snapped open and he pulled the switchblade away almost impulsively. He placed it on the counter and looked up at me with a look of regret and guilt etched into his features.

"I'm so sorry Brendon. I'm such a hypocrite," he whispered, and I could only shake my head as if to tell him not to be sorry, "it's just...seeing you like that..."

Without another word, he stepped into the bathtub and sat down with me. He pulled me onto his lap with one arm snaked around my waist and one hand on my head protectively. Finally, I spoke.

"I'm the one who should be sorry, Ry. I didn't think that you would-" I broke off into soft sobs.

"Hush, please stop crying. Please just stop for me, okay?"

Ryan pulled back to cup my face in his hands.

"Please don't cry. Let me see that gorgeous smile of yours." I blushed and gave him a small smile. "There we go, Bren." Ryan brought my face closer to his and kissed the tip of my nose.

He tilted my head up to grace my lips with his own. My tongue slipped through his silky lips and explored his sweet, warm mouth, rewarding me with a small groan. He returned the favor and sucked my bottom lip gently, drawing out a moan slightly louder than his own. His mouth trailed away from mine, kissing any bare skin he could find. My hands roamed his back unhurriedly as his remained on the back of my neck.

"This is the Brendon I know and love. I missed him, you know." Ryan murmured, his warm breath trailing down my neck.

"I never left, Ry, and I never will." I replied softly.

If only I could stop changing my mind.

Hope y'all like it so far! I won't be online until late tomorrow night so this is MyNomDePlume signing off. :)