FicWad

Sleep Tight





Whimper.

"Ryan, speak to me."

Nothing.

"Please, Ry. Please. Just… say something. Anything."

Yet again, nothing. Just the sound of my sweet little boyfriend's sniffles fracturing and fragmenting the near-silence of my bedroom.

He hasn't spoken for the past three hours, not since I managed to wake him up from his nightmare. At least, I think it was a nightmare; he still hasn't told me what it was that had him thrashing and screaming and actually fucking sobbing in his sleep.

Ryan's slept over at mine before but never, not once, have I ever seen him have a nightmare. Perhaps it's a regular occurrence and I've just never been awoken by it before, in which case I'm a shitty boyfriend because he should trust me enough to wake me himself should he need comfort like he so desperately does right now.

But this nightmare, be it the first or millionth, his screaming thankfully woke me and I in turn woke him. To be met with rabbit-in-headlight eyes and pure, almost tangible fear emanating from every iota of his frail little body. He blinked at me for a few seconds and then just pulled his knees tight to his chest, sobbing into them as though all alone in this cruel world. Then when I tried to hug him, he had actually shrieked. Shrieked and shrank away from my outstretched hand like a puppy from a python, so weak and vulnerable and in need of protection.

So I've just been sat at the end of my bed, waiting for him to calm down enough for me to be able to do something about his distress. And it's fucking killing me, knowing that I can't do anything to make it all better for him.

"C'mon, Ry. It's just me, just silly old Brendon, your boyfriend." He doesn't react, just carries on crying. "Please, Sweetheart, speak to me. I… I don't know what to do."

At that, or rather the lack of response it provokes, tears start pirouetting down my own pale face. Tears of despair, tears of defeat but, above all else, tears of love. Love for Ryan; for the boy who's been crying nonstop for the past three hours and I don't even know why. I shouldn't even have to ask, though. I mean, I'm his boyfriend; I should just understand this kind of shit without a need for words.

I bet Spencer would understand. He always fucking does.

Okay, so I'm not as jealous or bitter or whatever as I just made myself sound to be. But it's true; Spence just gets Ry. Everything Ry does, from his fascination with seashells to his deadly fear of butterflies, Spencer Smith can explain it all. Not that he ever deems me worthy of an explanation. The guy seems to resent me for 'stealing' his best friend and has it in his head that it's his place to protect the sixteen-year-old from the world's many dangers. Including myself.

Sure, Spencer and I might only be fifteen ourselves, but Ry's innocent. What I call a young teenager; far too sweet and naïve to be treated the way the world does treat him. The way his dad treats him.

His dad. I hate that bastard more than Spencer Smith seems to hate me. Never mind nightmares; George Ross Senior has crushed every one of my Ryro's dreams with his stern words of spiteful discouragement.

But none of that, none of the hatred, matters in the slightest right now. Because Ryan Ross is crying and I can't do anything to stop it. Because I'm a failure.

Because I'm a shitty boyfriend unworthy of someone as vibrantly amazing as my Ryro.

"Bren?"

At the tiny little whimper I look back up, Ryan finally looking back up at me and not into his knees for the first time in hours. God, he looks a mess. Hot, as always, but still a mess. All red-doused eyes, like there's a fire burning them from the inside out, and a tear-blotched face to match.

My poor little boyfriend.

"Yeah, Ry?"

He squints at me a little, the look on his face breaking my heart, and then catapults towards me at full pelt, very nearly knocking me off the end of my bed and onto my bare wood floor. My arms instinctively fasten around him like a safety belt, his tears drilling straight into my naked chest like a torrent of merciless bullets. It hurts seeing like him like this, but it's a pain I shall put up with. For Ry; he's worth any amount of agony.

Not least because I know he's gone through worse for me. Like when he told his dad about him having a boyfriend. The outcome of that was way worse for him than this is for me and I caused it. So it's the least I can do to comfort him now.

"I'm here, Sweetheart. I'm right here." I whisper, my lips pressing determinedly to his sweat-slicked forehead. "What happened?" He just shakes his head, confirming it for me; I have to find out what the hell happened to make him like this. "Did you have a nightmare?" Pained pause. "If you did you can tell me, Ry. I won't judge you or laugh or anything. I just want to know so I can make it all alright again. It's nothing to be ashamed of. Nightmare?"

He nods. A quick, sharp gesture clearly intended to play down the seriousness of whatever it was that's reduced him to this; a lion roaming the jungle to a kitten in a thunderstorm.

"You di-died, Brenny." The words are quiet, breathy, and full of a kind of ache that makes me long to be deaf just so I don't have to hear such suffering coming from my boyfriend's perfect lips ever again. "You died and I was all alone."

I look down at him, our eyes meeting and locking onto one another like a drowning man onto a float. My fingers trace soothing patterns on his painfully tense back and my spindly legs lock around his emaciated waist; there's no way that I'm letting him go. Ever.

He's too special and sweet and fragile for that.

"You'll never be alone, Ryan. I'll always be here. Besides, I can't die."

He raises an eyebrow at me, everything about him urging me onwards towards solid reassurance.

"How can I? I'm already in Heaven. I must be. After all, I am holding an angel."





A/N: Here, have some crappy Rydon fluff. Thanks for reading and please let me know what you think!