FicWad

I went home the very next day.
Dallon was outside, talking violently on the phone to someone, about his work. Brendon appeared from the corner of my eye, with round, wide eyes.
“You don’t have to go,” Brendon looked upset. “Just spend a few more days.”
I sighed and shook my head. “No, I should get back to my work.” I lied. He grabbed my wrist and hugged me to his chest, and I could literally hear the tears in his voice as he moved over to my ear. “I’m sorry we can’t be friends.” He whispered, hugging me tight. “I want to be your friend so bad.”
Then don’t get married to Dallon. Get married to me instead.
Don’t get married to this control freak who refuses to let you spend time with your best friend – to this idiot who treats me like I’m the scum of the earth, to this man who will never ever love you as much as I do – to this man who is the luckiest guy in the world and probably doesn’t feel it.
“You’ve got your own life now,” I replied, finally. “I’ll be fine, you don’t need me, do you?”
Brendon’s body deflated against mine. “No. I do need you.” Brendon started to say something else but his body was moved away from mine, and when I opened my eyes, Dallon was stood, talking to Brendon, close to his face. I couldn’t look anymore.
I ducked my head away, happy that I had gotten one last hug before I left. I left Brendon some song lyrics in his room anyway. Just in case. Just in case he wanted a little piece of me.

I arrived home, on my own. I’d taken a cab back – and I went straight to my room, leaving my bags out in the hallway, towards the phone.
I dialed. “Dan?”
“Yeah?”
“Come over.”

My hands were tangled in his hair the moment that he came through the door.
It was sick and twisted, but I needed someone to be with, even if it was just for the night. He put his hands onto my lower back and tucked my shirt up and over my head, his teeth ducking and biting into my collarbone.
I let out a groan and he laughed, walking me towards the sofa and throwing my shirt to the floor. He pushed me down against the sofa and removed his own shirt, and then our lips were touching again.
“Why are we doing this?” Dan breathed, huskily, sitting on my hips.
“I’m heartbroken.” I responded, like a machine. “I’m heartbroken and I need something to take my mind off it.”
“Brendon?”
“Brendon.”
Dan nodded and nibbled below my earlobe. Every time I shut my eyes, suddenly things were different – it was Brendon. Brendon was all over me. This is why it was sick and twisted. Every little groan I let out, every soft whisper and murmur – it was Brendon. Brendon’s fingers pushing slightly into my waistband, Brendon’s lips pressing against my neck, Brendon’s tongue running up my chest.
I was sick.

When I fell back against the sofa, panting and sweating, I kept my eyes shut. I don’t think Dan was even surprised with the amount of times I said Brendon’s name during that. And I don’t think he was that bothered either. I refused to have sex in my own bedroom – I mean, it was bad enough that it was tainted with Dallon – I didn’t need to taint it with my own dirty secrets too.
Dan turned to me, cuddling me close.
“I’m guessing Brendon’s still a lost cause, huh?” He sighed, stroking my cheek. I nodded, gently.
“He’s getting married.” I whispered, feeling moisture behind my eyes. Dan’s made a small, concerned noise and pushed a kiss to my forehead.
“If I was Brendon I would have left that sick bastard ages ago.” Dan said, righteously, squeezing my shoulder. I smiled feebly and shimmied a pair of boxers back on, feeling a little uncomfortable without them. “But just so you know, I’m not going to be your friend with benefits.” He chuckled.
“We could always try..”
“But we can’t, can we?” Dan whispered. “I imagine that every time I touched you then, it was just Brendon, wasn’t it? I don’t mind, because you’re wildly attractive, and a little sick in the brain, and that’s okay.”
I smiled weakly and hugged him.
“Thanks, Dan. And I’m sorry.” I mumbled. He shook his head pulled my head to his chest.
“Don’t be sorry, sweetie.”

I’m not sure how many times I actually fucked that guy in a space of a few weeks.
Needless to say Dan stayed faithful to me even though he knew exactly what I was doing. Apparently he didn’t mind lending a hand, or a – wait no, Ryan, that’s disgusting, stop.
But after those fruitful weeks of love making I eventually grew tired and the sex was just making me depressed. Mainly because I’d wake after a night of extacy and pleasure and realise that it was all a lie; I’d have to face the day remembering that in actual fact, no one really does love me – until the evening, when Dan would come back, and make me remember what feeling good feels like.
But it was a vicious cycle and Dan was having to break it off.
He’d found someone else. And he didn’t want to be unfaithful.
I loved him for that.

I climbed out of bed.
The wedding was soon.
I lived on my own now. Jon and Spencer had long moved out together and into their own space – which really meant, they needed their own room and double bed to bang in.
But I wasn’t here to judge.
I think I would have felt the same.
They were also getting very sick of me and Dan slinking off to each other’s homes to have a quick fling. Which doesn’t surprise me either.
But now it’s just me.

The phone was ringing and it was so, loud. I was tired and sick of everything, as usual, and I wasn’t prepared for some foreign man offering me car insurance on a car I /don’t own/.
“Hello?” I said, in the most indignant voice I could muster.
“Is this George? George Ross?”
I sighed inwardly. “Yes, yes it is. What do you want?”
“We have some bad news.”
“And who might you be?”
I expected the voice to go on, in a sudden cheery tone; ‘your car insurance has nearly run out! What a disaster! You could die in a crash and your grandchildren will go pennyless!’
I’ve had that one far too many times.
But this was different.
“This is the Nevada State Hospital.”
I’ve heard these words so many times and I thought I knew what was coming. But nothing could have prepared me for this.
“It is about your late father, George Ross.. He passed away last night.”
I had to physically hold my self up with all the strength I could muster. I grabbed the sofa and lowered my self down onto it, shaking.
“He.. He died?” I breathed down the phone. “Why? When?”
“His liver failed. We tried our best, Sir, but we couldn’t save him. He’ll be here for a few days before his funeral, and you are welcome to come and visit.”
They hung up and I dropped the phone from between my fingers. I actually felt a little piece of me fall and drop away as I started to breathe, in and out, faster and faster.
Fuck, I hadn’t had a panic attack for so long..
Suddenly it wasn’t my apartment anymore. I was trapped inside my self. My fingers dug into the sofa arms and I breathed in, but I couldn’t get enough air in my lungs, I couldn’t breathe in enough, I couldn’t and soon I would suffocate. I sucked air in as much as I could and now tears were falling from my eyes, and I couldn’t see. My chest felt tense and my throat was tightening, and my hands were fumbling for the phone, because I needed to speak to someone, I needed help, and I needed it now.
I rung Dan’s number – it was on speed dial.
No answer.
I then selected Jon and Spencer’s new home number and dialed.
But there was still no answer.
I let out another sob and breathed in deeply, finding it hard to breathe back out.
And I dialed Brendon’s number.
I hadn’t spoken to him for months and months now but there was no one else and if I wasn’t seen to soon, I could be left worse for wear.
My chest was starting to ache and I clutched it, in fear that I was having a heart attack. That was what it felt like – but I had had a panic attack before. My fingers were shaking violently as I held the phone to my ear and I was worried I might vomit.
“Hello?” There was a soft voice and I recognized it instantly.
“I – Need- help,” I choked out, my breathing getting faster and faster. Brendon was worried immediately. This wasn’t the first time he had encountered me having a panic attack.
“Are you at home?” He asked, clearly.
“Y-yes,” I mumbled. “I n-need h-elp-“
“I’m coming.” Brendon slammed down the phone and I almost sobbed at the lack of his voice. I curled over, feeling nauseous, my skin simultaneously boiling hot and freezing cold, my forehead dripping with sweat. My vision started to blur and I crawled along the floor, my throat hoarse and raw with shouting and crying.
“Ryan,” The door slammed shut and I was being scooped up, carried away to my bedroom. I continued to cry and shake, my entire body lit up in flames, my chest wrenching and aching. I finally opened my eyes and saw a blurry outline. “Calm down, sweetheart, please, I’m here now.”
His hand touched my cheek and he sat me up, as he knew how to, putting an arm around me.
“Shh now.” Brendon hushed me, moving behind me. “Hush. Just relax, don’t worry.” His hands laid onto my shoulders and rubbed them, in between my shoulder blades and down my spine. I bowed my head, beginning to breathe a little easier.
He had, after all, treated my panic attacks before.
“Just shush now, everything is alright,” Brendon whispered, lovingly, calming me down. “Let’s get you all calm, okay? Then we can talk.”
He kept on rubbing my back until my breathing had returned to normal, and he moved around the front of me, putting a hand on my shoulder.
“Now, are you cold?”
I nodded.
He removed his jacket and pulled it around my shoulders, applying another blanket and propping me up against the headboard. He sat beside me, wiping the tears from my cheeks with his sleeve.
“The men all played along to marching drums.. And boy did they have fun, behind the sea..” Brendon sang, very quietly, as I sat with my eyes shut.
He must have found my lyrics, then.
“They sang, so our matching legs are matching clocks, and we’re all too small, to talk to God.. Yes, we’re all too smart to talk to God..”

“So what happened?” Brendon whispered, after a few hours. He sang a little more to me, and he talked, but I never responded, not much.
I sighed, softly, wiping my eyes.
“My dad..” I shivered. “He passed away.. In his sleep. His liver gave up on him.” I sniffed. “I can’t go see him either..”
“I’ll take you.”
“But – Dallon will think that..”
“I don’t care, Ryan, you should be able to see your father and go to his funeral, and if Dallon doesn’t like that, he can lump it, okay?”
I sniffed and leant against him.
“I’ve missed you so much.” I whispered, shutting my eyes. His arm poked around me and pulled me close.
“I’ve missed you too. Loads..” I could sense a thick sadness in his voice.
“Are you excited for the wedding?” I whispered, reluctantly. Brendon’s reaction was – odd.
“I guess so. I considered calling it off – differences, and stuff. But – I think that’s just cold feet.”
I kept silent for a few moments, thinking over everything I could possibly say. Everything that could ruin me, or make me a saint, or get me into Brendon’s underwear. Instead, I stayed faithful, as a friend.
“Yeah,” I nodded, very softly. “Cold feet.”