Title: Burnt Petals [8] [accompaniment to Flowers By The Fire]
Author: peopleexisting
Beta: my_0wn_madness
Rating: PG-13
Pairing: Jon/Brendon, Ryan/Brendon
POV: Third person, Ryan's.
Summary: Ryan and Brendon's story, behind the scenes of Flowers By The Fire.
Disclaimer: Not true, et cetera.
Author Notes: This chapter is dedicated to the FABULOUS my_0wn_madness</lj>for her words, her kindness, her ... way of inspiring me? for lack of a better phrases lolol, and also, most recently, her agreeing to be my beta. :*
Flowers By The Fire previous chapters
Burnt Petals previous chapters
The hospital bed is uncomfortable.
The thought strikes him as he lies there, bored out of his mind and wondering why the hell Spencer hasn't visited him all day. He's weak, so weak, and he keeps slipping in and out of consciousness, the blood transfusions and the anesthetics making him light-headed. But now it's the next evening, over a day since he tried to end it all again. Is he so much of a failure that he can't even end his life properly?
Ryan sighs. His whole body is aching and this bed is so, so uncomfortable. He wants to shift in it, change positions, but his arms are hooked up to machines and, besides, he's too weak to move. So, he suffers, giving the nurses and the doctors forced smiles as they check on him, as they adjust the levels of the drip, as they monitor him.
He failed. He's alive. He's still breathing, and he hasn't got the energy or motivation to try to end it all again. Glumly, he moves his gaze to the window and sees the darkening sky through an ever so slightly blurred vision. His stomach is churning uncomfortably and every time he moves so much as an inch a sharp pain sears up his forearms. He has nobody to blame but himself and so he tries not to feel any self-pity. No wonder Spencer isn't visiting. No wonder Jon was more alluring. No wonder Brendon is walking through the door with a furious look on his face. No wonder --
Wait.
Wait, what?
Brendon?
Ryan's eyes go wide and Brendon shuts the door carefully behind him. Their gazes meet and he realizes that Brendon must have run all the way up to the third floor, considering he's so out of breath. Ryan isn't sure he's ever looked more beautiful; cheeks flushed, hair tousled, eyes bright with worry and anger. Though the anger is for him, he isn't perturbed. He's just stunned and utterly forgiving of all past hardships caused by this wild, dangerous boy. "Brendon?"
"Shut up," Brendon half moans, and then his lips are pressing urgently into Ryan's and he's whispering, "Shut up, shut up, shut up."
They kiss, slowly and sloppily, and Ryan swears he's crying (because seriously, he's in a lot of pain right now) and then Brendon is too, and he's cupping Ryan's face with hands and kissing his tears away and whispering countless apologies. Ryan's heart is swelling and he's trying to tell himself that this is too good to be true, but that's a lie. Because it is true. It's happening, right now. Brendon has come home to him.
"What about Jon?" is all Ryan can whisper, whimper, and Brendon closes his eyes.
"Jon will understand," Brendon says, and though his voice is not entirely certain, it's enough. It's a choice, a choice he's clearly made, and he's chosen Ryan. "Jon can move on. He'll be safer then. Jon will ... Jon will understand."
"And if he doesn't?"
"If he doesn't ..." Brendon hesitates, and then runs a thumb over Ryan's moist cheekbone. "If he doesn't, I'm still yours. You need me more."
"But, but surely it should be a matter of who you need --"
"Calm down," Brendon cuts through him, gently. "You're weak. You need rest."
He sinks down into the chair by the bed and smoothes the dark hair from Ryan's forehead. "I'm sorry," he whispers, suddenly, ferociously, "for ... for doing that, with Jon. Hurting you. But you can't keep trying to kill yourself every time something goes wrong. People need you. Spencer needs you." He pauses. "I need you."
Ryan half wants to ask him why he didn't think about Ryan needing him when he made out with Jon despite them going out, but he remains silent. This is all too good to be true and though Brendon's words hurt, he knows them to be the truth. He's been a coward. He's tried to die again to escape. There was no noble motivation between it, not really. It was just him, the knife, and an easy way out.
"Okay," he says, and a beam spreads across Brendon's beautiful, beautiful lips. He leans down to press them against Ryan's and Ryan stirs in the bed, ignoring the stabs of pain that shoot up the nerves in his heavily bandaged arms. They carry on kissing, oblivious to their surroundings, until a female shriek causes them to break apart.
They look to the doorway to see a young nurse standing frozen to the spot, staring at them. Her hair is long and thick, tied tightly back and her dark eyes are wide, pinned on them. "Excuse me, young man. May I ask why you are accosting my patient?"
"Sorry!" Brendon says, in a dreamy voice, beaming at Ryan. His eyes seem to be for nobody else now, a strange look having come over his face. Ryan's heart flutters within his chest as he looks up into those glittering eyes. "I'll go now." He leans down and smoothes his fingers down Ryan's cheek, pressing a kiss to the corner of Ryan's mouth gently. "I'll be back, though. I'll go and talk to Jon, and I'll be back. I promise. I ... I love you."
There's a beat of silence in which Ryan vaguely thinks that if he dies now, he might die happy. But ... but he doesn't want to die. He just wants to live, and live in the arms of one Brendon Urie. "I love you too," he whispers, sincerely, and Brendon smiles again. He kisses the weak boy one last time, beams at the nurse, and waltzes away.
Ryan rests back and sighs.
The hospital bed is uncomfortable, but Ryan doesn't mind.
