The Man I Know I'm Not [Frerard] (Sequel To Tell Me I'm A Bad Man)

Eighteen - Take This To Your Grave

It wasn't quite raining, but it was close to it. You could almost feel the precipitation in the air, the nauseating humidity of a New Jersey summer. Gray clouds hung low over us all, mirroring the collective mood. It was the worst weather in the world to have a funeral, but here we were.

It was surreal, in a way. I don't think any of us were prepared for this day. I don't think any of us wanted this day to come full stop. I certainly didn't. I'd been willing the days to drag since Brendon had told me about the guy he'd met at the bar. But they'd rolled forward, one...two...three...four...five...six...until now.

Brendon was, for the most part, sober. Hungover, yes. Sober, almost. He'd downed two shots of vodka at eleven a.m for 'Dutch courage', which his mother berated him for, and then had remained silent since. I'd be worried if I hadn't been expecting it.

It was slowly starting to sink in for him, and as I watched him, he began to draw in more and more on himself, until it got to the point where he was forgetting to breathe. He wasn't crying, he was...expressionless, staring into space. I didn't know if he was going to say anything about Ryan; I didn't know if he was capable of saying anything at all.

And then it was my turn to speak. After listening - as best as I could, Brendon being the only thing I could focus on - to everyone else, I stood up and went up to the podium. I had no idea what to say, no idea what sort of approach to take, so I decided to just say the first thing that came to mind. A bit like everything else, really.

I cleared my throat, looking out at the faces turned expectantly up at me. Brendon was still staring forward, his fingers twitching as I took a deep breath. My eyes caught Gerard's, in the eighth row from the front, and he smiled encouragingly at me. Honestly, I hadn't expected him to turn up - we'd been a bit distant from each other the past few days, though I wasn't sure why.

"If you were at the wedding, you'd know how bad I am with speeches of any kind. You'll have to bear with me." I swallowed heavily, rubbing my hands together. "The last time I was here...I was fifteen or something. Back then, I didn't say much, if anything. I felt angry, and hurt, and betrayed. But I don't feel like that now. Okay, I feel angry that something so destructive could take away an innocent life, but...I don't feel hurt or betrayed. I just feel...almost hollow. I don't think I'm ever going to get used to the fact that Ryan's not here anymore...I don't think any of us are.

"Losing your best friend isn't something you want to happen when you're still a teenager. I remember when I first met Ryan Ross - sorry, Ross-Urie. It was...English class, I believe, and I'd just started Belleville High. His first impression of me was pissing off our teacher; my first impression of him was of this quiet kid that wore weird clothes and daydreamed way too much.

"I hadn't known him for long, but I knew him long enough to know this: he wouldn't want you all to cry, with your tissues and hankies and whatever else you can find - sleeves, people use sleeves a lot, I've never known why. He would want you to accept that he's gone. Not forget about him, but not keep him at the forefront of your mind every single day. See some curtains and think, 'I knew someone who once wore shirts like that. Oh yeah, my best friend Ryan', and then smile. Not at the fact that he's gone, but at the fact that he existed in the first place. That includes you, Brendon. He gave something to every single one of us. I'm not the best with people, but I reckon that's what he'd want. Because he may not have survived, but he made sure the rest of us did."

~

Brendon's eyes glazed over as he watched Ryan's coffin being lowered into the ground, and finally, tears spilled over.

The wooden box was black, but Brendon had spent hours upon hours painting intricate red roses on the surface. He'd said he wanted Ryan to sleep somewhere that looked pretty, and was comfortable, which was why he - along with Ryan's parents - had asked for it to be lined with padded red wine-colored silk.