Monday
7:16 AM
home
I wake up on the couch in Travis' arms, the strong scent of his skin consuming me and his lips inches away from mine. A low "mmm" issues from his throat, and though how beautiful it sounds, I am reminded that today we have to go back to school. A low groan escapes from my own throat after remembering this.
I steal a kiss from Travis before whispering, "Come on, time to get up." He doesn't even open his eyes and pulls me back down by my shirt and kisses me again. It's very passionate for being so early in the morning and for how tired he looks and feels. I pout. "Let's not be late for once."
I kiss him once again, much more slowly, my tongue playing a little and my hand running through Travis' hair.
I pace the living room to go wake up Ryan, who has been sleeping in my bedroom for the past, what, 24 hours? I brought him dinner last night but he said he wasn't hungry. I worry about him, to be honest.
I turn on the light and watch Ryan's eyes flutter over and over, trying to open. Once they do though, they fall down again. I go over to him. "Ryry, we have to go to school. You gotta get up-"
He coughs loud and harshly, leaning over into the inside of his elbow. He coughs and coughs, then grabs the glass of water that sits on my nightstand, little pieces of ice resting at the surface. I look at Ryan, for the first time in a while, I really look at him, and my eyebrows furrow and I can start to feel my heart beat. "Ryan, are- are you sick?"
His breathing is fast. His little pencil case of a chest rises and falls faster than the fan spinning in his direction. I quickly place the back of my hand to Ryan's pale forehead and feel a temperature that's gotta be a bit higher than normal. "Do you have the flu?" I kind of feel like Ryan's dad or something, the dad he never had, or more appropriately, his brother.
Ryan squirms, his eyes shut tightly, and he pouts painfully. "Make it stop..." he whimpers quietly, his voice hoarse and restrained.
"What?" I say, feeling a panic rise inside of me. "What hurts?"
He coughs again, the squirming increasing, and he breathes out, "Everything."
I feel a pang of the pinnacle of guilty, even when I know in the back of my mind that it's irrational. I just left him here while I went out with Travis. I ignored him and assumed he was okay. That's never, ever plausible with Ryan Ross; I should have known that.
Both Travis and I are required to help Ryan out to my car, or rather my dad's car, to get him to the hospital. Mostly it was his reluctance to going, knowing that he had just professed his vulnerability, something I know that he's wanted to hide for so long. But Ryan's true feelings never stay secret for long; we all know that.
Travis is more than happy to have a real, credible excuse to not go to school. He sits in the backseat, probably nodding off to sleep. I don't know, I'm not that concerned with him at the moment. All I can really seem to think about is how Ryan just used to be this boy that I would mess around with, buy him lattes, and basically sweep him off his feet. And he did the same to me. I almost wish we could go back to that time. What changed it all?
Brendon Urie.
What changed me?
Travis McCoy.
I glance to my right at Ryan's thin skeleton of a body, shivering through the blanket that he curled up into a ball against the window with. I know what I used to love about Ryan. He was sad, yes, but he was always hopeful. He always had this mentality that one day Brendon would be back in his arms, and away they would ride into the sunset. It was this kind of optimism that just captivated me when I spoke to him. He dated other asshole guys, he tried new things, he lived his life. But he knew that one day his love would come back to him. Now, I think Ryan doesn't know what to do. I don't know if Ryan ever actually believed himself. I think Ryan is in a prolonged state of shock.
We'll leave that to the doctors, I guess.
Upon arrival, my escorting Ryan is questioned by the doctors. As they send him off to one of the rooms, a nurse asks me where his parents are.
With lips slightly parted and a cold compassion in my eyes, I tell her, "His mom lives in a different state, and his dad kicked him out a couple weeks ago. He's been living with me."
What a sad life Ryan's must come off as. The nurse gives me a long stare and then nods. She pushes some papers to the bottom of the pile that rests on her clipboard. She walks nonchalantly into Ryan's room and closes the door. I know it's only a matter of seconds until she'll really understand what I just said. She'll see Ryan's bottomless brown eyes, and her heart will break. She'll understand.
This is how everybody meets Ryan.
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Hello, I love you.
