Let Me Go (Ryden)

Chapter XII

Ryan lay flat on their bed, gasping for air, fearing for his life. It'd been ages since he called Brendon, where the fuck was he? Ryan squeezed his eyes closed. Oh God, he needed to calm down. He needed Brendon to calm him down. The anxiety attacks had gotten so much worse lately, there was one thing that could calm him down, but he wasn't there. He'd said he was coming home. Where is he? Ryan thought. He opened his eyes, glancing out the window. The sun was slowly beginning to set. What time was it? He could barely force air in and out of his lungs, his heart hammered against his chest. Ryan couldn't even remember what he was so worked up about, this attack had lasted for so long. Usually they just went away after a little while, if Brendon wasn't there. But not this time. This one had gone on for hours. All Ryan needed to do was turn his head and look at the clock on the bedside table, but he was paralyzed by fear, he couldn't move, couldn't breathe, couldn't speak. His mind raced, searching for a way out of his blind terror. Think calming thoughts, Ryan. Think of... think of running water, sunsets, Brendon's eyes. Ryan told himself. And so he did. But it was the thought of Brendon's eyes, warm and gentle and kind, that helped Ryan to calm himself down. And although the attack was over, Ryan was still scared, because where was Brendon? He really should've been home by now.

~~~

Ryan heard the door to their house open.
"Brendon?!" He called out. He heard running footsteps approaching the bedroom. To his surprise, Jon burst into the room.
"Brendon's in the E.R." Jon said, rushing over to Ryan.
"What!" Ryan yelled. "Why?!"
Jon put him in his wheelchair, then hurried to get them both out of the house. In the car, Jon began to explain.
"I guess he must've been on his way back here, but his car crashed, and I don't know how he is, but I know the car was wrecked pretty badly. Ryan, I'm so sorry, I know bad stuff just keeps happening to us, although mostly you and Brendon, but to me and Spencer too." Jon kept his eyes glued to the road. Ryan's heart seized in his chest. Brendon was in a fucking car crash?! What the hell?! They didn't fucking need this shit right now, seriously, why did life seem to hate them? Ryan's throat closed. Oh God, Brendon could be seriously injured, or worse, dead. What would Ryan do if Brendon could never recover, what would he do if Brendon was dead? Ryan but his lip and wrung his hands nervously. Now was not a good time to start having another anxiety attack, he had to stop thinking like this. They drove the rest of the way to the hospital in a tense silence, Ryan internally dying even more than usual the whole way there.

~~~

They were kept in the waiting room for what seemed like way too long to be good. Finally, a doctor came and told them that they could see him. When they got inside Brendon's room, Jon moved Ryan so that his wheelchair was right next to Brendon's bed, then left to check on Spencer. Brendon wasn't asleep, but he hadn't said anything the entire time Jon was in the room, just followed him curiously with his eyes.
"Hi gorgeous," Ryan whispered.
"Hey," Brendon said. "I'm sorry, I should've been more careful..."
"It's okay, really, I'm just glad that you're alright." Ryan told him gently, taking his hand.
"No, it's not. I know that I'm supposed to know who brought you in here, but I don't. Who was that? I know him, I know it." Brendon gripped tighter to Ryan's hand.
"You don't remember who Jon is?" Ryan asked, taken a bit by surprise. Brendon shook his head. Oh God, he must've taken brain damage, Ryan thought. What else has he forgotten?
"I'm guessing we're friends with him," Brendon assumed.
"Yes we're friends with him, he's the fucking bassist of our band!" Ryan exclaimed. Brendon looked a bit hurt, and Ryan realized that he needed to be very careful about how he said things to his boyfriend while he had memory loss, after all, it wasn't his fault that he couldn't remember Jon.
"Well how was I supposed to know that?" Brendon mumbled, looking down.
"You weren't, Brendon, it's okay, babe, you'll remember this stuff in time." Ryan assured him. "Do you know who Spencer is?"
Brendon nodded.
"I think. He's our drummer, right?" Brendon asked.
"Yep." Ryan said. "Do you remember what happened to him?"
"Uh, sorry, should I?" Brendon looked puzzled.
"No, it's okay, I didn't really expect you to." Ryan told him. He wasn't sure he should tell him, but who knew if Brendon would fully get his memory back?
"Spencer is in a coma," Ryan had wanted to say it differently, but he didn't know how else to put it. Brendon froze.
"O-oh," he looked unsure of what to say next, but continued, "I should've remembered that..."
"It's not your fault. So, what did the doctor say, anyway? I mean, you obviously have memory loss, but what else?" Ryan asked.
"Well, the memory loss is from a concussion, and I cracked a few ribs, but nothing else. I was lucky, according to the doctor." Brendon answered him.
"Well, that's good that you were 'lucky', but are there other side effects of your concussion?" Ryan was starting to struggle to keep calm.
"Well, there are side effects, but I don't have all of them. I mean, yes I have memory loss, but I don't feel dizzy or anything like that. So I think just memory loss for me." Brendon squeezed Ryan's hand. After a few minutes of silence, Brendon asked,
"Hey, babe?"
"Yeah?" Ryan answered.
"I'm sorry, I just didn't want to ask before now, I still don't want to, but I... I can't remember... what's your name?"

~~~

It'd been about a week and a half since the accident, and Brendon's memory loss had finally worn off. But he still stressed over it, despite the fact that Ryan told him over and over that it wasn't his fault, that it didn't matter now. But Brendon just couldn't seem to let go. Ryan wrapped an arm around Brendon's shoulders, hugging his boyfriend closer to him. Brendon leaned against Ryan and sighed. But he leaned too much, and Ryan fell over onto his side under Brendon's weight. Luckily, since Ryan fell sideways, he just fell onto the other side of the couch.
"Oh, sorry Ry," Brendon said, picking Ryan back up into a sitting position.
"It's okay, babe," He assured his boyfriend, who looked nervous, probably worried that he'd hurt him. And while yes, it did hurt, Ryan didn't really care anymore, because everything always hurt. Ryan bit his lip. Brendon pulled him into his lap, keeping his arms around Ryan.
"Do you still wanna go away for the holidays?" He asked. Ryan looked up at his boyfriend.
"Of course, why wouldn't I?" Ryan said.
"Well with everything that's happened, and your current condition, I just thought..." Brendon trailed off.
"My current condition? What do you mean my current condition?!" Ryan suspected he knew what Brendon meant, but he wanted to know, since Brendon had the nerve to fucking bring it up.
"Ry, I didn't, you know what I'm talking about," Brendon sighed.
"Maybe I do, but since you've brought it up, tell me anyway." Ryan could feel anger starting to simmer inside of him.
"Well, you haven't exactly been very lively lately, to say the least. And you just don't seem up to doing much of anything, you have anxiety attacks almost every day, and you wouldn't eat if it weren't for me pretty much forcing you. Ryan, you almost break down about five times daily, and don't tell me you're not in pain, because you obviously are. Also, you sleep way too much. You haven't made it through even ten hours since when, like over three weeks ago? I'm sorry, sweetheart, but you really just don't seem to be doing so great."
The worst part about hearing Brendon say it was the fact that it was true. But that only fueled Ryan's growing anger.
"Okay, so I don't seem to be doing well. But it makes sense, because I just so happen to be fucking dying, Brendon! What do you expect, for me to be up and about, completely healthy?!"
"Ry, you kn-" Brendon began, but Ryan wasn't done.
"Because that's not going to happen, Brendon, it's never going to happen, I can guarantee you that. It's only going to get worse from here, and if you can't handle that, maybe you should just..." Ryan's voice broke. "Maybe you should just leave." he finished the sentence, then kept going.
"It's going to get so much worse, and you need to see that! I'm dying, I'm not going to get better. Okay? Please, just accept that, you'll make it so much easier for me." Ryan wanted to get up and just throw something, destroy the house, but he couldn't. He couldn't and that frustrated him, but he couldn't relieve his frustration, so he didn't do anything, just stayed there being held up by Brendon, because that was pretty much what his life had been reduced to. Brendon sighed, then reached out to brush a tear off of Ryan's cheek. He hadn't even realized that he'd started to cry.
"Ryan, sweetheart, you do realize that I accepted that a long time ago. Just because I've tried to stay positive doesn't mean that I believe what I'm saying. And I'm worried about you, do you really think it's easy for me to be watching you die?" Brendon said quietly.
"No, I guess not," Ryan mumbled, nestling closer to Brendon, burying his face in his boyfriend's chest. His anger and frustration fizzled out, he'd worked himself up too much, he was too tired to even think now. He felt Brendon kiss the top of his head. Ryan didn't want to sleep, he still needed to tell Brendon something, but he couldn't help it, and he passed out.