Loving You Is Harder Than You Know

Ryan's P.O.V

"I can look after myself now, thanks for helping me," I mutter bitterly, not thankful at all. I take a final sip from my coffee, before carelessly throwing it into the nearest bin and set off walking away from Jon and the hospital. I may have a pot captivating my arm but that doesn't mean I'm incapable of walking home by myself and its not like I haven't had worse.

"So your just going to walk away from me for the rest of your life," Jon says sternly, I carry on waking, each time my foot hits the pavement I feel the slightest amount of guilt circling the pit of my stomach. I feel the sweat trickling down the nape of my neck and I start to feel ever so uncomfortable. Jon is not meant to make me feel like this, I should be running away never thinking about him for the rest of my life, I should be happy now, I'm free.

"I guess I am," I say quietly, I don't know if Jon heard me but I could not face turning around to look at him for one last time, suddenly it hits me though, where is home for me anymore. Me and Brendon lived together, who get's the house, which one of us is going to be made homeless. Never seeing Jon again seems almost nothing compared to the thought of walking around the streets with your whole life in one bag slung over your shoulder.

I stop halfway down the path, my arm is aching and I'm feeling pretty worthless right now, I guess I'm going to have to order a taxi. I shove my hand into my pocket awkwardly and try to get my mobile out, this may be a little harder than I had anticipated. Oh well, you better pull yourself together Ry, this isn't going to be easy. Somehow I get the phone out of my pocket, after dropping it numerous times, and ring for a taxi. I might as well go home even if Brendon does not want me there I still need to collect some of my belongings.

The taxi arrives pretty quickly, I suppose in some ways I'm slightly disappointed that Jon has not come to persuade me to stay with him, I take one glance back at the hospital before opening the door. I sit down struggling to pull the seat belt across me, the driver gives me a funny look and my cheeks set alight. As we drive away from the hospital the tears start to trickle down my cheeks, one by one. I turn to looking out of the window, watching my old life pass by in a blur of tears. The driver can stare at me as much as they want, he has no clue on what's going on in my life and I don't give a damn if he thinks I am an emotional freak.

When the taxi stops in front of the house I start to regret ever choosing to come back here. It's like I can see the bubble of hate and torture surrounding it. Once I step inside, that bubble secludes me and I can't get out, I'm stuck in the life I have grown to detest so much and there is no way out. The door locks and the screaming begins. But part of me knows that if I walk away from Brendon too then he will always be with me in some way. In nightmares, thoughts, in my head whenever I close my eyes. Let's just get this over with and hope I can say goodbye to Brendon for good.

I pay the taxi driver and feel horribly sorry for myself when I trip getting out the car and the man snigger's at me. For the second time today my cheeks burn bright and the tears torture my eyes again. It is me or is this getting boring? The tears, embarrassment, haven't I experienced any of those things enough. I start to walk to the door, the sun beats down hard against my stinging cheeks, and makes me feel hot under my t shirt. The soles of my shoes seem to stick to the pavement as I shuffle further to the door, my heart hanging loosely on my sleeve. I reach out and knock on the door, my hand is trembling, the tremors even reaching the very tips of my fingernails. I wait a few moments, as every second passes it feels like my pain has tripled, being scared is an understatement.

The door is swung open and that's when I see him, is that Brendon? His skin is so pale and pallid, almost clammy looking. His eyes are dark and bloodshot sinking deep into his skull, casting hideous shadows beneath his eyes. His once smooth, silky hair is stuck in all directions and he can barely hold himself up. He leans against the wall for support, he is doubled over in some sort of pain and for once in my life I'm scared for a whole different reason. He looks so vulnerable, breakable, fragile.

"I wanted to feel the pain you did," he manages to croak out from his cracked lips, a gasp emerges from my lips when I realize he has done this to himself. A million questions come running towards me but I try to block them all out, only concentrating on the boy falling to pieces in front of my eyes.

"What have you fucking done to yourself," I scream at him, I step inside slamming the door hard behind me. Brendon jumps in shock and tries desperately to find something to hold onto, I stare at him my breathing increasing rapidly, uncontrollable. I don't know what to do, someone tell me what to do, I'm begging you. I should be helping him, why can't I fucking pull myself together. I try to grab him and pull him close to me but he pushes me away stumbling across the living room.

Just imagine what life would be without him...

I walk over to him this time pulling him close to me, I need to know what he has done. Drugs? Alcohol? I don't know and its hurting me, what if he has took something stupidly dangerous and is killing himself right now. Killing himself for me. He looks straight into my eyes, a small tear rolls down his cheek before his beautiful eyes glaze over and roll to the back of his head. He drops into my arms and that's when I burst into tears. I struggle with his weight against my tiny frame but I can't let him go, I just can't. I hug him so tight, breathing in his overpowering scent.

"Just open your eyes Bren, please don't do this to me..."