900 Thousand Times I Would...

He ran his hands through the other boy's hair, wishing to love and to lose. The timing was all wrong, the moment perfect. And as he held him close he cried:

"I don't love you."

The words were enough to keep the other younger and similar boy listening. He had heard these words before; he knew the truth. This was no different from any other day, and he knew that nothing would ever change. They would keep on like this forever until one of them died. Saying you'll leave is easy, but actually doing it is a totally other matter entirely.

"And I don't love you," the boy finally replied to the man seven years his senior. They did not love each other, and that's why they could keep this up.

Love is just a lie, they both knew. They had plenty of experience knowing this. They were tired of breaking their own hearts on someone who didn't love them back. But these two, they both knew that they didn't love each other. That was why they stayed together. No one would ever get hurt this way.

Saying they didn't love each other was easy, but admitting they were both lying was unspeakable.

The younger held the older with quiet determination. Though he was younger, he was the larger of the two, but still was not dominant in the relationship they both shared. He didn't want to be here with him, but he needed to be. He would always be here.

The older man looked up at the younger. What was he? A friend? A boyfriend? A lover? The latter could not be true; they did not love each other because they refused to. "We should stop this," he mumbled.

The younger man had heard this many times as well. He also agreed; they should stop, none of this was natural. But both were still far to selfish to leave. "I know," the younger sighed, only wanting to be far far away from here without being pulled back by his counterpart.

Both poets, they had several things in common. They liked music, could talk with touches, and hated being in love. They both lied often; a side-effect of their inner demons.

The older of the pair leaned his head up and looked into his partner's brown eyes. "We have to stop," he repeated, the tears coming now.

The other looked back at him. "Then leave," he whispered.

"I can't!" he cried, his tears and pain now plainly evident on his tanned face. He looked at the other, the pale skin contrasting with his own.

"Don't make me cry," the younger warned. "If you want to leave, leave. No one's stopping you, so just go already!"

Tears turned to sobs as the older grabbed onto his lover's shirt. "I have to leave you because I love you," he managed to choke out.

The younger held back his tears. "I know," he whispered once more into the older man's hair.

"What do I do?"

The boy sighed; why must he always ask his opinion? "Go. You're making my heart hurt, Pete. You're hurting it. You promised me you wouldn't."

Pete looked at Ryan with sad eyes. Now it was his turn to say:

"I know."

That was Ryan's cue to cry. Everything had still fallen apart, no matter what they had tried to do to prevent it. It never works; someone always ends up getting hurt in the end. "Go," he whispered.

Giving Ryan one small delicate kiss on his head, Pete stood. This was the last time, he knew. The last time they'd ever see each other like this.

"I love you too," Ryan whispered as Pete left the room tearfully. He had heard these last words, and they was breaking him and pulling him apart. Everything was falling apart now. Love always hurts everyone involved.

Because loving is just another synonym for lying.

It was the dream again. The dream that replayed one of the most awful moments of his life like a bad song on the radio. His mind wouldn't let him forget the words he had tried to block from his mind for so long. They had kept flooding back to him every single night for two weeks straight.

He was crying, he now realized as he pulled the blankets up over his head. He usually started crying during those dreams.

Sobbing softly, Ryan shut his eyes tightly, wanting to die. He wanted to die, couldn't people see that? He never ever wanted to dream or live again. Life wasn't worth living anymore; without Pete Wentz, nothing was worth it. He wanted to fall away. Nothing mattered; nothing.

"Ryan?" he heard a small and tentative voice ask.

He didn't answer, but instead slipped deeper into the blankets. The world was dead to him: dead as a doornail. He didn't want anything to do with anyone or anything in it.

"Ryan?" the voice asked again. This time, he recognized it as being Brendon's voice.

Brendon Urie: his best friend in the whole world. The person he was able to laugh with, cry with, and watch cartoons in his pajamas all day with. Brendon did have the brain and attention span of a spaztic ten-year-old, but really, no one in the world could be more honest and loyal. He could never hurt a fly. He didn't have a mean bone in his body.

Despite this, Ryan still couldn't bring himself to come out of his cocoon. From the seams of the blanket, he could see the light on the room had been switched on, followed by a weight on his shoulder. "Come on," Brendon said. "I just wanna talk."

Sniffling, Ryan peeked his head out of his safe haven a fraction, just enough to see Brendon's face. Brendon was worried, he could tell, for his full lips were pursed slightly in concentration. Only Ryan's eyes visible to Brendon. He said nothing, but just looked at him., wondering what he'd say to fnd him like this.

“What’s going on?” Brendon asked. He had noticed Ryan had been acting weird for about the past two weeks. He was incredibly distant, and even more quiet than usual. He had tried to give him his space; he hoped maybe he’d snap out of it soon… but he hadn’t. That was the reason Bren suggested they rent out a cabin for a little while. Just chill. No responsibilities, no interviews, no fans, no worries. Just your three best friends and your music. But so far, it hadn’t appeared to be working. “You’ve been acting really weird… are you okay?”

Ryan sniffled. “Fine,” he lied, “Sorry to bug you.”

Brendon gave him a look that told him he knew he was full of shit. “Spill. Something’s up, and you’ve been really depressed lately. You don’t wake up crying if nothing’s wrong,” Brendon pointed out.

“Okay… Just… we have to keep it between us, all right?” Ryan verified.

Brendon nodded and waited for Ryan to begin.

“Well… you know how I was sorta… with Pete?” Ryan said.

Brendon nodded. Ryan had never really told him up front that they were dating, but he was always mentioning how they were hanging out, and when they were together, it was so obvious. They really had an outrageous, yet undeniable attraction. Sometimes, Bren got sort of jealous by the amounts of attention they paid one another. He liked being the center of attention. Now that he thought about it… Ryan hadn’t said anything about Pete in a while…

“So… I don’t know what we were… but we loved each other and just couldn’t be together. Everything went to shit and there’s nothing anyone can do. We were fucked, and that’s basically it,” Ryan mumbled. His heart felt like it was about to drown in the tears it was producing. Yes, even his heart was crying. His vision began to blur, but he blinked the probable tears away. Brendon probably didn’t even realize how hard it was to admit that.

“Oh…” Bren trailed off, feeling so bad for his friend. He leaned closer and put a hand on Ryan’s head. “It’s all right. Things happen, you know? You just have to get through it. Don’t worry so much. We’re all here to take care of you.” He crawled over and got under the blankets with him.

“What’re you doing?” Ryan questioned.

“Just gonna sleep here. I know you don’t want to be alone right now,” Brendon stated.

This is why they were best friends. They understood each other and didn’t have to state the obvious. Things just fell into place as they were meant to. “Thanks,” Ryan mumbled.

Brendon cuddled into Ryan’s side (he couldn’t help it; he was a born cuddler) and whispered, “Thanks for telling me what happened. I know it was hard for you.”

Ryan sighed inwardly. Guess Bren did know how hard it had been. He closed his eyes and wrapped his arm around his best friend’s shoulder, just because there was nothing else left to do.