That Fragile Capricorn

The airport was crowded; flooded with delays. It had been snowing non-stop ever since they had went back to the hotel the night before. Four feet and counting. Ryan sat between Jon and Brendon, staring at the sign that read: "Tampa Florida; 3 Hour Delay". Three hours, the sign had just flipped. They would be trapped there for three hours. Ryan sighed as he leaned back into his chair, hand over his face. Brendon was just as bored, hardly being able to wait to get to the warm sunny setting of Tampa. Spencer was sleeping, his ipod still on, and Jon was reading. Ever so slowly, Brendon's eye lids got heavier and heavier, to the point where he himself, just like Spencer, was sleeping soundly on Ryan's shoulder.

Where am I? Was Brendon's first thought as his eyes snapped open. The walls were an off white cream color, the floors a white linoleum. He found himself sitting on a chair in a hallway, wide enough for a bed to fit in. The lights were dim and somewhere one of them was flickering on the verge of death. This odd sense of serenity and peace was killed though, as a slew of doctors ran down the hallway with a boy on a gurney. Something told Brendon to follow, so of course he did.

Brendon was forced to a sprint as he followed the doctors. He couldn't recognize the boy; his hair was matted with blood both fresh and some slightly dry, most of which was slowly dripping down to his face to meet up with the blood of scratches and a gash on his right cheek. Not to mention the oxygen mask on his face, the only thing keeping him breathing. His clothes were heavily bloody too, more so around his chest, the boy's pants were shredded at the knees, and almost disintegrated anywhere below.

"Just keep him breathing!" A doctor barked as they turned a corner. "Almost there...."

Quickly, they shoved open the doors to an ER emergency room. Several more doctors and nurses rushed in after them. The room was a milky blue color with the same white linoleum floors as the hallway, which were slowly being dyed red around the stretcher. Who-ever this boy was, he was bleeding badly, to death.

"Get an IV on him and plasma, stat!" A doctor shouted over his shoulder as he washed his hands in preparation for what seemed to be emergency surgery. "Get that scarf off of him too!"

Scarf?

"I'm trying! His vest and shirt are in the way!" A nurse shouted back as she tried to strip the boy of the scraps of clothing that clung to his body, drenched in crimson blood.

Vest?

"Take it off then, it'll need to be removed either way!"

Every second... Brendon thought, This kid sounds more and more like....Ryan? No, it can't be... Brendon made his way through the sea of doctors and nurses, who didn't seem to see, hear, or feel him, to the gurney. He still couldn't tell who the boy was, the breathing mask was still strapped to his face. Suddenly, almost as if the Brendon had asked the nurse herself, she removed the mask. The face was still unrecognizable, blood drenched it, and it wasn't any help that they were in the process of switching him from the gurney to the cold hard metal of an operating table. The gurney was drenched in the crimson blood, and the operating table was already starting to look like it. The boys eyes fluttered open from a quick silent moment before shutting again.

Brendon knew those eyes. He knew the face. Scarf, clothes, vest. Brendon knew the dying boy in front of him. He wished he didn't. He wished he was wrong. But, this boy, those eyes, were unmistakably those of the very boy he loved. Ryan.

"What's going on?! What happened?!" Brendon almost shrieked over the sounds of the heart monitor, bustling doctors, scared nurses, and other medical equipment.

No one answered. No one heard. Brendon's mind flew into panic, what had happened to Ryan?

"Keep him breathing!" The doctor snapped again.

Brendon just stood there, shocked and confused. What had happened to Ryan? Why wouldn't anyone answer his questions? His grip on the edge of the cold metal table was so great he though his knuckles would bust from his hand. All his life, lay dying in front of him.

"Poor boy, I hope he lives." A nurse whispered behind him to another nurse. "That sure was one night out gone wrong..."

"It's a shame. What exactly happened?" The other nurse whispered back.

"I'm not too sure. I think it was a really bad car crash, at least, that's what it looks like. I could be wrong."

Their conversation died after that, each one returning to their duties. And, that's when Brendon heard a different sound. One more dull and dim, one much more deathly. The on off flicker of a flat-line.

"No! Ryan, Ryan don't! Don't you dare leave me!" Brendon said as he grabbed the boy's chin. "Ryan!"

Ryan's eyes fluttered open once more, and he smiled. It wasn't a pained one either, it was a shy happy one. It was peaceful and charming. There was no words for it other then, well, Ryan.

"Don't you dare leave me, Ryan!" Brendon was crying now. "Please! Please, Ryan! Please, don't leave me! Ryan! I-I-I-I love you! I love you Ryan, don't you dare leave me. Please, Ryan!"

This smile faded soon though, and his eyes fluttered shut. Never to open again. The noise of the room started to die. The doctors stopped what they were doing and nurses suddenly stopped talking. Everyone, everything, went silent until only one sound was audible, the dull condemning buzz of the heart monitor's flat-line.

"No! No, oh god no! Ryan, no! Please. Please, Ryan. I love you Ryan. I love you, I love you...don't leave me, Ryan! I love you. I love you. George Ryan Ross III don't you dare leave me, I love you!" Brendon partly whispered in a mumble and partly screamed at Ryan, praying that the dull buzzing flat-line would resume to the normal even beeping, signaling the corpse was alive once more.

"He's gone." A doctor spoke softly as he went to leave the room

Brendon jumped up from Ryan's shoulder and his seat. All eyes were on him, Ryan's face concerned and Jon and Spencer's confused looks. Brendon let out a sigh as he wiped a cold sweat from his brow. It was just a dream, he was still in the air-port, Ryan at his side. Quickly, he grabbed Ryan's hand, causing Ryan to look at him confused.

"Dude, you okay?" Jon asked before Ryan could recover from the slight shock of Brendon's rash actions.

"Yea, bad dream." Brendon said as he sat back down.

"Well, I'm here now." Ryan smiled, almost as if he knew what Brendon had been dreaming about.

"Thanks Ryro." Brendon said and gave Ryan's hand a squeeze. "What time is it?"

"3:48. We still have an hour and a half left here." Spencer chimed in, his voice monotonous and bored.

"Well, good." Brendon's was stern. "'Cause Jon, me and you need to talk."

Ryan's expression was a bit shocked, Brendon normally didn't hide anything from anyone, and Jon had done nothing wrong. Spencer just looked at Jon, who stood and followed Brendon. The air-port was still swamped with people, flights were still being delayed. It took a minute or two, but Brendon found a table with two chairs that was unoccupied and sat down. Jon sat across from him, his facial expression concerned. You have to do this, don't back out now Urie! Brendon thought to himself bitterly and with a sigh.

"What's wrong Brendon?" Jon asked as he crossed his legs.

"Well, it's just, that...well, that dream I had. I-well...Ryan sorta...died." Brendon stared at the table.

"Ouch. That's harsh." Jon sounded sympathetic.

"Yea. And, Jon. Well, there's something I have to tell him. And, I don't want to have to tell him as he dies. Jon, he has to know!"

"What exactly does he 'have to know'?" Jon tried not to sound too nosy.

"Jon...I-I...I love him." Brendon swallowed hard.

"So, tell him." Jon lightly chuckled.

"Wait...there's no 'What?!', 'Your Crazy!', 'Ew!', or well... the dreaded seven letter word?" Brendon just couldn't bring himself to say it.

"Come on Brendon. It's a bit obvious. And you two were made for each other."

"Don't tell anyone." Brendon winced at the painful high school memories of discrimination and harsh bullying.

"I won't" Jon crossed his heart, twice.

"Thanks, Jon." Brendon said with a smile.

"Your welcome."

With that, they both stood. Brendon looked at a wall clock, they had only managed to kill fifteen minutes. It felt like an hour. Slowly, the two made their way through the thick and disgruntled crowds back to Spencer and Ryan. Brendon resumed his seat between the two, who were each on their DS's, laughing at what one of them said. Brendon smiled contently as he looked at Ryan's screen, which was on Picto-Chat with a message from Spencer that read; "Remember when we blew up that Gatorade bottle full of gasoline?" That story never got old, even though Brendon had heard it at least five-hundred times. Ryan gave Brendon a smile, melting him on the inside, as Brendon once more laid his head on Ryan's shoulder. And, when Ryan and Brendon weren't paying attention, Jon gave Spencer a thumbs up and flashed him a smile, it was returned with a curt nod.

They ended up waiting yet another hour before they boarded their flight. The air-port was still swamped. And each one of them ran to the boarding station when it was finally announced that; "Flight 827 to Tampa is now boarding." Brendon and Spencer were the first ones on the plane. Each one saved a seat for Jon and Ryan, who were on the plane a few minutes later. Ryan sat next to Brendon, leaving Jon to Spencer.

"Ladies and Gentlemen, please fasten your seat-belts, we will be taking off momentarily." The pilot announced over the loud speaker.

Ryan easily followed directions, fasten the belt simply and quickly, it was Brendon who needed help this time. The belt was stuck. Ryan sat there, trying to stifle his laughter, as Brendon struggled with the it, cursing the belt under his breath. Jon and Spencer were in an uproar behind him at the faces he made. And still, it was stuck.

"You want some help, Brenny?" Ryan asked innocently as possible.

"Please?" Brendon almost whined.

Behind them, Jon and Spencer exchanged glances and smiles. Ryan struggled with the belt for a moment, leaning over Brendon, his hand on Brendon's upper thigh to support himself as he did so. Brendon's face was burning with a tick red blush. Especially when Ryan finally was able to free the belt and fasten Brendon in, his hand slipping inwards more-so on Brendon's crotch as he did so.

"Sorry. That was a bit...awkward." Ryan apologized as he returned to his seat.

"It's okay." Brendon was still red.

Jon and Spencer smirked, only one knew the truth, but both knew the potential.