You're Right That It's Wrong To Spend the Night Alone

"Brendon," he whimpered, pushing close to me, wrapping his arms around my neck.

"Ry," I whispered back against his lips. Then, "Ry!"

He flinched, pulling away. "B-Brendon, I'm sorry. I'm sorry." He started climbing off of my lap, but I held onto his wrist tightly.
He winced, trying to pull away from me, twisting his arm around.

With those motions alone, I knew something was wrong.
I was easily much stronger than he was. That was probably why it was so easy to hold his hands together with one hand and pull his sleeve up with the other.

"Brendon-"

"Ry..." I'm sure I looked shocked. Terrified. Angry red marks ran up and down his arm, complemented with pink puckered scars.

His eyes ran over with tears. "I'm sorry-"

I crushed him to my chest, holding him tightly and burying my face in his hair. "Why would you-"

"I'm sorry. I'm so sorry, Brendon. I'm sorry," he was choking out. "I'm sorry, I'll stop, I didn't mean to-"

"You 'didn't mean to'? Ryan..." I was gushing tears.

He licked his lips. "Brendon..."

"I love you, Ryan. I fucking love you. I'm sorry that I drove you to the point of jumping. I'm sorry that I drove you to the point of cutting yourself. And I'm sorry that I let you think that out of anybody in the world, I'd choose anybody over you. I'm sorry."

Our lips crashed together once more.

That night, we laid together in his bed, quiet.

"You know I love you, right, Ryan?" I asked him seriously, my lips moving against his neck, and he nods. "Good. Cause I do. Love you, I mean."

He giggled. "Shut up, Brenny."

I ran my nose up his neck. "Was this really all it took to make you happy?"

He nodded silently.

"Well, I'm glad I can finally make you smile."