Sleep.

Beep. Beep. Beep.
Ryan’s heart rate is steady, that Brendon can tell. Besides that, all he knows is that Ryan’s eyes are still closed, his body motionless as it has been for almost a year.
Brendon’s reaching breaking point, he doesn’t know how many more hours he can spend staring at Ryan blank, pallid face, urging his eyes to open or his hand to move or...something, anything that shows some sign of life. It’s been too long and Brendon’s losing the last memories that he possesses of Ryan before the accident; the sound of his voice when he talks or sings or laughs, the exact hue of his wide eyes, that wondrous little grin that always made Brendon feel warm inside, no matter what the circumstances. It’s really not fair because those little fragments of Ryan are what Brendon needs and craves so much to retain an image of him in his head for the future if he doesn’t...

Brendon sighs and pulls his fingers through his hair, he can’t really bring himself o think what life would be like without Ryan, even if it’s just Ryan’s diluted presence in that hospital bed. He can hear ‘Last Christmas’ playing somewhere not too far off in the hospital and there’s gaudy tinsel draped everywhere in some lame attempt to make the place look more cheerful. Brendon had been quite surprised when no one had draped tinsel over Ryan, as much a part of the furniture as the bedside cabinet to everyone besides Brendon.

Then Brendon realises that, really, Ryan’s not going to wake up. It’s been too long for there to be anything left of Ryan besides chemicals and useless muscles and bones. Then his eyes sting when he realises what he has to do, he’s not going to stop himself from crying because he has to say goodbye and he really doesn’t want to. He reaches towards Ryan, hand shaking and curls his fingers around Ryan’s stiff hand.
“Ry,” He croaks, feeling more than a little stupid. He’d tried to talk to him in the beginning when he was all bruises and cut lips, it hadn’t done anything though so he’d settled for singing to him every once in a while in case he forgot what his voice sounded like. “I um...I really...” And he realises he doesn’t know what to say, can’t put his feelings into words because there’s no help from Ryan, just this corpse of a person who will probably never know what he’s saying.
“Jesus, this is hard.” He hisses, wiping at his cheeks with his sleeve. “I, I love you, Ry. I really fucking do. I just...I can’t do this anymore. It’s been too long, I miss you too much. I always convinced myself you’d wake up ‘cause I didn’t think I could live if you didn’t, but I have to y’know?” Then Brendon chuckles sadly because, well Ryan can’t answer. He sniffs and tries to think of what to say, how do you say goodbye to your boyfriend of...four years, -really?- when he’s as good as dead?
“Well, I don’t know what it’s like for you or anything but this is pretty shit for me. So I gotta’ go, okay? I wish you could fucking answer me, it’d make this a lot easier.” He sighs shakily, face stained and brings Ryan’s hand as close as possible, meeting the distance so he can pull it close into his abdomen, feeling this slight warmth that he wants to ignore. He cries really then, hiccupping through the tears as his chest aches and he just wants to lie beside Ryan and sleep or die along with him. He bends his head closer and presses those full, pink lips to the freckled skin on the back of Ryan’s hand before moving to kiss each of his knuckles and each of his fingertips before laying their interlaced hands back on the rough sheets.
“I love you.” He chokes through thick, embarrassing sobs that he really hopes can’t be heard through the door. “I’ll miss you, okay? Remember me?” He shakes his head, doubting that Ryan will and kisses his hand one more time.
Then he whimpers and leaps backwards, falling on his ass and skidding across the floor.

Maybe it’s a muscle twitch, maybe Brendon imagined it. Brendon’s delusional, nothing happened, he’s going to go home and get drunk and cry just like he planned.
But he can’t of course, because Ryan fucking squeezed his hand and now he can’t leave until he’s absolutely sure that he did. Or didn’t, either way, it doesn’t matter.

He sits, on the edge of the bed this time and pulls Ryan’s one, limp hand between his two.
“Ryan?” He whispers, “You there?” He trains his eyes on Ryan’s face, but his eyes stay firmly shit, dark eyelashes casting long, spiky shadows on his cheekbones, same as always.
His lips twitch. Not quite a smile, just a slight movement of his lips and Brendon is crying again because, Ryan might actually be moving and, jesus, it’s a lot. Yet there’s still this nagging feeling in the back of his mind that’s convinced it’s just his imagination, tricking him into having hope.
“Think you could wake up for me, baby?” Brendon whispers and gets this total déjà vu of the previous year, when Ryan had only been comatose for a couple of weeks and Brendon was still treating him like a sleeping boyfriend rather than a terminal rock.
Ryan is motionless and silent and Brendon drops his head, realizing it was some fluke. It’s five minutes later when there comes this soft, groaning noise, barely audible to Brendon. He immediately starts grinning and squeezing Ryan’s hand tighter, tears still trailing down his red cheeks.
“Come on, Ry, please!” Brendon shakes out, still clutching his hand.

And then Ryan’s eyes are fluttering ever so slightly and Brendon recalls the exact shade of brown they were. His heart is pounding because, jesus this can’t be real.
“B...Br...” He’s trying to speak but his voice is lower than a whisper and his eyes are still heavily lidded so that Brendon is scared he’ll slip away again. He reaches out and touches Ryan’s soft cheek before bending to kiss his nose and look at his eyes because he’s really there, he is.
“Don’...leamme.” Ryan blinks oh so slowly and it takes a minute but Brendon understands and continues crying and feeling like a pathetic mess.
“I won’t Ry, fuck, I won’t.” He whispers and runs a thumb over Ryan’s soft lips as they try to smile.
“Lo’...you.” Ryan breathes, eyes still open as they’ll stay until he falls asleep that night, still in his hospital bed but alive.
He’s alive.
Ryan pouts his lips slightly, as much as he can really manage and Brendon leans down, presses their lips together softly, terrified to damage him in his delicate state and pulls his fingers through Ryan’s hair, worshipping his presence.
Of course, he has to call doctors and nurses and Ryan’s family but for now, just right now, Ryan’s awake and they’re together again and it’s kind of magical.