The Prettiest of Liars

i. i can't begin to let you know just what i'm feeling

Gerard sighed heavily, sliding open the back door and slipping outside, grabbing his cigarette box and lighter from the counter as he slid the door shut behind him. He pressed the cigarette between his lips, holding the flame to it, inhaling deeply and pressing his hand to his forehead. This was getting to be a little too much. He exhaled, watching the smoke disappear into the darkness of the sky. He shoved the cigarette box and lighter into his jacket pocket, walking to the edge of the balcony and leaning against the railing.

He was trying to be a good boyfriend, trying to be a good person in general. He was trying not to talk to Ryan like he was a teenager (even though he practically was). He was trying to ignore the smell of marijuana on the jacket hanging in the hall closet, the scent of booze on the boy's breath when he came in after the sun had already set. He tried not to play every worst case scenario over and over in his head, every horrible possibility. And if he even brought up his own experiences, Ryan would shut him off with a glare and some pointed comment. "My dad was an alcoholic, Gee. I know."

Ryan was in New York to work on Panic's new album and he'd had a week off. Gerard had asked him to stay and Ryan had tried to say no. He'd mentioned he was going to parties all week, that he was going to be drinking. Gerard hadn't cared. Now the roles were reversed and Gerard seemed to care too much, while Ryan didn't care at all.

The back door slid open and Ryan stepped outside, crossing his arms over his chest in defense of the night chill. "Hey," he said softly, walking over and slipping his arms around the older's waist. He pressed his face into Gerard's shoulder.

"Hey." It was a short reply, but Gerard brought his free hand up to clumsily pat Ryan's hair. "Was it a fun party?"

"Not really." The boy sighed, one of his arms leaving Gerard's side to come up and brush the hair off his neck. Ryan pressed his lips against the exposed skin. "I love you. I'm sorry I'm so fucked up."

"We're all fucked up," Gerard mumbled, not sure what else to say, not sure what else he could say.

Ryan nodded. "I know. But I'm not apologizing for them."

Gerard pressed his cigarette to his lips, searching for the words. "You . . . you don't have to apologize, Ryan."

"You're a prettier liar than me," was all the boy said in return. And they stood there, staring at the buildings surrounding them, the windows with their curtains shut. Gerard finished his cigarette and Ryan tried to fight the dull ache that was already starting to press in at his temples.

ii. now the red ones make me fly & the blue ones help me fall

It had been three months since Panic had finished recorded in New York and Ryan had gone home to Las Vegas. Gerard hadn't heard from him in two weeks, despite sending text messages and leaving voicemails. He'd stared at his computer screen several times in the past week or so, wondering if he should just buy a plane ticket. That's what he had been doing when his phone rang. The caller ID showed it was his brother and Gerard sighed as he answered. "Hello?"

"Hey, Gee?" Mikey sounded worried, maybe a little uncertain. "I, uh . . . talked to Pete today." When Gerard didn't say anything, he tried again. "About Ryan."

Gerard set his laptop on the coffee table and reached for his box of Marlboros, wanting something to do with his hands, wanting to detach something, even if it was just his fingers. "Yeah? So, uh, what did he say?"

"I guess Ryan went off the grid for about a week or something. Started seeing a doctor and now he's on meds for depression." Mikey felt awkward telling his brother this. Gerard should have been the one to tell him. Pete wasn't even supposed to tell. Apparently Ryan had sworn the four people who knew to secrecy (Pete being one of them) and said, specifically, that he didn't want Gerard to know yet. Mikey, for being an incredibly loyal person, didn't feel all that guilty about selling Pete out. He was much more loyal to Gerard than his ex-boyfriend.

The older of the brothers, leaned forward, pressing the cigarette to his mouth, his fingers to his temples. The phone was wedged between his shoulder and ear. "Christ." He exhaled.

"C-Can I do anything?" Mikey offered.

Gerard shook his head before remembering his brother couldn't see. "No." He sighed again. "No, but thanks . . . for calling. Letting me know. I'm going to Vegas."

"He's staying with Pete," Mikey added.

Gerard considered that for a moment before shaking off the negative thoughts, the images of Ryan tangled up with Pete. Ryan keeping secrets didn't mean he was a cheater. It just meant he was being an asshole. "Okay. I'm going to L.A."

"I hope it's all okay."

"Thanks, Mikey."

iii. now I'm back in the middle of the day that starts it all

"You did what?" Pete asked, voice loud enough to make Ryan turn his head and look. They were outside, on separate sides of the yard, but still within sight and sound of each other. Pete saw Ryan's eyes on him and turned away, his back to the boy. "I told you not to tell him," Pete hissed. "Ryan's going to kill me."

"Gerard's going to kill you too," Mikey returned. "And he could have easily gotten it out of that Brendon kid. I heard he can't keep his mouth shut for shit. Probably learned it from you."

"Oh, hahaha. You're just so fucking funny," Pete snapped, kicking his foot at the fence. "So what am I supposed to tell Ryan then?"

Mikey shrugged. "I wouldn't tell him anything. Gerard'll take care of it. I'm going to go now. Have fun," he added brightly, almost for spite.

Pete didn't say anything, just ended the call and jammed the phone viciously into his hoodie pocket. He allowed himself two deep breaths before he turned around, taking a step back when he realized Ryan had snuck up on him and was now less than a foot away. "I, uh. Hi."

"Tell me what?" Ryan asked, voice soft. "Who was that?"

Pete's mouth suddenly felt dry and he swallowed, trying to remoisten it while desperately searching for a lie. "Shit, dude. You scared me." Still searching.

"Who was that?" Ryan repeated, not dissuaded.

"Brendon," Pete lied. "He, uh, had a party at your apartment and wrecked the place."

Ryan shook his head, clearly not believing it. His eyes were hard, fixed, as he stared down at the older man. Sometimes he loved being taller than Pete. Right now was one of those times. "I'll find out," he warned.

Pete didn't doubt that. "It's not a big deal," he lied. "I wasn't . . . don't worry about it. Do you want to eat lunch?" He averted his eyes and started walking into the house.

vi. i think i'll blow my brains against the ceiling

Ryan was in the guest room trying to sleep when the light knock came on the door. He groaned, turning to look at his alarm clock. It was after two. "Are you fucking kidding me, Pete?" he muttered, rolling his eyes. "Come in!" He didn't even bother rolling over. "What do you want?" he asked as he heard the footsteps, the bed sink down.

"Too much, most likely."

Ryan's eyes popped open and he froze for a moment before scrambling to sit up, turning his head, staring at Gerard who seemed to have magically appeared on his bed. He reached a hand out, slowly, pressing it against Gerard's chest, waiting for his boyfriend to melt into shadow, waiting to wake up. "Pete told you?" His voice was barely a whisper.

Gerard shook his head. "Mikey."

Ryan nodded. "Right." He licked his lips, swallowing against the lump in his throat. "So, what do you know?"

"That you're ignoring me and taking meds." Ryan's hand was still pressed to Gerard's chest and the older boy brought his hand up, fingers circling around Ryan's wrist. "You could have told me," he said, voice thick. "You should have told me."

The boy shook his head, fingers twitching as he began to feel Gerard's heartbeat against his palm. "I didn't . . . I mean, it's not that simple."

"I'm your boyfriend. It should be."

Ryan blinked, lowered his eyes, fighting the burn of tears that were threatening to spill. "I overdosed," he whispered. He sniffled. "We were flying." His voice got a little louder, somewhat manic. Gerard thought it sounded beautiful, but knew he shouldn't. "We were flying. Pills and shots and all sorts of shit. I don't . . . not usually." He brought his free hand up to wipe at his eyes. "Doctor says I was self-medicating."

"You . . . you weren't trying to die, right?" Gerard asked tentatively.

Ryan shook his head, looking up finally, his eyes shining. "We were flying," he said again, voice cracking. And then he fell against Gerard, his body shaking from soft sobs. "I just wanted to fly."

Gerard brought his arms up, pulling the younger boy closer to him, tighter, trying to blend their bodies together, taste Ryan's scent, feel his tears. He just wanted to bury himself in Ryan, burn away all the darkness the boy had lost himself to. "I'm here," he said, voice hot. "I'm always here, Ry. You don't have to hide from me."

The boy didn't say anything, just continued to cry. Gerard stroked his hair, a hand sliding under Ryan's shirt to stroke at his spine. And eventually the sobs lessened, the tears slowed. And Ryan sat up, reaching for a corner of the sheet to wipe at his eyes and nose. "I don't want to trigger you," he said, looking miserable. "I don't want to be the reason you ever go back to that."

Gerard shook his head, leaning forward to press their lips together. He could taste the salt of the tears on Ryan's mouth, slipped his tongue past the boy's lips to steal a gasp. When he pulled away, he kept their foreheads pressed together. "Don't," he murmured. "Don't worry about being strong for me. Be strong for you. I'll be strong for me, okay?"

Ryan sniffled, lifting a hand up to stroke at Gerard's cheek. "If you want to leave, I won't blame you."

"I'm not going anywhere. Not unless you're going with me."

v. and we'll fly home, you and i

They were on the balcony of Gerard's apartment again, staring out. Gerard was smoking and Ryan was leaning over the railing, staring at the cement a few stories under them. Gerard's arm was around his waist, trying to be comforting, but also trying to keep Ryan anchored, ensuring the boy wouldn't try to fly again. There had been nightmares over the past week, the boy desperately talking about wings. It wasn't such an obvious struggle in the day time, but the sun was about to set so he wasn't taking any chances.

"We're supposed to go on tour in a couple months," Ryan said suddenly. "Right after the album comes out."

"Do you think you'll be okay?" Gerard asked, dropping his cigarette butt in the soda can sitting on the railing. Instead of lighting another, he rested his chin on Ryan's shoulder, waiting for an answer.

The boy was silent for a moment, no sounds except for the city and his own deep breaths, Gerard's shallow ones. "I think I will, yeah."

Gerard would go with Ryan if the boy asked, but it's not worth saying because Ryan would never ask. Ryan will be okay, Gerard knows. He just needed to make sure Ryan knew it, too. He lets go of the boy to light another cigarette and Ryan turns, leaning his back against the railing now, ignoring the potential fall behind him. He let Gerard kiss him, ignoring the taste of cigarette smoke.

"We're okay, right?" he asked, curious, tilting his head to side. He looked like the birds he dreamed about. Or, at least, Gerard imagined he did.

He shook his head, pressing his lips against Ryan's forehead as the boy's expression grew confused. "Better than that," he replied.

Ryan nodded, a soft smile making his lips part slightly, a bit of his red tongue visible. "I'll be better than that too, then."

"I know." Gerard took another drag off his cigarette and Ryan reached out to grab his hand, smile still on his face, looking prettier than anything Gerard had ever seen in his life.