Perfect

Ryan loved ballet. Not because of the way the dancers were able to move effortlessly and oh so beautifully; but because of how thin they were. Brendon thought he just loved the ballet like any other person did. He didn’t know that Ryan’s obsession had anything to do with anything other than dancing.

Ryan would find pictures of dancers and add them to the enormous collage that he had been forming for months on the inside of his closet door. Each morning when Ryan went to get his clothes for the day he would always take a moment to stare longingly at the flat stomachs, the long legs—sticks that emerged from the tulle of their tutus. Legs that were limber; legs that Ryan wanted. If only he could have the perfection that the ballerinas were able to obtain.

While Brendon was in the bathroom, Ryan would stand in front of the mirror in the bedroom before putting his shirt on and stand sideways, sucking in his stomach and admiring the way it looked. If only he could lose that weight. He pulled on his shirt. He looked at his legs—they didn’t even compare to the dancers’. He pulled on his jeans.

Brendon came out of the bathroom (smelling wonderful as usual) with a smile on his face.

“Morning,” he said, kissing Ryan quickly. “Do you want some breakfast? I was going to make some food for myself.”

Ryan thought of the flat stomachs.

“No thanks,” he answered, smiling at Brendon. “I’m not hungry right now.”

“Okay,” Brendon said. He walked out of the bedroom and Ryan followed him into the kitchen. Brendon pulled out a pan and set it on the stove before going to the fridge for the eggs. “I bought tickets for the ballet tonight.”

Ryan smiled.

“You did?” he questioned. Brendon grinned at Ryan before pulling an egg out of the carton.

“Yeah,” he answered. He knew how much Ryan loved the ballet. It wasn’t Brendon’s favorite thing to go and do, but just the fact that Ryan was happy made Brendon happy. “We’ll be seeing Swan Lake; your favorite.”

“Thanks Brendon. I can’t wait,” Ryan said. At that moment, Ryan’s stomach growled loudly. Brendon laughed.

“Sounds like you’re hungrier than you thought,” he said. He pulled another egg out of the carton. “I’m making you some breakfast.”

Ryan wanted to object, or just do something to stop Brendon from making him breakfast, but he didn’t want to hurt Brendon’s feelings; so he sat in silence, listening to the sizzle of the eggs cooking in the frying pan. Brendon put some bread in the toaster and Ryan further lost his appetite.

“So what are you doing today?” Brendon questioned as he put the finished eggs onto two separate plates.

“Going to the gym,” Ryan answered automatically. Brendon looked at him with a curious expression.

“Since when do you go to the gym?” he asked.

“Since today,” he said, forcing a smile. Brendon laughed.

“Whatever keeps you happy,” he said. He took the toast out of the toaster and started putting butter on each slice. When he was finished he picked up the two plates and handed one to Ryan. They sat at the little table in the kitchen and ate in silence. “Do you want to get some dinner before the ballet tonight?”

“Sure,” Ryan said. He choked down the rest of his food. He really was hungry and that made him feel a bit better about the food on his plate.

---

Ryan wanted to throw up. He didn’t care where he did it or that he was surrounded by people but all he knew was that he was nauseous. He had just eaten dinner with Brendon at their favorite Chinese restaurant and they were now seated in plush seats of the ballet company where Brendon had purchased the tickets. He had been fine until the dancers had come out on stage in all of their perfection and all he could think of was the weight of the food sitting in his stomach. Greasy, unhealthy garbage that wasn’t going to help him lose weight.

He was glad that they had seats by the aisle because a few minutes later and Ryan was positive he was actually going to vomit. He stood up quickly and without looking at Brendon he rushed out of the room in search of the bathroom.

He found it quickly and pushed open the door of the nearest stall before dropping to his knees quickly. He gagged a few time before his dinner finally came back up, the contents of his stomach landing in the toilet with a sickening splash. But as the food came up, the lighter Ryan began to feel and he smiled when he was done. His throat burned from the acid in his stomach but it was satisfying in a way.

He heard the door of the bathroom open and someone came in.

“Ryan?” It was Brendon. He flushed the toilet and stepped out of the stall, meeting Brendon’s worried gaze. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah,” Ryan said. “Dinner didn’t agree with me too much, but I’m fine.”

“Do you want to go home?” Brendon asked. Ryan shook his head.

“No,” he said. He turned the water on and splashed some water on his face. He leaned down and took some of the water in his mouth and swished it around before spitting it out. “Let’s go back and watch the ballet.”

---

Brendon was worried. Ever since they had seen Swan Lake Ryan had started acting differently. He always seemed to be in a bad mood, and no matter what Brendon did to try and make him feel better, Ryan always ended up mad at him.

Ryan was in an especially bad mood today. He had weighed himself that morning to find that he had gained a few pounds. He skipped breakfast, telling Brendon he didn’t have time, and went straight to the gym and worked out for a while. Now he was back and he had locked himself in the bathroom. He was really hungry and didn’t want to smell whatever it was Brendon was making. He had told him when he got back that he had grabbed something to eat at a restaurant near the gym.

That was a lie though, and now he was mad at himself. He never used to lie to him and now he seemed to be doing it all the time but he knew that Brendon wouldn’t understand.

He quietly left the bathroom and went into the bedroom. On the bed were a few ballet magazines that Ryan had subscribed to; Brendon must have put them there. He picked up the one on top of the small stack and started flipping through the pages taking in each picture; evaluating it. They were all so perfect. Every single one of them. Why couldn’t he look like that? Why did it have to be so difficult?

“I see you found your magazines.”

Ryan’s head snapped to the side and he saw Brendon standing in the doorway of the bedroom, a cautious smile on his face. Ryan looked down at the magazine momentarily before looking at Brendon again.

“Yeah,” he said quietly. It was silent for a moment.

“Are you okay?” Brendon asked. Ryan nodded his head.

“Yeah. I’m fine,” he said. He set the magazine down on the bed without closing it. He kept his eyes on the ballerina’s flat stomach. He heard footsteps and then Brendon was standing next to him. When Ryan looked over at him, he noticed that Brendon was gazing at the ballerina now.

“She’s pretty,” he said. Ryan looked back down at the picture, staring at her long legs.

“She’s perfect,” Ryan said. He felt Brendon’s arm slide around his waist. He felt disgusting.

“Not as perfect as you,” Brendon murmured, his nose touching Ryan’s neck. He felt Brendon’s warm breath on his neck and then his lips. Ryan wasn’t in the mood for this. He pulled away.

“I have to go to the bathroom,” he said, heading for the bedroom door and to the bathroom.

“I thought you were just in there,” Brendon said, but Ryan ignored him.

He felt like he was going to throw up again and locked the door before kneeling beside the toilet. He leaned over the toilet, but nothing happened. He almost began crying from the fact that nothing was coming up no matter how much he tried. He looked around the bathroom and his eyes landed on his toothbrush. He stood up and picked it up out of the holder. He stared at it for a moment before getting back next to the toilet. He hesitated for just a second before shoving the handle into this mouth, back towards his throat—this had to work. He felt the hard plastic; he gagged and pulled the handle out just as hot bile made its way up his esophagus, out of his mouth, splashing into the toilet. It wasn’t much and it burned more than when he threw up at the ballet.

“Ryan?” Brendon was knocking slightly frantically on the door. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” Ryan said, putting his toothbrush back in the holder.

“Are you sure?” he asked through the door. “It sounded like you threw up.”

“I’m fine,” he repeated more firmly. He rinsed out his mouth with the mouth wash they shared.

---

“Will you please just eat something?” Brendon insisted.

“I’m not hungry,” Ryan said, grabbing a water bottle out of the fridge. He prayed to God that his stomach wouldn’t give him away. “I have to get to the gym anyways.”

Brendon sighed as he watched Ryan walk out the door. He had noticed more recently that Ryan was different. He was more irritable, his face looked sunken in—he was starting to look like a skeleton. He wasn’t Ryan anymore.

---

Ryan had gone to the gym again and Brendon was looking at the collage of ballet dancers on the inside of Ryan’s closet when the phone rang. He was starting to think that maybe Ryan had an unhealthy obsession with the ballerina’s that had him worried. He answered the phone.

“Hello?” he said.

“Hi, could I please speak to Brendon Urie?” a woman said.

“Speaking,” he said.

“Hello, Mr. Urie,” she said. “I’m calling from St. Catherine’s Hospital. You were listed as George Ryan Ross’s emergency contact. Mr. Ross was brought to the hospital half an hour ago. He had a seizure at a nearby gym and has yet to regain consciousness.”

He didn’t know what to say. He had known that something had been wrong with Ryan… but why would he have a seizure? Without saying a word he hung up the phone and hurried out of their house and to his car. He drove to the hospital unable to think, not comprehending his surroundings. Before he knew it he was at the hospital and hurrying through the doors of the emergency room. He hurried to the nurse’s station.

“I’m here to see Ryan Ross,” he said. The woman typed in her computer.

“Are you Mr. Urie?” she asked, her voice sounded familiar. This was the woman who had called him.

“Yes,” he said quietly.

“Just a minute,” she said, picking up her phone. “Hello. Mr. Urie is here.”

Brendon watched as she listened to whoever was on the other end of the phone.

“Ok,” she said. She hung up the phone and looked at Brendon. “The doctor will be here in just a moment.”

He stood in front of the nurse’s station, looking around impatiently. A few minutes later, a gray haired doctor started towards him.

“Are you Brendon?” he asked. Brendon nodded his head and the doctor held out his hand and Brendon shook it as the doctor said, “I’m Dr. Greene.”

“Is Ryan okay?” Brendon questioned immediately.

“He should be fine,” Dr. Greene replied. He looked at the chart he was carrying. “Mr. Ross came in after having a seizure and losing consciousness. He has now regained consciousness. I just have a few questions for you before I bring you to him.”

“Yeah, that’s fine,” he said.

“Good,” he said. “Follow me to my office then.”

They started down the hallway, Brendon a step behind the doctor.

“Why did Ryan have a seizure?” Brendon asked.

“I believe Mr. Ross has an eating disorder, which is why I want to ask you a few questions,” the doctor said. Brendon stopped walking.

“An eating disorder?” he asked. How had he been so stupid—so blind? He should have seen that Ryan wasn’t eating. That he had been losing so much weight. Why hadn’t he seen it? “How…how can an eating disorder cause a seizure?”

Dr. Greene had stopped walking as well and was now facing Brendon. He took a step towards Brendon.

“Eating disorders that are severe, which Mr. Ross’s was, can cause nerve damage which can affect the brain and cause the person to have a seizure,” he said. They started walking again and a minute later they were entering Dr. Greene’s office. “Have a seat.”

Brendon sat in a chair in front of his desk while Dr. Greene sat in his own chair, setting the chart down in front of him. He picked up a pen and poised it over the paper, preparing to take some notes.

“Now first, I wanted to know if you knew how long ago this eating disorder began for Ryan?” he asked.

Brendon thought back—when had it started? And again, why hadn’t he noticed? He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees as he buried his face in his hands. The person he loved had an eating disorder and he hadn’t even fucking noticed, had never even thought it was possible, had ignored all the signs.

Brendon pulled his hands from his face. His hands were wet; he was crying now. He looked at the doctor and shook his head.

“I don’t know,” he whispered. “I never even realized he had an eating disorder.”

This was all Brendon’s fault. He knew it. If he had just noticed, he could have helped Ryan and he wouldn’t be here right now. His hands were covering his face again and he was shaking with silent sobs.

“Can I please see Ryan now?” Brendon asked a few minutes later, his voice muffled by his hands.

“Yes,” said Dr. Greene. “I’ll bring you to the room.”

Brendon stood up and wiped off his face, clearing it of his tears. He followed Dr. Greene out of his office and they went down the hallway again.

“He’s in here,” Dr. Greene said, stopping outside of a closed door. “I’ll leave you here.”

Brendon watched as Dr. Greene went back towards his office before focusing his attention on the door in front of him. He hesitated a moment, taking a deep breath and trying to prepare himself for this. He knocked quietly on the door before opening the door slowly. The first thing he saw was the IV going into Ryan’s hand and then his eyes traveled up to Ryan’s face—the sunken cheeks, the dark circles under his eyes, how he was trying to avoid Brendon’s gaze.

“I’m sorry,” Brendon whispered, tears springing to his eyes yet again. Ryan’s gaze finally met his.

“For what?” he asked quietly, his voice quiet, weak sounding. Brendon felt the hot tears sliding down his face.

“I should have noticed that you weren’t eating,” he said, his lips trembling as he spoke. “You wouldn’t be here if I had been paying attention.”

“It’s not your fault, Brendon,” Ryan said. “I did this to myself and it had nothing to do with you. Don’t beat yourself up.”

Brendon nodded his head and wiped at his eyes. He walked over to Ryan’s bed and ran his hand through Ryan’s hair.

“I’m glad you’re okay,” he said. Ryan didn’t say anything.

---

Ryan had started gaining weight again; he was starting to lose the skeletal look and he was finally going to get to go home. Brendon had visited every day he was at the hospital and helped him get through everything. They had spent hours talking and Brendon had reassured Ryan when he was given solid food.

The first thing Ryan did when he got home was go to his closet and look at his collage. He knew what he had to do. Brendon watched from the doorway of their bedroom as Ryan started to tear the pictures off the door. One by one each ballerina fluttered to the floor, landing delicately. Ryan’s hands were shaking. He had thought that doing this would be easier than it actually was. It was hard to look at the dancers, at their stomachs and legs. He tried not to let his gaze linger and kept his mind set on the task at hand. He jumped when he felt a hand on his lower back. He turned his head and met Brendon’s eyes.

“Do you want any help?” he asked quietly.

“No, thank you,” Ryan said quietly. “I have to do this myself.”

“Okay,” he said. “Just let me know if you need anything.”

Brendon leaned forward, kissing Ryan softly before leaving the room. Ryan started pulling the pictures off the door again, this time a smile on his face and his hands more steady. Knowing that Brendon was here for him brought him an unexplainable amount of comfort and support. He knew that with Brendon he would be able to get through anything, and this was proof.

As the collage got smaller, Ryan felt more confident. When he was done, he picked up the pile of pictures lying on the floor and carried them to the kitchen where he unceremoniously dumped them into the garbage bag. He went back into the bedroom and picked up the unread ballet magazines. They went into the garbage too. Ticket stubs, programs, other ballet related materials; all in the garbage. All gone and out of his life. Good riddance, he thought.

He joined Brendon on the couch in the living room when he was done where Brendon was watching something on TV. Ryan leaned his head on Brendon’s shoulder. Nothing could ever be more perfect than this.