I Am Not Afraid To Walk This World Alone.

Spencer looked down at his phone, glowing under the table on which his beer sat, condensation dripping down the glass slowly, temptingly. But he refused to drink until Brendon was there to drink with him. He knew Brendon had a tendency to be late, so he had hope yet – even if he was getting more frustrated at how warm his beer was getting by the second. He tapped his fingers on the mahogany, regretting ever believing he would make it at the time he set. Spencer was a relatively organized person, which only made people question why Brendon was one of his best friends in the first place. He had always told people it was Ryan’s fault, but now it hurt to even bring up the name, that only would probably lead Urie to tears – which was the last thing Spencer wanted to do. He took a deep breath, swore under his breath and gave up, picking up the tall, crystal cold glass and sipping it’s contents. It fell down his throat, and his thirst led him to compare the drink to standing beneath a waterfall with his mouth wide open. It felt like he was living this moment of his life for the millionth time, seeing as this was the result of so many arrangements to go for drink with Urie, whom had never showed up within half an hour of the scheduled time. But what Spencer didn’t know, was that this time, Brendon had no intentions of showing up ever again.

~~~

And there he stood. Naked feet, gripping the cold, heartless tiles. Eyes closed, head back, hands in fists. Wiping the tears from his eyes one final time. With his eyes still closed he reaches out and grips the small, lifeless bottle. He knows that the bottle is white, he doesn’t have to look. He traces the edges of the bottle with his finger and then opens his eyes abruptly. He flicks the cap open, knowing he has already broken the child lock. He stares forward, completing these actions without so much as a glance. His pupils are as big as his iris. He closes his eyes a final time, and empties the entire contents of the bottle in to his sweaty hand. The pills are slowly and mildly dissolving in his hands from the sweat, using it as a form of liquid to eat them alive. He sobs once more and tips his head back with speed and simultaneously throws the pills into his mouth with such aggression you may have though he was trying to give himself a punch in the mouth. He grabs the tap in front of him and turns it, releasing the water into his mouth. It tastes bitter. His whole mind tastes bitter. Bittersweet memories of lover’s lust and childhood pastimes flood his mind, making him sick. Or maybe that’s just the pills. He feels regret and fulfilment from his decision, though he contemplates phoning somebody. But he knows he only has one person to bother, and he doesn’t want Spencer to rush him to hospital again. He takes a ragged breath and slides down to the floor, his back against the cabinet. His mind is flooding out of his ears and spilling all over the floor. He tilts his head back, hitting the same cabinet his body rests on and he screams out in despair. He feels selfish. He knows he shouldn’t have done this. He knows it. But who really cares? The only person he has left to care about him is Spencer. And he’s probably mad about how he stood him up earlier on.

~~~

The engine has been turned off for a long time now. About an hour. And he still isn’t sure if he wants to do this. Well, he knows he definitely wants to, he’s just not sure if he can. He hits the steering wheel hard with his fist. He wishes he had never left Brendon’s side. Wishes he had never left the band in the first place. Wishes he could just go back in time. Or at least go back. He would trade everything he’s ever had for just one intimate moment with him. He puts his keys down and slams the door shut so he can’t go back and immediately regrets it. He curses multiple times loudly and then quickly storms towards the house, hoping he’ll get in before he changes his mind again. To his surprise the door is ajar already, leaving him confused. In his haste, he forgets to ring the doorbell, but wanders in instead. The house is cold and black. He suddenly wants to retreat. He feels although something might jump out at him any moment, and he doesn’t even know if Brendon is in. He could have a new partner for all he knows. He hasn’t talked to him in over two years for pity’s sake. All of a sudden he realizes how ridiculous he’s being. How ridiculous this whole thing is. He takes a step backwards, but only to be halted by the sound metal hitting metal. Hard. His fears suddenly overshadowed by his love, he runs towards the noise. After what seems like a decade, but in reality is just a few moments, he reaches the kitchen. Brendon looks up at Ryan with the equal amount of disbelief you would expect from someone whom had just had a conversation with R2-D2 whilst riding a dodo bird. But Ryan isn’t returning his soul mate’s look. He can’t take his eyes off the blood-stained butcher’s knife between Brendon’s legs. Or the white bottle that had only recently toppled off the counter. Brendon senses this, but he is too drained to do anything about it. He simply sits on the floor, legs and arms spread out wide and exposed. His arms sport bloody slashes across his wrists. His face shows no signs of pain. Or shock. Or anything. His eyes begin to droop.

“No! No! Not yet! Please...no..”

Ryan cries out in sobs as he kneels down to see his old lover, old friend. His eyes open slightly and he smiles at the sight of his other half. Ryan makes no hesitation in kissing the man. As weak as he is, Brendon uses every last inch of his heart and soul to kiss him back. It is easily the most romantic kiss, either has ever tasted. They missed this. They missed this so much. But Brendon begins to become limp. At this, Ryan pulls away, scared. Brendon looks him in the eye with such beautiful sincerity Ryan’s tears flow even faster.

“I don’t know if it’s just the just the drugs, or if you’re really here, but either way...”
Ryan squeezes his friend’s hand, willing him, urging him to continue.
“Either way...I’m..I’m glad you’re the last thing I saw.”

He finishes with an exhale, large enough to let Ryan know that he was finally gone. He screams his sobs out as if they’re choking him, scratching his throat on the way out. He kisses his long lost friend for the last time, and pulls him into a hug so tight that he wouldn’t have survived it if he were still alive. He hears the door creak once more, followed by rushing footsteps. He turns his head to see Spencer, standing empty handed with his jaw dropped. With eyeliner and tears streaming down his face, Ryan buries his head into Brendon’s chest, taking in his familiar scent. All the while repeating obsessively,

“I was too late. I was too late”