Cancer

Banner by Insane Gravity. <3

[If you didn't go back and reread the end of the previous chapter, you might want to before you read this, or you'll probably get confused. I added a little chunk onto the end. Sorry for the inconvenience.]

Ryan opened the door for me and I walked past him into his dark apartment, purposely not looking at his face. I stood there alone in his small kitchen and, behind me, he flipped on the lights.

"You want something to drink?" he offered, his tone noticeably softer now. He moved slowly over the counter, where he picked up an already-opened bottle of wine and filled a plastic cup halfway with it.

"No thanks," I murmured.

"Are you sure?" He shot me a concerned look over his shoulder as he shoved the cork back into the wine bottle. "I can get you water or something."

"No, I'm fine, thanks," I insisted, forcing a smile. My stomach still felt queasy after all the night's events--I didn't want to take my chances with putting anything inside it.

He smiled back (his looked more real, I was sure) and, holding his cup of wine in one hand, led me into the living room area, turning on more lights as he went. He sat down on one of the couches and patted the seat next to him; I opted for the couch perpendicular to his instead and he looked only mildly disappointed.

We sat in silence for a while, the only sound being Ryan sipping his wine quietly as we stared out over the twinkling lights of the city through the enormous floor-to-ceiling windows that spanned the entire far wall. It was a beautiful sight, and it calmed me down a little. I don't know how it happened, but somehow, over the course of everything that had happened to me since I had first moved to Vegas, I had come to love the city.

I kept waiting for Ryan to break the silence by bringing up whatever this urgent "something" was that he apparently wanted to talk about so badly, but he never did. I studied his face for a moment, searching for answers there, but his expression was as blank and unreadable as ever. Whether it was because of the wine or the fact that he had me here now and there was nothing I could do about it, he was much more relaxed than he had ben in the car.

I was distracted from this train of thought by the open door about ten feet back from where Ryan currently sat. The bedroom beyond it was dark and more sparse than I remembered it being, the white bedspread freakishly neat and smooth. It reminded me of something.

"So where's Pam?" I tried to sound as casual as possible, in case it was a sensitive subject for him. Still, I was hoping that he had been telling the truth earlier and she just had other plans tonight, or she had gone back to California to do more photography or whatever--but it didn't matter where she was as long as they were engaged and he loved her and not me, as Brendon had insisted he did so vehemently.

As usual, my hopes didn't last long.

Ryan stared down gloomily at the cup in his hand, swirling it around slightly so that I could hear the wine inside sloshing against the sides of the cup from where I sat. "We broke up," he said. His voice was cold and matter-of-fact.

My heart began to pound furiously in my chest. Forcing my racing thoughts into submission, I struggled to keep calm as I said, "But I thought you said--"

"Forget what I said, Kelsey," said Ryan darkly, his eyes suddenly piercing as he looked up and met my gaze.

I could only stare back stupidly. "I thought you were engaged."

"We were."

"Then...what...?" I couldn't find the words, and the condescending look he gave me then only left me even more tongue-tied. "I don't...I don't understand," I managed.

He chuckled once humorlessly, almost derisively. "It just didn't work out. She wasn't the one for me."

There was a hardness about his face that made it seem like he was trying to say something else other than the words that were coming out of his mouth, but I just didn't have the mental capacity at the moment to decipher all his coded hints.

"...Oh," I said finally. "Well, I'm... I'm sorry."

He shrugged, leaning forward to place his newly-emptied cup on the coffee table. "It's okay. I'm happier without her, to be honest. I mean, she took the break-up pretty hard, but she'll get over it."

I stared at him, bewildered by this new, callous Ryan. "Right," was all I could think to say. "Sure."

We both fell silent for a while. I was expecting for him to make another stab at conversation, or at least turn on some music or the TV, at some point, but he never did. And as awkward as it should have been, we knew each other well enough that the silence between us was comfortable. I was grateful for it, even: it gave me a chance to be alone with my thoughts after what just might have been the most emotionally draining night of my whole life.

But the night wasn't over yet.

After a few minutes had passed, I got up and wandered over to the huge windows overlooking the city and just stared out in silence.

"It's beautiful, isn't it?"

Startled, I jumped when his voice came from just inches away from my ear. I turned around and he was standing right behind me, so close that I could feel the heat radiating off of his small, frail body.

"Yeah," I breathed, too stunned by his unexpected proximity to even move away. "It really is."

He smiled a little, and when he spoke next, his breath blew a few strays wisps of hair away from my face. "Well, I'm glad your opinion of the city has changed. I remember when you used to absolutely hate it."

I remembered those days too. Thoughts of Brendon in those days, always cheerful and upbeat, competed with memories of my mother, of the stern warnings about "Vegas boys" I had replayed in my head over and over again all my life. I remembered Vegas the way I used to see it, through the cloudy filter of manufactured ideas--the scapegoat city. I remembered Brendon in his new apartment, Brendon hurting me by accident...or maybe it was me hurting me...

I laughed a little, staring down at my feet sheepishly; his larger ones nearly touched mine toe-to-toe. "I never really hated the city," I murmured. "I just hated what it stood for, in my mind. And I guess I still sort of do."

I didn't expect Ryan to respond to that. What was there to say? Well, he said it anyway.

"...What does the city stand for, Kelsey?" he asked, and when I dared to look up again, his eyes were intense, boring into mine.

"I don't..." The burning look in his eyes muddied up my thoughts, confused the words I had meant to get out until I couldn't even remember what they were. "I don't know."

"What?" he pressed, frowning still more heavily.

Shaking my head, I let out a single humorless laugh. "Look at me, Ryan. Look at what's happened to me." His sad eyes stared back into mine, mirroring my expression, I was sure, and I knew he understood. "That's what it stands for."

The look on his face softened to one of sympathy. "That can happen anywhere, Kelsey," he whispered, reaching up to push a strand of hair out of my face tenderly.

"Of course it can," I sighed. I looked away. "I just can't make myself realize it."

He was quiet for so long that I finally looked up to see why he had fallen silent. There was a hesitant look on his face, like he wanted to say something but couldn't quite bring himself to.

"What, Ryan?"

He sighed. "Do you remember when you first found out that Panic got signed, and you came over to my house and we talked in my basement?"

I laughed a little--not because the memory was humorous or even pleasant, because it certainly was neither, but because I was surprised that he would remember or even think to bring that up again. "Of course I remember."

"Not much has changed, has it?" said Ryan. He bit his lip and looked at me in a way that reminded me starkly of the expression on Brendon's face earlier tonight: it was the look of loss.

I frowned, confused. "What do you mean?"

He shrugged, taking a small step back so that there was a more comfortable amount of space between us. "I just mean that it's been three years and you're still not talking about me. You're never talking about me."

I blinked at him a few times, sure I must have misheard him. "What...?" I started to ask, trailing off when I realized that I was too confused to even phrase a distinct question. "Ryan, what are you--?"

Ryan threw up his hands in frustration, whirling around and stalking off like I had insulted him somehow. He stopped in the dead center of the living room and turned to face me again. "That's what I'm talking about. That right there is exactly what I'm talking about."

"Ryan..." I murmured, bewildered and a little worried by his erratic behavior. "Please. I don't understand."

He collapsed onto the couch I had been sitting on earlier, leaning forward to cradle his head in his hands. Feeling guilty simply because he was obviously upset with me, I went over and sat down at his side, rubbing his back soothingly. The small bones of his spine jutted out beneath my fingertips.

"Ryan, please tell me what's wrong," I whispered.

Straightening up, he turned to look at me with a martyred expression and I let my hand slide off his back. He stared at me without speaking for a few tense moments. Then, his expression hardening into one of fierce determination, he licked his lips and took a deep breath before saying the words that changed everything between us.

"You...you're a good person, Kelsey. You're smart and pretty and fun and everyone likes you, even if you can't see it. You've been hurt by a lot of people in your life, and it's made it hard for you to trust. I understand that. And I know that you probably still have feelings for Brendon, even if you don't want to be with him in that way anymore. I understand that too. And I know it would be sort of awkward for the rest of the band if...if you and I were to ever..."

He trailed off, disheartened by the lack of comprehension in my face--but I just couldn't wrap my mind around what he was trying to say enough to have any thoughts at all.

"Look, Kelsey." He paused before going on, as if bracing himself. "I just want you to know that I'll always be there for you, and I'll never hurt you like...like other people have before. I'll take care of you. I'll make you happy. And I know sometimes you think of yourself as damaged goods, but...I can fix you. I can make you whole again if you'll let me."

I could only stare back at him, stunned beyond words.

"Kelsey?"

As I finally managed to assign a meaning to all those words, the question in his face was apparent. He was waiting for me to say something, I knew, but I couldn't figure out what I should say.

"What are you asking, Ryan?" I breathed, almost inaudibly.

He reached up to cup the side of my face in his large, calloused hand. His face was earnest and sincere, his tiny smile sweet, as he said, "I'm asking you to give me a chance."

"A chance at what?" I asked blankly.

He laughed once, without humor, at my blatant confusion. "A chance to be with you."

All at once, the impact of what he was trying to say hit me with overwhelming force, and I leaned away from his touch. "Well, what about--what about...the band?" I spluttered, the words barely coherant. "What about--Brendon...?"

The tenderness in his face faded quickly, his delicate features rearranging themselves into a frown. "See what I mean?" he growled. "Brendon, Brendon, Brendon. All we ever talk about is Brendon. Can't we just forget about him?"

I gasped in disbelief, and before I could formulate a tactful response, I blurted out, "No. Of course not. It's impossible. I've been trying to for two whole years."

He scooted closer even as I started to move away, his expression suddenly urgent and full of a raging blend of jealousy, anger, and excitement. He grabbed my face again, roughly this time, and kept moving closer until our legs overlapped. His dark eyes were black as the night outside, infinite in their longing, their continually dissatisfied need--and I wondered briefly if I had ever really escaped Brendon or if I had made whole worlds out of him instead, because looking into Ryan's face just then was more like looking into Brendon's.

"Well," said Ryan in a deep voice that terrified me in a million indescribable ways, "maybe you should try harder."

And then he held my face securely in his hands as he leaned in and kissed me.