Cancer

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Ryan's lips moved, hard and unforgiving, against mine. And as much as it thrilled me to the core with brilliant fear and horror, I pulled myself closer to Ryan's soft, warm face and what it stood for: the world I had built for myself, the cancer I had foolishly allowed to spread. I had brought this torment on myself, and now I reveled in it.

In a sick way, I kind of liked it.

I kind of liked the pressure of his long, thin fingers against the side of my face, the feel of his rough, unfamiliar touch. I kind of liked the way we held ourselves at sharp right angles on the couch; it was so different from how things had been with Brendon, when we used to melt fluidly together. I thought it would hurt, when I finally had someone else again, but, surprisingly, kissing Ryan was pure relief because it wasn't like kissing Brendon--or not like kissing the old Brendon, at least.

Because the new Ryan and the new Brendon were startlingly alike, if in no other way than how they both regarded me lately. Both wanted me, both felt I was a long shot because I couldn't forgive and forget, couldn't move on.

I realized abruptly, as Ryan's hands moved to grip me around the waist and pull me closer into his lap, that Brendon had been right and that Ryan had most likely felt this way for a while now. I had known it all along, too, I just refused to acknowledge it: that was why I had felt so bewildered, so betrayed when I found out he was engaged.

I didn't really want Ryan--not in that way--but I still thought of him as belonging to me. It was exactly how I felt about Brendon now, too.

But kissing Ryan didn't hurt. It didn't feel like anything. It was just touching, just holding something solid, lips moving against a warm mouth and feeling nothing. It was all physical, not emotional. It was only skin deep.

So it didn't really hurt when I finally placed both hands squarely on his chest and pushed him away, either.

Panting, Ryan released me and sat back on his heels, gaping at me with a vaguely awed look on his face. His cheeks were flushed, his eyes bright with want and hurt, and I knew he saw it all in my face--he knew what I was feeling, what I was going to say before I said it.

He waited to hear the words anyway.

"Ryan, I don't..." I choked out, surprised to find that I was as breathless as he was. "I don't think this is a good idea."

He looked away, his expression soured at the blow of rejection. "Of course you don't," he muttered.

I sighed. "Please don't be mad--"

"I am mad!" he yelled, suddenly irate. He leapt to his feet, eyes wild and fierce with jealousy and resentment. "I'm fucking furious!"

"Ryan--"

"It's not fair!" he wailed, and for one terrified moment I was sure he was going to cry. He looked away and rubbed his eyes, and when he looked at me again, the tears were gone. "It's not fair that--that--just because my best friend is a fucking idiot--just because he had you first and screwed it all up... Just because of Brendon, we can't be together?"

"It's not just because of Brendon," I said shakily.

"Then why?" breathed Ryan. "Why can't we at least try? Because I know...I know we could have something good, if you would just..." He sighed and sank back down onto the couch beside me again, running a hand through his mousy brown hair. Taking both of my hands in his, he said evenly, "I know you've been hurt, but I wish you would just give me a chance."

"And do what?" I asked coldly. "Just forget about Brendon?"

He winced at the echo of his harsh words from earlier. He shook his head a little and his expression softened, but I could tell the compassion was forced. "No. You don't have to forget him, just...you know. Move on."

I studied him suspiciously. I chose my words carefully and then reminded him, "A couple of weeks ago, you told me that Brendon left me for my own good and I shouldn't be mad at him. You told me to forgive and forget. You thought I should give him some credit...maybe even take him back. What happened since then?"

Ryan stared down at our hands together in my lap for a long moment, and when he looked up again, his poker face fell away suddenly to reveal a tender look of adoration. "I fell in love with you," he whispered.

For a moment, I just stared blankly at him, caught between the warmth of his gaze and the unsettling clenching of my gut. I looked away. "That doesn't change anything between me and Brendon, Ryan," I mumbled.

He sighed again, reaching up to tip my chin towards him with two long fingers, forcing me to look at him. "I know that. But, look, Kels... He got his chance already. He blew it. Now I'm gonna have to pay the price for his mistake?"

"He didn't make a mistake." Before I realized I was crying, I felt hot, wet tears trail down my cheeks; Ryan reached up to brush them away with his fingertips. "The only mistake he made was loving me..."

"Kelsey," Ryan said exasperatedly. Lost in my memory of the hours spent with Brendon earlier that night, I barely heard him. "You don't really believe that, do you?"

My gaze snapped back to Ryan. "You believed it once. Back when you were still Brendon's friend before you were mine."

His face fell a little with shame. "I know it seems like I'm being a bad friend to him. But...I mean...can you blame me?"

"For what?" I snapped, suddenly angry as I realized that Brendon was right and my only ally may not have been as great a friend as I had thought he was. "For trying harder to get into my pants than to support Brendon?"

"Kels," chuckled Ryan humorlessly, his expression turning slightly panicked. "I haven't been trying to get into your pants--"

"You haven't been helping Brendon, either!" I jerked my hands out of Ryan's grasp, getting to my feet angrily. "He needed a friend as badly as I did, and you turned your back on him!"

"He turned his back on me!" shouted Ryan. He stood up too, pointing a finger at me accusingly, even though he was condemning Brendon. "He turned his back on everyone after you left, Kelsey! You don't get it, okay? You don't know what the past two years have been like because you weren't here. You don't him anymore. No one does."

"Maybe you don't know him," I hissed. "You're the one who doesn't know what it's been like. You don't know what it's like to feel completely abandoned by anyone. And what happened two years ago is between me and Brendon, and you don't know all the circumstances, so don't you dare judge him--"

Ryan glared back at me, crossing his bony arms over his chest huffily. "Kelsey, don't try to justify--"

"You don't understand!" I shrieked at him, cutting him off. "You don't know what it's like when the only person you have left lets you down!"

"Well, if it hurt you so goddamn much, then why the hell are you forgiving him?! Huh?!" Ryan demanded harshly.

"Brendon didn't let me down," I said. "I let him down. And I'm not going to do it again."

Before Ryan could recover from his surprise, I grabbed my purse off the table and stalked out of his apartment for the last time. He didn't come after me.

As I stepped into the elevator and waited for it to take me to the ground floor, the tinkling elevator music seemed devoid of cheer to me because I was alone in Vegas again. It had happened to me time and time again over the past few years, and the empty feeling was familiar by now, but this time was a little different. This time I knew who to blame: myself.

-----

A week passed in the lonely solitude of my hotel room. Mom went out a lot (she had made some friends since her return to Vegas, and she had to keep lunch or dinner plans nearly every day), and when she was gone, I was completely alone. Ryan called often, but I never answered the phone when he did; even if I had wanted to talk to him, I wouldn't have known what to say.

The one person I desperately wanted to talk to kept his promise well. Each time the phone rang, my heartbeat sped up and Brendon's face sprang to mind, but it was never him on the other end of the line.

Of course he never called. Why would he, when I had practically begged him not to?

I had pushed away the only people who really cared about me--and now, even as I wallowed in my own misery, I just kept on pushing. It was like I was absolutely determined to be alone forever.

Wish granted, Kelsey, I thought bitterly to myself. Congratulations. You have everything you ever wanted.

But those words hadn't been true when I had said them to Brendon that day at his parents' house, and they weren't true now, either.

-----

Three days after Panic's disastrous record release party, I got a phone call from someone other than Ryan: it was my real estate agent, letting me know that someone was interested in buying Dad's house and wanted to close on the deal as soon as possible.

The agent assured me that I would get the full asking price, and finding a buyer for such a big house in such a low-key neighborhood was miraculous--basically, we should cater to this rare buyers needs as much as possible. We agreed to sign the papers Friday afternoon at one o'clock, and I would then have ten days to move all Dad's stuff out of the house before the buyer moved in. And then I would be finished with Vegas.

So that meant that I would be leaving town soon...and so would Panic, I realized.

In my head, I watched a whole future play out for all of us: I would leave Vegas and they would slip through my fingers again, becoming nothing more than a glittering half-dream that I could never be sure had existed at all. They would go out on the road and keep playing pretty music for pretty girls, without me; I would go back to New York and keep pushing all my friends (and something-mores) away, without anyone. We would all go on with our lives, and they would forget me. I would try to forget them.

It made me sad to think about it.

I wondered if I would relapse once they were gone, if I would let the sea of loneliness overtake me once more. I never wanted to go back there (it had hurt so much), but maybe it would be easy this time...like drowning, but peaceful, empty...

After all, there was no one left to pull me out of the ocean this time. I had made sure of that.