Cancer

Banner by ThunderLoser. <3

"Kelsey, baby, it's time to get up."

Brendon voice was soft and lovely, and that was the only thing that kept me from squeezing my eyes shut tighter and hiding under the covers, which was what I really wanted to do. It was way too early for this--actually, I was still too sleepy to figure out what exactly "this" was, but it was just way too early, period.

But I felt his warm hand cup the side of my face gently, the overpowering scent of Listerine washing over my face as he whispered to me, "C'mon, Kels, wake up. I have to go soon."

Groaning and stretching a little, I opened my eyes and raised up enough to look at him. Brendon was lying on his side on the bed, fully dressed with wet hair clinging about his face. The only source of light was what streamed in through the half-closed bathroom door; it was still completely dark outside. Why was he up and dressed already?

"Urgghhh," I grumbled, rubbing my eyes sleepily--at this hour, even the dim light from the bathroom was too much. I closed my eyes and collapsed face-down onto the bed again, wriggling under my pillow, where it was cool and dark.

He just laughed at me as he tugged at my arm. "C'mon, Kelsey. It's five o'clock. I have to go soon."

That was all it took to trigger my memory, and all at once, I knew exactly what was going on: Brendon was leaving town today, flying out to New York to do some kind of promotional crap for Panic. He wouldn't be back for a whole week. Damn.

"Ohhhhh no..." I sat up in bed, suddenly wide awake and fighting back tears.

Brendon misinterpreted my sorrowful cry. "I'm sorry," he apologized, scooting closer to me and pulled me halfway into his lap--out of habit, I threw my arms around his neck and completed the embrace. "I know it's early, but it was the only--"

"It's not that," I mumbled into his shoulder. "It's just that...I'll miss you."

"...Oh." He rubbed my back soothingly and kissed the top of my head, pulling me closer still. "Well, I'll miss you too. But you know I'll be home soon."

"Yeah," I sighed as he tipped my head back to kiss the tip of my nose. "I know."

-----

After throwing on a pair of sweatpants and a loose T-shirt, brushing my teeth, and pulling my hair back into a lopsided ponytail, I sat on the edge of the bed and watched Brendon finish packing, occasionally reminding him of things he'd forgotten or critiquing the clothes he'd picked out (once I had to step in and physically stop him from packing a pair of knee-high baby blue Uggs--I don't even want to think about where he got those in the first place.) We had been back together for almost a whole year now, but I was still fascinated by every little thing he did. Just watching him flit around the room with a smile on his face, putting his shoes on and running a comb through his hair, was enough to hold my attention indefinitely.

Once everything was packed, Brendon zipped up his Dior case and tossed it toward the small pile of luggage near the doorway with an air of finality. Dusting off his hands, he then turned and walked into the bathroom to check himself in the mirror.

I followed him in and stood behind him, slipping my arms around his waist and resting my chin on his shoulder. He gathered my hands in his as we both stared back at the reflection of the two of us standing there together.

It was times like this when I got scared. But the fear was nothing like it used to be; it was only a shallow reminder of the darkness I had once been submerged in--the darkness I had escaped. The fear was nothing like it used to be because I knew how to fight it off now. I had learned the secret.

I was afraid of the way I felt about Brendon because it was beyond my control now. If I allowed it, I was afraid of him because I knew he had the power to break me. But I had learned something else over the past year, too: trust.

I knew he could destroy me, and that was scary. But I also knew that he wouldn't destroy me--would never think of it--and that made all the difference in the world.

Brendon cleared his throat. "How do I look?" he asked, half-jokingly.

I turned my head to kiss his neck swiftly. "Perfect."

"Well, then..." He sighed, releasing my hands and turning around so he could kiss me properly, on the lips. "Lets go."

-----

He drove to the airport while I slept in the car. He insisted that he could always just sleep on the plane, or have a Red Bull or seven; I insisted that I wouldn't sleep, anyway--no, I'd stay up and keep him company while he drove. I put up a good fight, but neither of us had done much sleeping the night before (farewell boyfriend-and-girlfriend activities, you know), so I was conked out in the passenger's seat by the second half of the trip. Oh well. At 5:45 AM, Brendon the caffeine addict was already on his second Red Bull, so he didn't need me to help keep him awake anyway.

He woke me up when we finally arrived at the airport, and I helped him carry his bags (well, I carried his guitar--he wouldn't let me take anything else) into the lobby, where Spencer and his girlfriend were the only ones waiting for us.

Brendon deposited his bags in a pile next to Spencer's luggage and put on his oversized, girlish sunglasses, though it was only 6:30 in the morning and still dark as night outside. "Where's everyone else?" he asked Spencer, glancing around the deserted airport as if expecting Ryan or Jon to pop out from behind a sofa or a decorative plant.

"Ryan just called me right before you guys came in and said he's running late," said Spencer.

Brendon frowned. "What about Jon?"

"Um, Jon lives in Chicago, Brendon," Spencer reminded him sarcastically. "As fond as he is of you, I don't think he'd want to fly all the way out to Vegas and then fly right back to New York just to see you a few hours earlier."

"Awww, man," whined Brendon, forcing his huge lips into an exaggerated pout. "But I actually like that one."

Spencer just laughed nervously; his girlfriend, Hailey, and I opted to simply ignore the comment rather than pick sides.

When Brendon and I first got back together, he and Ryan had had more than their fair share of arguments--some of them involving hair straighteners and other large, blunt objects flying at each other's heads--which had inevitably led to a lot of tension within the band. The fact that they went out on tour and were forced to spend long periods of time together in small spaces almost immediately after the main conflict took place didn't exactly help matters either. But almost a year had passed, and they got along almost as well as they used to now.

Almost. Their relationship was still a bit strained, especially whenever I was factored into the equation. And where they were equals before, the playing field wasn't quite as even anymore: Ryan was more congenial and polite to Brendon than ever before, whereas Brendon now liked to make snide remarks about Ryan when he wasn't around. It made me kind of sad, but I figured he had a right to be annoyed after everything he'd been through because of me (and maybe Ryan, too), so I never called him out on it.

As if on cue, the automatic doors behind us opened and Ryan walked in with a suitcase in each hand and, hilariously enough, a pair of oversized sunglasses almost identical to Brendon's perched on the bridge of his nose. Pam was close on his heels, looking as tall and sinewy and lovely as ever, even as she lugged around half of Ryan's bags for him.

"Hey, Ryan," said Spencer. His tone was just a little too cheerful to be completely natural--he was probably feeling guilty for laughing at Brendon's joke earlier.

"Hey, Spence," said Ryan, placing his two bags on the ground in front of him. "Hailey... Brendon. Kelsey." His smile turned strained as he addressed me and Brendon.

"Hi," said Hailey and I simultaneously.

Brendon said nothing, but took off his sunglasses as soon as Ryan looked the other way. "It's not that bright in here, anyway," he grumbled under his breath.

I laughed at him and ruffled his hair as our little posse started walking towards baggage check, with Ryan and Pam at the front and me and Brendon bringing up the rear. "You know," I said, shifting the only bag he let me carry to the other arm so I could hold his hand, "you're pretty funny when you're jealous."

"I'm not jealous," said Brendon. "Why would I be jealous? I got you."

"That's a good point," I admitted.

I stopped to kiss him on the lips, but then I remembered that he was going to be gone for days and days, and so the kiss wasn't quite as brief as I had intended. We got separated from the rest of the group and Ryan didn't wait up for us, but that was fine with me, and more than fine with Brendon, I was sure. It was perfect.

-----

Pam and Ryan had gotten back together shortly after I had rejected him. He told her he just got cold feet, and she welcomed him back with open arms. They were living together now, and still owned Krista the Mongoose-Not-Ferret, as far as I knew.

They were still just engaged, though; each time the wedding date approached, one of them inevitably pushed it back another three months for one reason or another. They were currently set to wed May 15th, but Ryan would probably postpone it again because there was going to be a great sale on vintage scarves that night, or something.

But, for all their ups and downs, the two of them looked pretty crazy about each other that morning: she had him in a vice-grip, and he was patting her back comfortingly, murmuring into her ear. Hailey was crying and Spencer was doing a terrible job of comforting her. Same as always.

At my side, Brendon took my hands in his, and I looked up at him. He looked a little sad to be leaving--but still happy. Still upbeat, like always. That was what I loved the most about him.

He looked down at our hands together, his dark eyes landing on the sparkling sapphire-and-diamond ring on the third finger of my left hand. It was the same one I had found in his hand that night when I saved him from the balcony, the same one he had mailed me along with the Johnny Cash CD. After we first got back together, almost a year ago, he told me he had bought it for me just before we broke up. He said he had to keep it, couldn't bear to let it go.

It was mine now, as it should have been all along.

He ran his thumb over the smooth gemstones. "You shouldn't wear this on your ring finger," he murmured.

Surprised and a little hurt, I pulled my hands away. He looked up at me then and I studied his face, trying to understand what he meant by that--hoping I had misheard him somehow. "What do you mean?" I whispered. I almost didn't want to hear the answer.

And then he smiled.

"I just mean that...people might think it's your engagement ring," said Brendon. "And it's not."

I felt paralyzed, rooted to the spot with horror as I translated that in my head: so he didn't want people to think we we engaged? Was he ashamed of me? And still, he just kept smiling that damn happy smile--

"Your engagement ring will be much nicer."

The shocked pain disappeared as instantly as a much more pleasant, relieved feeling--a feeling like flying--took its place. "What?" I breathed, afraid to hope...

"I said, 'Your engagement ring will be much nicer,'" he repeated cheekily.

"My engagement ring?" I was gaping at him now. In the back of my mind, it occurred to me that he had been tricking me earlier, just for his own amusement, but I was too distracted to be angry with him. "What engagement ring?"

He couldn't keep the joke going any longer; the pure joy and adoration broke through the humor in his eyes, and he beamed at me. "The one I'm going to get you in New York."

For a moment, I was torn between several different emotions--predominately surprise, irritation, and acute happiness. But happiness was winning.

"Brendon!" I shrieked, smacking him in the arm; he clearly hadn't been expecting that reaction, because he flinched. "You're not supposed to tell me you're going to propose! It's supposed to be a surprise!"

"I know, I know." The words sounded like pleading as he raised his arms to shield himself from a few more harmless blows. "I'm sorry! I just couldn't stand it anymore. You know I can't keep a secret--especially not from you." He smiled softly and reached up to touch my face. "I tell you everything..."

"I know," I sighed. I was already melting, giving in to the tenderness in his eyes. "I guess it's okay..."

"It is," said Brendon reassuringly. "Everything will be okay. No--it'll be better than okay. It'll be perfect."

I couldn't help but smile back as he pulled me into his chest and kissed my forehead. "I know."

"And I'll still find a way to surprise you," he went on. "Right when you least expect it, I'll pop out of nowhere with a ring in my hand. Maybe I'll wait until you're bringing in groceries...or watering plants...or showering..."

"I like the last one."

"Me too. That could be fun. Maybe I'll do that."

I giggled once, my laughter muffled against his shoulder, and then pulled away enough to see his face. He looked happier than I'd ever seen him before, though he was only grinning lopsidedly--the best description I can come up with is that he just looked like he was radiating joy.

I probably looked the same way. Or at least, I hoped I did. He looked beautiful that way--even more beautiful than usual.

And I certainly felt radiant.

"I love you," I told him.

He smiled wider and leaned down to kiss me. "I love you too," he murmured against my lips. He grinned with satisfaction as he pulled away. "I can't wait to get home and give you that ring."

"Nothing too expensive," I said.

"Oh, no, don't start with that. You're getting the fucking Heart of the Ocean on a platinum band."

I rolled my eyes, but otherwise ignored his gleeful sarcasm. "And it better be nicer than Pam's," I added.

Brendon laughed. "Okay. That shouldn't be too hard to pull off."

"Brendon." I gave him a pointed look.

"Okay, I'm sorry. I won't make fun of Ryan anymore," he groaned. He glanced at Ryan over his shoulder, his expression darkening as his eyes bore into mine. "Just tell me you like me better."

"What happened to 'I'm not jealous'?"

He shrugged. "I guess I am a little."

I shook my head at him in wonder, amazed by how he could still feel insecure after all the times I'd told him I loved him over the past year--and before then, even. I put my hands on either side of his face and leaned forward so that our foreheads touched. "I love you more than I have ever loved, or will ever love, anyone else in the whole wide world. And I'm not just saying that because it's what you want to hear."

"I love you even more than that," said Brendon, a mischievous glint in his eyes.

"No, you don't."

"Well, I'm not going to argue with you today, so we'll call it a draw."

"Okay." I stood on my tiptoes to kiss him again. "I'm going to miss you so much..." I whimpered.

"It's only a week," he reminded me. That was a good point--we had been apart for much longer periods of time than one week, sheesh. I was getting spoiled. "I'll be back home soon."

"I'll be waiting."

Brendon kissed me. "I love you."

"Love you, too."

He kissed me once more and then turned to collect his bags as they called his flight. He followed Ryan and Spencer through the airport terminal, glancing over his shoulder to smile and wave and blow kisses at me every now and then. I knew he was just trying to reassure me, but he didn't need to, because I knew he was coming home. He would always come home. And I would always be right here waiting for him.