"Huh... what..." Brendon's almost incoherent whispers sprung from fear as he opened his eyes and didn't see Ryan next to him. He couldn't feel Ryan against him, either, and he rolled over to face the rest of the room.

"Shhh... I'm almost done." Ryan sat on the floor, parallel to the bed, leaning against his nightstand. His voice was shaky and quiet and his face was illuminated by the computer screen, which he quickly turned away from Brendon's line of vision. The LCD screen didn't have the best viewing angle, but Ryan didn't want to take any chances.

"What are you doing? It's so late... early, it's only five... forty..."

"Couldn't sleep."

"You could have woke me up to talk."

"Didn't want to wake you. I'm almost done."

"What are you doing?"

"Typing some things."

"What things?"

"Stuff I wrote to say but I can't say it so I'm putting it on here."

"Can I see?"

"Eventually."

"You're crying."

"I'm aware."

"What can I do for you?"

"Just wait. I'm almost done."

"I need to help." Brendon brought his hand out from under the blanket and he reached for Ryan's cheek. His fingers grazed the skin but only smeared some of the wetness before he let his hand settle on Ryan's shoulder.

"You are, don't worry."

"What are you writing?"

Ryan shook his head as he inhaled through his stuffy nose. "I'll leave it up here but I don't want you to look until later. Just not now... please."

"I'm too tired to give it the attention it deserves right now."

"Well, good." Ryan looked back down to the notebook that was on the floor beside him and he used his pen to cross off a few lines, circle some others, and do other things that Brendon couldn't make sense of. "I don't quite like myself sometimes."

"Why? I like you... I don't think you should feel like that about yourself."

"I just think about things so much that I completely change my mind about everything..." Ryan was starting to get louder and he knew he had to stop talking. He closed the notebook, followed by his computer, and he lifted himself to his feet. "Mind if I rejoin you?" He tried to sound upbeat, but his efforts failed through his quiet tears.

"I want you here." Brendon quickly peeled back the blanket.

"I, uh... actually, you wanna go... eat something, or..." Ryan grinned a little bit as he spoke and pointed his thumb toward the bedroom door, and henceforth, the kitchen.

"Oh, I... guess... I had so much for dinner, but I guess I'm hungry for some reason."

"We'll come back to bed, don't worry."

"Whatever you want. Let those two sleep?" Ryan nodded toward Spencer and Ellen as he stood up and adjusted his pajamas.

"Yeah, it's just us right now."

Ryan pulled his bedroom door shut as they walked away. His long, silky pants were a dark shiny red and his hands quickly went to hide inside the pockets for the short trip to the kitchen. Brendon watched him cautiously and he sat down, just as directed by Ryan, with his back against the refrigerator. Ryan soon followed, sinking to the floor with a full package of Oreo cookies held against his chest. He must have figured he was too far away from his friend and he slid to the right and pressed his arm, along with the entire right side of his body, against Brendon. As usual, nobody pointed it out. It was just accepted.

Ryan's face was still graced with a small grin while he put an entire cookie into his mouth and offered the package to Brendon so they could begin passing it back and forth. "God, I needed this."

"Yeah, they're good."

"They fucking feel good. Sure, terrible for me, but I don't care."

"It's okay sometimes."

"Yeah, I guess."

"Why couldn't you sleep?"

"I just woke up and couldn't stop thinking."

"I'm sorry."

"Oh, no, you didn't do anything wrong. I just can't fucking stop, you know?" Ryan chuckled quietly, as if he was making fun of himself.

Brendon shrugged and helped himself to another cookie. He looked at Ryan, obviously having no words to say, but his eyes begged Ryan to keep going.

Ryan glanced up at the clock on the stove. "Twelve hours, fuck." It seemed odd to Brendon that Ryan was grinning so much.

"Yeah, it's... yeah."

"God, you seriously can't tell anyone how much I don't want to do this."

"I won't."

"I can't show anything there. I mean, fuck, I'm gonna be expected to grow some balls, take care of my mom, and suck it the fuck up, you know?"

"I don't think you... need to, really..."

"Yeah, but that's because you know me. I have to shake hands and smile and be the host of the goddamn party." Ryan was almost hard to understand with cookies in his mouth, but Brendon could still tell what was being said. "I just don't even want to go."

"I'm gonna stay with you wherever you end up tonight, don't worry."

"No, Bren, this is where you need to help me with this."

"Huh?"

"You need to tell me to just grow up and do what I'm supposed to do. I need to hear it from you."

"I'm sorry... if you want me to tell you what I think, I will, but I doubt it's what you think you need to hear from me."

"I don't care. Go for it."

"Well, if you want to go, it's fine. If not, that's fine too. Ryan, I think you should do whatever you can and want to do. Whatever it is, just remember that I'm going to be with you."

"That's the thing, though. If I go, I can't stay with you all night. I have to stand up there and pretend to know what's going on and pretend to have some sort of grasp on everything."

"I won't be far from you, ever... assuming I'm not at the hospital having cookies pumped from my stomach, I'm gonna be there, Ry."

Brendon's joke was enough to turn Ryan's grin into an honest smile for a second. "The whole thing's just fucking scary, you know?"

"Yeah."

"Have you even been to a funeral before?"

"None that I was old enough to really remember, I'm sorry... have you?"

"Too fucking many for one lifetime. And you want to know something about them?"

Brendon crossed his right arm in front of his body to pull some hair out of Ryan's face, laying it behind his ear. "Yeah."

"They're all so fucking fake. Everyone's acting, and I swear to God, it's sickening. I hate thinking about how it's gonna be tonight. I don't need these people telling me how sorry they are."

Brendon was hesitant to speak, so he grabbed another cookie. "Yeah."

"I mean, fuck, sorry for what? That they never talked to me before this? That they'll never talk to me or think of me again after they go home tonight? They don't have a goddamn thing to regret!" Brendon was honestly scared by Ryan's laughter as he watched his friend throw his head back, straight into the cupboard door, and laugh with quiet intensity. "If anyone should regret anything, it's me. I should be the one telling them I'm sorry. But that's not what will happen. I have to pretend to be 'just a little sad' while pretending to want hugs from all these people who I care about just as much as they care about me: not at all." Ryan bit a cookie in half and he handed the uneaten half to Brendon. "To tell ya the truth, there are about three people that I want to even consider letting touch me tonight, one in particular. Other than that, fuck it. If I can just have these people while staying at home, why can't I just do that?"

"It's up to you, Hun. Like I said, I'm with you regardless."

"I know." Ryan quieted down and handed Brendon another half of a cookie, and Brendon caught on to the fact that he was just supposed to eat what Ryan gave him. "I guess I wanted to come out here with you so I could get all this stuff out while I still had time."

"Why's that?"

"Once I wake up, I'm gonna... probably not be here, really. I don't want to scare you or anything."

"You won't." Brendon didn't like to lie, but he was saying what he thought Ryan needed to hear.

"I just need to... I need to stop feeling for a while, just enough so I can get through this tonight. Make sense?"

"I think so."

"I'm not gonna say much after I wake up. I need to save myself. Just... don't take it as me being mad at you or anything... and don't take it as me not wanting you..."

"Never."

"Because I need you more than anything. I just don't know if it'll seem like it; not with how I'll need to act... I just don't want my distance to make you think I don't want you."

"It won't. I understand. I'm not saying I'm not gonna be worried, but I know what you mean." Brendon ate half of a cookie and cautiously handed the other half to Ryan, and he was relieved when Ryan casually ate it.

"This is just... fuck. I don't like knowing that I need to make myself numb again. I thought I was past that, you know?"

Brendon nodded.

"Listen, you wanna leave early with me tonight?"

"I... guess? You don't want to stay?"

"I'm not going to be able to keep it up for three hours."

"Well, when is... when's the..."

"Just say it."

"...cemetery, and..."

"Never."

"Huh?"

Ryan shrugged. "It's what everyone in his family does, I don't know. We have my grandparents' ashes here somewhere."

"Oh... I'm... sorry..."

"Why?"

Brendon shrugged.

"It's not that bad."

Brendon didn't want to ask anymore questions regarding the subject, especially if it was a practice that Ryan was accustomed to. "We can leave early if you want."

"Spencer will bring us back."

"You want them to come back, too?"

"I want it to just be us again, so... if I tell him to just go back, he will."

"Oh."

"I feel sick."

"Why?"

"Cookies."

"They're good, though."

"Yeah."

"I never get this shit at home."

"Well, seems like there's a lot of shit you don't get at home, so I try to give it to you here."

Brendon smiled and looked away. "Yeah."

"We should do this more."

"Sit on the kitchen floor and eat cookies until the sun comes up?"

"Yeah."

"I'm up for that."

"You know, I... I like having you with me, even when you're asleep."

Brendon smiled and watched Ryan's face. "I'm glad."

Ryan didn't speak again until he had pushed himself to his feet and pulled Brendon up to walk beside him with their hands clenched tightly. "But I think you already know what it's like to just have someone with you... when you need it, you know?"

"Yeah, I do."

"I think that's why you're so good at this. You know what it's like."

Brendon felt warm as he heard familiar words. He could never forget the first time he realized why Ryan felt so good to him. "I guess."

Spencer and Ellen were still asleep on the floor when Ryan and Brendon came back into the bedroom. Ryan laid on his stomach and kept his face hidden in the pillow with his arms up by his head. His elbow stuck out, off to the side, while his forehead rested on his forearms. Brendon knew that any words he could say would never fix anything, so he did all he could. He gently laid down on his side and covered both of their bodies with the blanket. At first, Brendon propped himself up with his arm while his other hand started to trace circles on Ryan's back, but Ryan soon pushed his upper body up a few inches off the bed and supported himself with his elbows and forearms. He kept his face down, though, and didn't look up after lifting his chest away from the bed.

"Ry... You okay?"

"...Want you to hold me." Ryan's voice was small and he never looked up. He didn't like asking for things.

"I'm here." Brendon whispered against Ryan's ear while he slid his arm underneath Ryan's body, almost directly under his collarbone. Ryan laid down on top of Brendon's arm and he tilted his face down to lay against it. Ryan's arms and hands were above his head and Brendon could see the boy's fingers start to go to war with each other. Without thinking, Brendon put his arm around Ryan's back, pulling Ryan against him gently while he put his hand next to Ryan's. He slipped the tips of his fingers into the mess that Ryan was creating and Ryan instantly stopped. He decided would rather squeeze Brendon's hand than destroy his own.

Ryan's voice was almost too shaky for Brendon to understand. "Need you, Kid."

"You have me." Brendon nuzzled his face against Ryan's head and he whispered the last words his friend would hear before falling asleep in his arms. "You can do this."

~~~~~~~~~~

"You were right this morning."

"About what?"

"Scares me how you've been so quiet all day."

"Needs to be done."

"I know." Brendon backed away from his friend, still holding on to his hand. "Just breaks my heart to see no emotion on your face."

Ryan shook his head and let his fingers slide through his damp hair. "We need to get going. Hold on to your phone and wait for messages. Everyone around me will think I'm talking to a friend who couldn't make it tonight."

Brendon held on to the words Ryan had spoken to him earlier in the afternoon. He made sure that wherever he was sitting, he was able to see Ryan. Most of the time, Ryan stood near his mother, and more often than not, she was clinging to her son's arm. Brendon saw some sort of irony in this after he had seen Ryan so vulnerable so many times, and he wanted to reach out and smack her and tell her that Ryan didn't deserve to be made to look like the strong one at a time where he felt like the exact opposite. Brendon had his own reasons as to why Ryan was the strongest person he had ever met, but this was supposed to be Ryan's time to let himself collapse. Brendon was made nervous by the constant smile and frequent laugh that seemed to be attached to Ryan and it tore him apart to know how hard this act really was.

"Come with." Brendon looked up from his spot on the couch to see Ellen extending her hand to him."

"I need to stay and watch..."

"Just step outside with me, just for a minute. Please?"

"I don't know, El..."

"Hun, Ryan's mom is with him, Spencer's inside somewhere, and you've been sitting here staring. I just want to get some fresh air with you for a bit."

"You sure he'll be alright?"

Ellen looked over at Ryan who was in the process of hugging a small woman and pointing her toward a guestbook. "He's surrounded, he's doing just fine."

"That's what I'm afraid of." Brendon reluctantly stood up and locked his arm around Ellen's.

"What do you mean?"

"He's surrounded by people he doesn't trust." Brendon mumbled while he opened the door to a small, fenced in yard behind the funeral home. There were a few others standing outside, but not nearly enough to warrant any extra attention from Brendon.

"You know, you take such good care of this kid."

"I want to."

"You do, and I'm glad you do. "

"Hey, do you know if... does Spencer have anything... against me, at all?"

"No, I don't think... why do you ask?"

Brendon shrugged. "I don't know. I've just been feeling like something's not right, like he wants me to stay away from Ry or something..."

"Bren, Ryan really cares about you, and Spence and I both know you feel the same way. You're good to him, and I know our Ryan... he's good to you, too."

"Yeah. but Spencer just seems to just... not like me... you like me, don't you?"

"Brendon," Ellen lifted her arms and wrapped them around Brendon's neck. "I adore you, Kid. I trusted you with a lot of stuff over the past couple years when things got bad, and if I didn't like you, I wouldn't trust you with Ryan right now."

"I just want Spencer to be okay with me, too..."

"Something you need to know about Spencer is that his friends are his life, and Ryan is a little more than that. Don't get me wrong, it's a lot different than you and Ry, but Spencer is just really close to him. I mean, I don't want to start repeating things you already know or anything, but the three of us have gone through a lot... Spence has always been the one person Ry could count on."

"I'm glad he had you guys."

"I am too. He's an amazing person."

"He's told me so much about you guys helping him, and I just wish I was that lucky... but then I just think, you know, I don't care if I don't have anyone, because all that matters to me is that Ryan had what he needed, you know?"

"You have us, Kid. I'm gonna talk to Spence, though. He likes you, but he has been thinking about Ryan almost non stop. I think he's just nervous because Ry's talking to someone, and it's not him. But I know you're good for this, okay? Ryan cares about you so much and I know you're what he needs...."

Ellen stopped talking as Brendon quickly threw his hand into the pocket of his pants-the same pants that he wore Saturday, as Ryan had insisted that the two of them wear those same outfits again. Brendon pulled out his phone and read the new message.

From: Ry

Message: whered you go? ifuckingneedyou

"Shit, I knew I needed to stay." Brendon held his phone up so Ellen could see and she cringed, gently pushing Brendon toward the building.

"I'm sorry, we'll go back. I'll talk to Spencer, though, because I know you're good. He does too, he just worries. He's a little protective."

Brendon nodded while putting his phone away. Inside, Ryan had not left his original spot. It was obvious just how much it meant to him to be able to see Brendon sitting across the room, and once he was gone, it was obvious just how much Ryan needed him back.

"Just go be with him." Ellen rubbed Brendon's back while she looked into an adjoining room, filled with chairs in front of Ryan's father, and saw that Spencer solely occupied the first row as the seats began to fill up. "I'm gonna go in here, so we'll be waiting for you guys. Just... you know what to do. You care about him." She smiled and squeezed Brendon's shoulder before walking away, leaving Brendon alone to try to casually stroll up to Ryan and his mother and act in the way he knew Ryan wanted him to.

"Hey you... how's everything going?"

"Pretty good." Ryan leaned forward for a hug, and he knew that Brendon was the only one that knew he was lying.

"That's good. So..." Brendon couldn't say anything without referencing the message, or what had happened to cause the message, but he figured he could do it without raising questions. "Ellen and I went outside to get some fresh air. It's pretty nice out there."

"Oh yeah." Ryan hugged him harder and put his mouth next to Brendon's ear. "Never leave me again."

Brendon pulled away and glanced at Ryan's mom, who was busy with someone, and he whispered quietly. "I didn't leave you, I'm so sorry."

"Felt like it. Please, just... stay here. Right here."

Brendon nodded. He put his hands in his pockets and he was honestly ashamed for doing something that he knew Ryan wouldn't like because he felt like he had let Ryan down. He stood next to his friend and he cringed with every fake smile and meaningless hug that Ryan was forced to give; wanting nothing more than to tear him away from these strangers and hold him in his arms, the place that he knew was the most familiar thing that Ryan had available at that moment. Aside from just then, when Brendon walked up to him after being outside, Ryan had not had a real hug in over two hours.

***

Ryan stared past the rows of people and the wooden chairs and focused on the far wall of the funeral home. Aside from small sobs and quiet expressions, the room was silent; the four walls reflecting no sound as the building waited for Ryan's voice. In his hands, a notebook, filled with words that he had never been able to say. His long fingers clenched it as if it were all he had left, and in Ryan's mind, his words really were the only things he had at that very moment. He felt naked. He had never exposed himself in front of anyone to this extent. His three friends were the only ones to have ever seen so much of him, and they were about to see even more than they could imagine. They sat in the front, directly in front of their friend, so close that he could reach out for a hand to hold if he needed it. To their side, a few of his father's fellow servicemen sat stoic and glassy eyed with the posture of a thousand arrows; a flat stare directed at the thin boy who stood scared and alone near his father's peaceful body. The room waited, and Ryan breathed. His chest inflated with his held breath while he lifted a shaky hand to position a lock of thin, long hair.

His mouth fell open slightly, lips trembling and reflecting bits overhead light. He hoped he was able to make sound when he spoke the words scrawled on the paper.

"I remember last year I went to the grocery store with you because I just wanted some time. It was in the afternoon, and I wanted to enjoy every second of it. We pulled into the parking lot and there was a big tent. You made some comment about a circus of old people and I laughed. I hoped you would tell more jokes, but you didn't. We got closer and we saw that it was some racecar on display. I knew you liked racing. I had no idea whose car it was, nor did I care. I asked you to stand with me for a picture because I knew you would like it. You smiled, Dad, and I hardly ever saw you smile. I am going to keep this picture with me forever."

Ryan looked up from his notebook to see the three most beautiful faces he had ever known. Ellen was stiff, sitting between two boys, holding their hands in her own. Spencer on one side, and a pale Brendon on the other side with his vacant eyes pointed at Ryan's shoes. Six hands clutched together with white knuckles, longing to hold him as he spoke.

"You may not have been perfect, but you did what you had to do. You always took care of Mom and me. You looked after us and did what you could, and I forgive you for what didn't work out. For anything wrong, I forgive you, Dad. A person can only do so much. You fought to stay in one piece, and Dad, it worked for so long. I hope you accept my apology for all the times I have wronged you as well.

I am not going to see this as a lost chance. I am not going to sit back and wish I had said things and dwell over the fact that I never had the chance to do it. A year ago I may have. A year ago, I would not have stood here. I would have not let all these people, family, strangers see how I truly felt... had this happened a year ago, as my good friend Spencer could tell you, I would still be in bed. But nobody can be perfect; not anyone in this room, not myself, and I have admitted this... and while there are only a very few people with me right now that know just how flawed I am and how shattered I have been in the past, everyone here knows I am not perfect."

Ryan looked up to see two empty chairs next to Brendon, who had a steady stream of tears running over his cheekbones as he sat motionless, eyes now meeting Ryan's in an affectionate gaze. Ryan's attention was pulled to the back of the room where he saw Spencer and Ellen against the wall. Spencer was wrapped in Ellen's arms with his hands on the back of his neck so his face would point toward the floor. Ryan had to continue before tending to his friend. Any meaning that any of this held would have vanished if he didn't go on.

"I don't see myself as having missed my chance to say these things to you, Dad. I am standing here now to let everyone know that I see this as my final chance to say them. These are not words that I didn't get the chance to say, but instead they are words that I have one last chance to let you hear. I am not going to let this chance get away."

Ryan noticed the burning in his eyes right before his words on the paper started to cloud over, but he caught himself. He looked down and opened his eyes wide, allowing the air to hit them, and he quickly blinked several times. Close call. His face was red and he mentally scolded himself for feeling so much shame over what was to be expected. Brendon entered his line of vision by leaning forward with his hand extended, almost sliding off of his chair. Their eyes met and he accepted the hand that was in front of him, silently gripping the fingers as the hand he was holding closed in around his own. Brendon's eyes told him to go on, and Ryan listened. Ryan gave Brendon's hand an almost invisible push backwards to let him know it was okay to move away, but even after their hands broke apart, Brendon's eyes still remained locked on Ryan's face.

"As your son, I looked up to you not because it was expected, but because I wanted to. Without your flaws, you were everything I ever wanted to be. If I ever have a son, I want him to think of me in this way, just as I thought of you. There are parts of all of us that we do not want our children to inherit, but it's our job to give them examples of what we want them to be, and you have done just that: I want you to know that your grandchildren will never go without what they need, or even what they want. As it gets harder to find the words for what I want to say-my only regret in this endless stream of thought-I realize I could have summed everything up in less than ten words. Less than ten words that I never once put together to say to you while you were here. Now that I am strong enough and now that I see my final chance, I have to say what I have meant to say for as long as I could speak. You had your problems, Dad, and so did I. But you were a good person."

The room was still filled with as much sound as it was when Ryan began his speech and he swore he could hear Brendon's heartbeat. Of course it was just wishful thinking and memories of times where his ear was pressed against his friend's chest, but as he looked at the boy, he knew Brendon's heart was racing just as fast as his was. He took another breath with a silent prayer for just enough strength to finish what he had started. "I never said this while you were alive, Dad, but now... now that you live on in my heart, you will be infinite, but I need to say it to you now. My dad, my father... I love you. You are my hero."

Ryan stared at the paper for a couple seconds as if he had expected more. He couldn't quite believe that he had done and said everything he did. People started to rise from their seats and place their hands together in a few soft claps, while some of them began to shuffle around in a quiet chorus of respectful whispers while preparing to file by Ryan's dad, all of them looking somberly at Ryan and having no words to give him. Ryan didn't mind. He was not at all bothered by the lack of conversation at this point in the evening. Brendon rose from his seat and he seemed so small to Ryan, walking up to him and silently wrapping his arms around the center of Ryan's body and placing his forehead on Ryan's shoulder. To the side, several war veterans were doused with emotion. Behind the crowd, Ryan's two friends stood in a tight hug that was almost identical to how Ryan and Brendon stood. Ryan could hardly hear the gentile praise from his family. The only thing he heard was Brendon's soft voice pouring out in a whisper from the lips that were against his ear. "Ryan Ross, you are MY hero."

***

As Spencer's car pulled away from the funeral home, Ryan didn't look back. For the first time since meeting Brendon, Ryan kept to himself in the back seat, keeping his arms and legs inside his own little area directly behind Spencer while he looked down and played with his fingers. Ryan didn't know if he should be offended or hurt, or just continue feeling indifferent over the fact that his mother had not seemed concerned when he told her he was leaving before the service started. She hugged him, and Ryan enjoyed it because he loved his mother's hugs, but he was almost scared at the fact that he had almost expected her to not really mind. Ever since she told him that she would only gradually move back in in an effort, as she put it, "to keep from invading his space so quickly," Ryan had felt like his mother had moved out several months earlier and she didn't really plan on coming back.

Nervously, Brendon watched Ryan's fingers tangle with each other. He didn't seem to be doing much damage as he appeared to just be rubbing the torn skin, and even though he wanted to, Brendon kept himself from leaning over and pulling Ryan against him. It was something about Ryan's posture that made Brendon realize why Spencer was so protective. Ryan held himself in a way that suggested that he had given up and because of this, he was vulnerable to everything bad in the world. The entire evening had been spent giving so many fake smiles that Ryan had almost convinced himself that he was happy, but he fell miserably short of being able to believe it for long. Lying to himself made him sick, and Ryan didn't really think he deserved to be in anyone's arms at that moment.

By all outward appearances, Ryan was one of the strongest people in attendance that night. He held his mother up and he shook enough hands to make him find some hand sanitizer in a restroom before he left. However, Ryan knew that there was one person who saw through everything, and it was the one person that he knew wouldn't be angry with him for not being happy as well as still love him although he had to lie. He knew there were two others, but Brendon's opinion mattered more to him at that moment than anything else.

Spencer quickly got out of the car as soon as he put it into park and he spun around to open Ryan's door. "You sure you don't want me to stay?"

"Yeah, we're fine." Ryan stood up and stretched. "Just make sure my mom's okay. Tell her I said goodnight, since I don't think she'll come back here. Whatever."

"Yeah, I... I wish she'd come be with you, though..."

"It's alright."

"I mean, I'm glad she knows we love you and she trusts us to take care of you, but shit... she's..."

"I know, she's my mom and she can't even come stay with me when my dad and her husband is dead because oh no it's my house and she suddenly wants to give me some space. Yeah, I know. Hug her for me, okay?"

Brendon awkwardly walked up beside Ryan, matching Spencer's odd look directed at Ryan's quiet outburst.

"Just... sorry. Me and Bren are just gonna watch television or something, so don't worry about us." Ryan leaned forward to hug Spencer, and upon collision with his body, he was instantly compelled to relax against him like he had done countless times before. Spencer was receptive--quickly so--and Ryan inhaled the sweet smell coming from Spencer's clothes. "Don't pay attention to us if we're busy when you get home. Don't bother with me, just do what you need to do."

"Ryan, you're not..." Spencer sighed. "Okay, just... okay. Listen, I'm taking them to school tomorrow morning, and I'm picking up our homework for the rest of the week, so your mom said she'd come over to be with you while I'm gone."

"Whatever. I'm gonna get inside."

"Ryan, we love you."

"Love you too."

Spencer reluctantly let go of his friend and watched him grab Brendon's hand as they walked toward the house. The way Ryan fell against him felt like Ryan had decided to quit trying, and he just hoped that Brendon would be enough to hold Ryan together. Spencer had no idea of what Brendon could do and had been doing for Ryan.

Ryan needlessly brought Brendon back to his bedroom as he silently shed his jacket and his father's shirt, replacing them with the red shirt Brendon had given him. He didn't speak to Brendon, but Brendon stood firm in the doorway, looking away while Ryan changed into his pajama pants. Ryan's body was dressed head to toe in a fierce red and he picked up his fathers white shirt, tossing it over his shoulder as he started to push past Brendon, but he stopped momentarily. "You... you uh, wanted to see what I was doing this morning."

"Yeah?"

"I was typing when you woke up."

"Oh, yeah... yeah."

Ryan pointed at his computer. "My journal's up on the screen for you. Just read it, and... just know that it's all true."

"Where are you going?"

"To the couch. Just... the couch. Come be with me when you're done?"

"I will, Hun. I..." Brendon reached out and squeezed Ryan's hand quickly before letting go. "I care about you."

Ryan smiled before he walked away with his hand clutching his father's shirt while it was draped over his shoulder. It was a tiny smile, but it was the most real smile his face had seen in a long time. Brendon picked the computer up and he held it with the care of a mother holding an infant. He knew it was Ryan's life that he was holding in his hands, and he felt honored to have its warmth against his legs when he sat down with it.

I am going to do this. I am going to do this. iamgoingtodothis.

Brendon swears that my dad will listen to me if I just talk. And since I have never been listened to more than I have been listened to on here, I figured this was the only way. I'm going to hate doing this, I will just come right out and say it because the pain of letting this all sit in my head is worse than what will happen to me while I write this, if you can believe it. So, sorry guys, I'm going to sound weird for a while.

Dad:

I always put off saying things to you because I guess I always expected another day. Nobody can live if they expect everything to end. As people, we have no choice but to live as if we will be here tomorrow. Without this speck of hope, we have no reason to function. Why eat when we will not need the energy? Work when we will not need the money? Smell flowers and salty ocean air and love the warmth of the sun when we will ultimately need no beauty? What comes of the beauty we get out of life once we are gone? If we expect to stop existing and never see tomorrow, we have no use for these things. If they become nothing the instant we are gone, then we, as people, would have no reason to get out of bed and no reason to even be there in the first place if we expect our departure. Had I expected any of this, Dad, I would have done things differently. But God, Daddy, sometimes I feel like this boy did all he could. These past few years, I lived for the mornings. The highlight of my day always came before the day even started. Standing silently in the kitchen with you, sipping coffee-which you recently came to know was the one thing that kept me going, in more ways than one-we just stood there. Sometimes we talked. We never said much. You mostly stood in silent apologies and I stood in silent pleas, begging for a better life for us both. But we did what we could do, what we needed to do... just both of us.

We are human. We are people and our beauty comes in our ability to admit that our flaws are what make us real. It's how we choose to live our lives with these flaws that determines the success of our lives in the end. Dad, you made some mistakes. I did too. But that coffee every morning with a soft hug always let me know that you admitted your flaws.

Sometimes we cannot find the strength to overcome ourselves, and that can really be what it seems like-a war with our own beings, thought against thought, action against action, we fight. Some of us come out on top, some of us are beaten. I, myself, am tattered. I am broken. I almost didn't make it, but I pulled some punches in the last round and I managed to defeat what was pushing me down. It is still angry, though, at my narrow win, and it follows me every day. Breathing down my neck and scratching at my skin, intimidating me in my dreams--the one place I should be free to escape to. But it still lurks. It wants to take me, it wants to eat me alive like it almost did not even a year ago, but I will not let myself fall victim ever again.

The few people that grew to know me know how close I was to collapsing forever. They were the ones who cared to ask questions, to take care of me when I was unable to take care of myself. I am lucky to have these people, because I know so many others are forced to feel how I felt with nobody beside them. I wanted to be that person for you, Dad. I wanted to stay. I knew that every day we would begin with those mornings that will forever be at the center of my heart. I knew that every day I was with you was another day that I was alive and it was another day closer to everything working out for all of us. I got better, I beat what was starting to take me away, and you saw this. And I could tell that you were close, Dad. I know you were, and I want you to know that, in my mind, my father was everything to me.

For several years now, mornings were all we had. I knew you would leave for work and I would be lucky if I caught you for five minutes when you returned home, but I knew you would leave again soon. Yes, Dad, you stayed in the house, but the man I was living with in the evenings was not my father. He looked like you and wore your clothes, sometimes smelled like you and sometimes I could hear you in his voice, and before too long, he was asleep in your bed. But it was not you. You were there in the mornings. It was someone else there at night, making me hurt and cry out for you. I missed you like I miss you now, Dad, except now, we won't get another morning. But every night, I missed you. I missed you like those times you had to travel for your job, I was little, I didn't understand that you would come home. I thought I lost Daddy every time he walked out the door. As the years went on, when you came home after your trips and days at work, I still missed you. Every night a strange man walked through the door and saw my eyes, and I guess my eyes called out for pain. Perhaps this man just wanted me to feel something, Dad, because perhaps he was unaware of how much I was already feeling. I was feeling myself losing the most important person in my life. I felt that feeling for years, Dad, right up until the moment Mom came home and let me know that my feelings were now facts.

But it's ironic, Dad, your flaws did not take you. I got a chance to beat what tried to take me, but you... you, Dad, you never got the chance. You didn't win, you didn't lose. You never had the chance to go either way. I wanted to stay with you even when I had the chance to leave. Mom offered me a happier place, one where nobody would hurt me, one I wouldn't have to run away from almost every night. But I knew that if I left you, I would be admitting that people could not be fixed. That is something I have never believed and I was not about to change my mind. I knew my options, I knew the risks, and I took my chances because I wanted to take you, my father, my life... I wanted to take you away in the end, into a life where we could live as a normal family and just learn to know happiness. I was on my way there with you, Dad. It was hard, but I knew we would get there eventually. I thought we would. I planned on it. I dropped out of my life to try to make this work. I knew you wanted the best for me, Dad, you gave me coffee in the mornings. You and Mom wanted me to have a future. You wanted us to have money to live. I just wanted to have US. I changed schools, an action that I never regretted, and to this day I wish I had been able to convince you that I really was okay with this. No, Dad, I never did handle change very well. But I always handled it in the end, and that is what happened. I was never angry with you for this, Dad. You did what you could, and I did what I had to do.

The one flaw that I was certain could take you from me ended up being the one flaw in someone else that took you from me instead. I never expected anything like this, Dad. If anything, I expected it to be your fault. You were human, and we make mistakes. I would have forgiven you. I just never expected it to be this way. In the end, Dad, you didn't win, but you never lost. I feel like I am the deciding factor in all this: the title is yours. You helped put me here, and a year ago, I would have hated you for that. But I'm okay now, and the fact that I'm here helps someone else want to be here, and even if I only mean something to one person, it's still one person... one amazing, beautiful, intelligent, loving person who needs me to be here to hold his hand and keep him going. Without you, Dad, I wouldn't be here to do this. Your life had so much purpose.

The other night, last Thursday night, you made me feel like a person again. You put your hand on my back when you knew I needed it and you let me know that I still had a father. I'd give anything to feel like that right now. I've been wearing your shirt to try to feel it as much as I can, but it's not working. Of course, if you can hear what I am saying, you already know this. Just like you already know why I was asking you questions on Friday morning.

I was going to tell you. I was going to tell you who I was taking to the dance. I wanted to tell you because it made me happy and you never saw me happy very often. Even if you can see it now, I still wish I had told you right then and there, because I wanted so badly to tell you what I am so passionate about now.

I feel so alive and every breath I take has more meaning, not only because you're living in me now, but because he is living for me. I'm not just breathing for myself. I'm breathing for the person who makes me feel like I was born for a reason. Nobody has ever made me feel like this, but this is what home is going to feel like from now on. He is everything.

I love you, Dad. I know you love me. And I forgive you. I cannot hold anything against you when I know it wasn't you in the first place.

Your son,

--RR

For everyone else:

I think I'm done for a while. I love you guys, but I don't know... I think I need to spend some time thinking and just letting things go. But I'm keeping this boy with me because he keeps me here. If he held your hand at all the right times, you'd see what I mean. This is real. For the first time in so long, I feel like I have energy. Too bad I can't bring myself to use it right now. But like I said, I just need to hide under the covers for a while and figure things out. I'm at a point where I can quit forever or I can move along and live. I think I know what Brendon would say about this, so I guess I'm in this for the long haul. Something about me just needs to fix itself for a while, I guess. I don't know.

He makes me smile.

stillbroken

--RR

Brendon didn't bother to wipe his eyes. Out on the couch, Ryan sat in the center, his back straight and his eyes staring forward at the television. Brendon sat down next to him, speechless. He knew words would ruin everything. As soon as Brendon sat down, Ryan's hand found its way to the top of his. It remained there, not moving, just applying steady pressure. Neither of them were going anywhere. For the first time ever, Brendon didn't feel the need to wrap his arms around Ryan. Their hands held them together just enough, at just the right time, just how Ryan always liked it. They both knew it would be a long night. While Brendon watched Ryan watching the television, he could feel Ryan still trying to hold himself together. He squeezed Ryan's hand gently and it was just enough to get Ryan's attention, and Ryan turned to look at him. Brendon spoke without thinking.

"I like how home feels."

Ryan smiled and sat still for a moment before moving. He curled his legs up beside him and he pressed his right ear against Brendon's thigh after placing his head safely in Brendon's lap. Ryan wasn't used to feeling this safe outside of Spencer's house, and most definitely not in his own living room. But he had to get used to what home was going to feel like. At that moment, to Ryan, home was both of his hands wrapping around one of Brendon's, while Brendon's other hand ran gently through his hair. Ryan knew it was safe to be happy, but he also knew it was safe to just let himself be broken for a while. He knew Brendon would understand.