It wasn't quite raining, but it was close to it. You could almost feel the precipitation in the air, the nauseating humidity of a New Jersey summer. Gray clouds hung low over us all, mirroring the collective mood. It was the worst weather in the world to have a funeral, but here we were.

It was surreal, in a way. I don't think any of us were prepared for this day. I don't think any of us wanted this day to come full stop. I certainly didn't. I'd been willing the days to drag since Brendon had told me about the guy he'd met at the bar. But they'd rolled forward, one...two...three...four...five...six...until now.

Brendon was, for the most part, sober. Hungover, yes. Sober, almost. He'd downed two shots of vodka at eleven a.m for 'Dutch courage', which his mother berated him for, and then had remained silent since. I'd be worried if I hadn't been expecting it.

It was slowly starting to sink in for him, and as I watched him, he began to draw in more and more on himself, until it got to the point where he was forgetting to breathe. He wasn't crying, he was...expressionless, staring into space. I didn't know if he was going to say anything about Ryan; I didn't know if he was capable of saying anything at all.

And then it was my turn to speak. After listening - as best as I could, Brendon being the only thing I could focus on - to everyone else, I stood up and went up to the podium. I had no idea what to say, no idea what sort of approach to take, so I decided to just say the first thing that came to mind. A bit like everything else, really.

I cleared my throat, looking out at the faces turned expectantly up at me. Brendon was still staring forward, his fingers twitching as I took a deep breath. My eyes caught Gerard's, in the eighth row from the front, and he smiled encouragingly at me. Honestly, I hadn't expected him to turn up - we'd been a bit distant from each other the past few days, though I wasn't sure why.

"If you were at the wedding, you'd know how bad I am with speeches of any kind. You'll have to bear with me." I swallowed heavily, rubbing my hands together. "The last time I was here...I was fifteen or something. Back then, I didn't say much, if anything. I felt angry, and hurt, and betrayed. But I don't feel like that now. Okay, I feel angry that something so destructive could take away an innocent life, but...I don't feel hurt or betrayed. I just feel...almost hollow. I don't think I'm ever going to get used to the fact that Ryan's not here anymore...I don't think any of us are.

"Losing your best friend isn't something you want to happen when you're still a teenager. I remember when I first met Ryan Ross - sorry, Ross-Urie. It was...English class, I believe, and I'd just started Belleville High. His first impression of me was pissing off our teacher; my first impression of him was of this quiet kid that wore weird clothes and daydreamed way too much.

"I hadn't known him for long, but I knew him long enough to know this: he wouldn't want you all to cry, with your tissues and hankies and whatever else you can find - sleeves, people use sleeves a lot, I've never known why. He would want you to accept that he's gone. Not forget about him, but not keep him at the forefront of your mind every single day. See some curtains and think, 'I knew someone who once wore shirts like that. Oh yeah, my best friend Ryan', and then smile. Not at the fact that he's gone, but at the fact that he existed in the first place. That includes you, Brendon. He gave something to every single one of us. I'm not the best with people, but I reckon that's what he'd want. Because he may not have survived, but he made sure the rest of us did."

~

Brendon's eyes glazed over as he watched Ryan's coffin being lowered into the ground, and finally, tears spilled over.

The wooden box was black, but Brendon had spent hours upon hours painting intricate red roses on the surface. He'd said he wanted Ryan to sleep somewhere that looked pretty, and was comfortable, which was why he - along with Ryan's parents - had asked for it to be lined with padded red wine-colored silk.

It was a beautiful casket, perfect for someone like Ryan. Along with the roses, Brendon had painted green vines and leaves, covering almost the entire thing. People had been glancing at it all day, remarking how pretty it looked, how much effort had gone into painting it. It was beautiful.

"It seems..." He began, and he paused, taking a deep, shaky breath. "It seems like such waste...making it perfect for him to sleep in...when it's just going to rot in the - in the...when -" He stared, his voice breaking slightly as if he couldn't say the words. "When...he's just going to rot in the ground."

He swallowed heavily, the kind of swallow when there's a lump in your throat, and more tears are coming, whether you like it or not. He and I were are at the forefront of the group gathered around Ryan's grave, people slowly wandering off towards the hotel where the wake would be held. I didn't think Ryan's parents could face having it in the house. And besides, there were a lot of people.

I slipped my hand into Brendon's, just holding it, as he spoke again. "I remember proposing to him. I've been thinking about it all day. It wasn't because he was dying, it wasn't because I could lose him at any point...it was because I love him, because I thought that then was a good a time as any. It wasn't even romantic. I just said...I just - just - said -"

He cut himself off, staring at the coffin. He let out a sob and I squeezed his hand, tears dripping from his chin onto the grass. It began to rain, tiny, gradual drops hitting the tops of our heads and our shoulders and the backs of our suit jackets. I could hear the soft plip, plip, plip, among the wind that grew, and then there was more rain, more wind, more cold.

He took a deep breath. "I just said 'will you marry me?', one day, out of the blue, and he just...looked at me, shocked, as if he couldn't quite believe what I'd said." It got freezing very quickly, and his teeth began to chatter. "And I repeated the question, and he...he grinned, as if I'd given him the thing he most wanted in the world. He was so happy. It was if he'd been waiting his entire life for me to ask him that one question, and..." He trailed off, screwing his eyes shut. "I miss him so much."

I manoeuvred our hands so my fingers were linked with his, and I squeezed his hand once more as he sniffled, not even bothering to wipe his tears away. He was shaking, though whether it was from the cold or his tears, I didn't know.

He reached into the inside of his jacket and pulled out a familiar envelope, albeit slightly crumpled. "He - he left this for m-me. I haven't - haven't had the guts to r-read it yet...will you read it for - for me?"

I let go of his hand to open the envelope, noticing that we were the only ones left, and I pulled out the letter, seeing Ryan's familiar flamboyant yet totally legible scrawl. The umbrella that had been handed to us by the last person to leave thankfully shielded the paper from most of the rain, so I licked my lips and began to read.

"'My dearest Brendon;

When you read this, I will sadly be dead. I know that the end is coming for me, whether either of us like it or not. And as I write this, you're fast asleep in a hotel bed and I'm sat in the chair across the room, watching your beautiful form beneath the sheets. Just seeing you breathing and alive and healthy is enough to counteract the intense pain I currently feel in my entire body.

I'll keep it short, but there are things you need to know. This isnt like the trashy novels that romanticise this illness. It brings them closer together, it makes them realise what love they had, all that shit. But it feels like it's driving us apart...don't you feel it too?

I stopped chemo a long while ago. It just wasnt working, it...it wasn't working. There was no point in continuing if it wasn't doing anything, and I was just getting worse, and it wasn't a decision I took lightly; I was thinking about it for weeks - months, even - ever since I got the fucking illness. I kept coming back to you, and leaving you, and I'm sorry Bren, but I just couldn't do it.

I'm so sorry for not telling you, but as time went on I found it harder and harder to confront you about it. I didn't want to upset you. I just wanted to forget about it and keep you happy. Your happiness was all I could think about.

I know I'm going to die Brendon. Its not a nice thought, but it's going to happen sometime soon. It keeps me up at night and I hate it. Find someone nice, live after I'm gone. I promise you that even without me here, you can do this. Don't let us go to waste.

And I swear if I wake up in heaven and see you beside me I'm going to kick your ass, because you're not supposed to be there. You're supposed to be my Bren, my strong, caring, loving Brendon whom I would be nothing without.

But without me, you can still be something. Please baby, make the most of life like I couldn't. Do the things that you love to babble along about, find a new man. The possibilities are endless. I love you.

This is my note. This is my explanation. This is my goodbye.

Forever yours,

Ryan xoxo'"

~

Brendon and I eventually turned up at the wake, almost an hour later than everyone else. After I'd finished reading the letter, it had taken a good fifteen minutes to calm him down, because he'd just completely broken down. There was nothing I could do or say; I just had to let him let it out.

He almost immediately got snatched up by Patrick and Pete, the latter pulling him into a tight hug. The two of them gave me wan smiles as Brendon took several deep breaths, his face buried in Pete's shoulder. I joined them, wanting to be with my friends - I could see Ray and Mikey, plus a couple of others from school, at their table.

"Have you seen Gerard?" Mikey asked me, as I approached the table.

"No, I haven't; why?" I frowned, glancing around.

"I just thought you would've...he disappeared almost as soon as he set foot in here."

My eyebrows drew together, and I licked my lips as Brendon sat down, flanked by Pete and Patrick. It was so strange being at some kind of event with my friends and not having Ryan there; I kept expecting him to turn up at any moment, grinning and apologetic. I kept expecting him to sit beside Brendon and press a kiss to his flushed cheek, babbling about something that had happen or why he was late. I kept expecting him to be there, and happy.

Pushing the thought from my mind, I scanned the crowd for my boyfriend, cursing internally as I remembered that his hair was no longer shocking red. Maybe the asshole didn't want to be noticed in a crowd. Maybe he was hiding. Maybe he was purposely being a pain in the ass.

Then I remembered the bar, and if he'd been doing what I thought he'd been doing, he would probably be found there. I told my friends that I'd he right back, just going to look for Gerard, and I pushed past a few people, a low buzz of general conversation in the air. I still kept expecting to see Ryan somewhere, and it hurt.

My eyes fell on a man sat at the bar, a glass of beer in his right hand. Untidy black hair, pristine suit, hazel eyes, silver ring on the left hand -

Oh, fuck.

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Good afternoon! I don't normally update during the day but due to lack of Internet it's my only choice:')

I'm sure you're all aware of my situation, and if not, check out my message board (though I have the new profile *throws up*)

Uhhhh and should I enter TMIABM into the wattys? It's something that crossed my mind but idk *shrugs* we'll see.

Thanks Pete,

-xøcharr <3