I woke up a few hours later, alone, curled up in bed. There were dried tears on my face and eyeliner stains on the sheets, and Gerard was nowhere to be seen.

There were clothes hung over the chair in the corner of the room, with a pair of shoes underneath, but apart from that the room was void of anything indicating that Gerard and I had been there.

Feeling more than a little numb inside, I climbed out of bed and dragged myself towards the shower, wondering where my boyfriend would be. I'd fallen asleep before he'd gotten out of the shower this morning, and there was no sign of him climbing into bed with me afterwards. Maybe he'd already gone down to breakfast. If it was still breakfast time, of course.

I rubbed my arms, waiting for the water to heat up, and when it had, I stepped under the spray. It was pretty much scalding, but I didn't care; I had more important things on my mind.

Ten minutes passed with me just standing there, letting the water run over my body, until I snapped out of it and actually began washing myself. Even then that was done in a sort-of daze, my thoughts running at a hundred miles a minute. I kept thinking about whether Gerard hated me or not.

I went down to the hotel's dining room after my shower, where everyone else seemed to be. Ryan, Brendon, Patrick, Pete, Ray, Mikey and Gerard were around one table, and the only space left was, predictably, between the Way brothers. I slipped into the seat as Gerard took a sip of coffee, not even bothering to glance at me.

"Hey." I said quietly, and he simply nodded in acknowledgement. "Listen," I lowered my voice, leaning towards him. "I'm sorry, I -"

"Don't." He hissed, and I stared at him, stunned.

I'd barely been there five minutes, hadn't said a 'good morning' to anyone, and already I wanted to leave. He was being strangely defensive over something that was purely hypothetical, but it was my fault for mentioning it in the first place...right?

I stood up, and left the room as calmly as I could. I hated being given the cold-shoulder by Gerard. It made me feel horrible. I went into the hotel gardens, finding the nearest bench and sitting on it. Well, it was more like slumping, but whatever. I was just tired.

I heard footsteps after a few minutes and looked up to see Ryan, who glanced around, spotting me and coming to join me. His eyes moved over my face before a sigh fell from his lips, and his eyebrows rose slightly.

"Has something happened between you and Gerard?" He asked, and just as I opened my mouth, he continued. "You don't have to tell me everything, but at least tell me the truth."

I considered lying to him, saying that everything was just fine, but I knew he'd see right through it. He wasn't stupid. "Kinda." I admitted. "We, uh, had an argument and now he won't talk to me."

He nodded slowly, taking my hand and giving it a squeeze. "It'll be okay. You guys will sort yourselves out, trust me."

I scoffed. "I unintentionally accused him of something really personal to him; I don't think he'll be forgiving me in a hurry."

He smiled reassuringly. "I find that hard to believe."

I shrugged, and then took a deep breath. "Can I ask you something really personal and insensitive?"

He tilted his head to the side a little. "Of course."

"It's just..." I hesitated. "How do you feel about the fact that there is a possibility of you dying at any moment?"

He looked at me for a few seconds before turning his gaze towards the grounds, towards the trees and flowers of the gardens. "It's absolutely fucking beautiful here. My parents got married here; I wasn't born when it happened, but I've seen pictures, and it was just as beautiful then as it is now." As he spoke, his hand tightened in mine, and his voice began to shake. "I couldn't think of a better place to get married, seriously. If you and Gerard ever tie the knot, you have to seriously consider here. Even the bedrooms are perfect. I've never slept in a comfier bed in my life."

I knew he wasn't deliberately avoiding the question. I knew he would answer me eventually. He was just taking his time. He wasn't like Pete, who rambled for no apparent reason, or Brendon, who made light of every dark situation (in a good way, of course).

"I'm going to die, Frank." He choked out, finally meeting my eyes with his own watery ones. "And if you want me to be honest, well...I'm terrified. I've been trying to convince Brendon that I'm going to be okay, because he's just as scared as I am, and if both of us lose hope...there's not much point in waiting around for it to happen. But I know it will happen. I know that soon, in a week, in two weeks, in two months, the next ceremony we'll be having is my funeral."

"But Ry -"

He shook his head, closing his eyes, and a tear fell from the left and rolled slowly down his pale skin. Today he was tired, and his skin seemed paper-thin. Yesterday, he'd seemed healthy. Today was a different story.

"Admit it, Frank. I've never had the best of luck. I think that Brendon is just about the best thing to ever happen to me, and every time he looks at me and smiles, like I'm the very reason he breathes, I still can't quite believe he's real." He opened his eyes, and another tear trickled down his face, quickly followed by another two. He wiped them away determinedly with his free hand.

"Ryan, listen to me." I grabbed my best friend's hand, holding it as tightly as he was holding mine. "You are not going to die. You're going to be strong, and you're going to beat this illness, and you're going to survive and make Brendon the happiest man alive."

"He doesn't understand how much pain I'm in. He doesn't understand how shit I feel after chemo. He loves me and he's my favorite person in the world besides my parents, but...they don't understand. Nobody understands." He gave my hand a squeeze before standing. "Sort things out with Gee, yeah? We don't need you two to fall apart too."

With that, he turned and walked inside, leaving me outside and desperate to cry.

~

The ride back to New York was tense. It was achingly tense. Not a word was said after the doors were closed, and neither of us spoke once he pulled up outside his house.

Brendon and Ryan were taking a week-long vacation to a small village just outside of NJ, but I couldn't help but worry about Ryan. After what he'd said, it seemed as though at any moment I would receive a call from a devastated Brendon. I didn't want that at all.

Once we were home, Gerard handed me the front door key and dismissed me with a wave of his hand. I wondered briefly how long this cold shoulder would go on for, because damn it hurt.

I unlocked the door and stepped inside, wrinkling my nose at the smell of beer. Bert was lying on the couch, a bottle in his hand, and I stood in front of him, glaring at him as he looked up at me, grinning drunkenly.

"Ah, Frankie!" He said, and I winced.

"To start with, don't call me that. Secondly, I don't think you should be drinking around Gerard. What if it triggers him to start drinking too?"

He just smirked enigmatically and turned his head as Gerard walked in, carrying our case. It was hard to believe that he'd fallen asleep curled up with me last night.

"Can we talk?" I asked him, and he just gave me an 'are you serious?' look. "Please? You're acting really childish right now and it's not fair."

He snorted. "Should've thought about that before you opened your mouth." Then he sat on the couch beside Bert and lit a cigarette. "What are you watching?" He asked the man beside him.

"Star Wars." He grunted, shooting a smug look at me, and I clenched my jaw before storming upstairs and slamming the bedroom door behind me.

I had a fucking right to be suspicious! I had a fucking right to worry! My relationship was going to shit because of that filthy waste of oxygen downstairs, and I wasn't going to let it happen anymore.

I punched the wall in frustration, before flopping onto the bed and staring up at the ceiling. I was frustrated. No, I was more than frustrated - I was angry. I was angry and frustrated and tired, and I just wanted things to be simple.

Everything was simple before I met Gerard. Difficult to deal with, but simple.

But Gerard was like a tornado; he'd struck my life, scattering everything in his path and making sure to change everything and create a complete clusterfuck in the process. And he himself was an utter clusterfuck of emotions, somehow managing to change from horny to pissed off in a split second. It was hard to keep track of what he was feeling, pretty much impossible to tell how he was feeling, and you had absolutely no hope of getting him to talk to you when you wanted him to.

And sometimes I hated being in love with him.

~

My eyes fluttered open, and I looked down to see an arm thrown around my waist. I followed it with my eyes and saw Gerard, who was fast asleep beside me, on his front.

I sat up, taking his arm off of me and picking up my phone. It was not long after one am, so I'd clearly fallen asleep after a while. Dammit.

There was also a text from Brendon, asking me to go on Skype, so I picked up my laptop and went downstairs, turning one of the lamps on once I was on the couch. I turned my laptop on and tapped my fingers against the side as I waited, texting Brendon to say I was awake if he was.

He didn't reply, but when I logged onto Skype he was there, calling me within thirty seconds of me being online. I accepted the call and saw him sat on a bed, Ryan beside him with his head on his shoulder. Ryan seemed pretty out of it, asleep even, and Brendon had one arm around his husband's shoulder.

"Hey." I said quietly, rubbing the sleep from my eyes. "What's up?"

Brendon glanced at Ryan. "I'm really worried about him." He said, barely above a murmur. "Like, more than I normally am. Much more."

"I'm fine." Came a mumble from Brendon's end, and Ryan shifted a little. "I told you."

"Baby -"

"I'm just tired." Ryan insisted, opening his eyes and looking at me. "Tell him, Frank."

I knew for a fact that Ryan wasn't fine, and I knew that Brendon knew he wasn't fine. I didn't want to lie to Brendon, but Ryan was right; if both of them lost hope, then...

There was an empty bottle of gin on the floor, and I picked it up, the glass cool in my hands. I looked down at it, picturing Bert putting it to his lips and gulping down the liquid inside. There was a sigh, and when I raised my head, Brendon spoke.

"See? We need to get you to hospital at some -"

"No!" Ryan begged. "I mean -" he shot me a look, and I licked my lips.

"He's fine, Bren." I swallowed heavily. "The treatment's gonna make him tired, isn't it. He's getting better. He's improving."

I didn't know if Ryan was going to die; I didn't want him to, that was for sure, but whether he would or not still remained a mystery to all of us. Maybe he had just given up inside. Maybe he didn't believe he was going to be okay until he actually was okay.

I did know one thing, however: Brendon would be distraught if he had to bury his husband.

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Hey guys!

Sorry for the long wait, I posted a message on my message board not long ago vaguely explaining it, and...yeah. I hope this chapter makes up for the wait, and I hope you guys liked it because it was hard to write, not gonna lie. Like, emotion-wise...ya know?

There might be smut next chapter, idk - I'm addicted to Lying Is The Most Fun... at the moment, so...who knows?

Fuck knows what I'm going to be updating next and when I'm going to be updating it - it's hard to believe I actually have things to do, omg. But yeah, bear with me guys, I promise it'll be worth it :)

Much love!

Thanks Pete,

-xøcharr <3