Ryan sort of wished Brendon was less expressive, but then if he wasn't able to see the total disappointment/rage/indignation mix on his face, he'd probably be acting even more like an idiot. So he wasn't sure. In any case his only thought process for the time being was [i]fuckfuckfuck.[/i] [i]Is this a fucking- [/i]joke [i]to you?[/i] Ryan's mental response was a very certain 'fuck no, my face is just stupid and I'm sick of myself,' or something like that, but it was hard to explain that he responded to his own ridiculousness visibly. He ended up not answering at all. Distantly he wondered if any of their [i]friends[/i] were like this behind closed doors, too, or maybe he and Brendon were just desperately messy. Well, not Brendon, necessarily. It tended to be Ryan that started these things. After all he could recall the beginning of this conversation - Ryan was the one to initially respond so inappropriately.

[i]You’re not the easiest person to talk to about this shit.[/i] Ryan hated himself. He really did. Avoiding meeting Brendon's gaze he thought back to all past confrontations about the subject - and then he was thinking how his dad died [i]years ago[/i], how he hadn't actively lived with him since he was, like, fifteen, how he should be over it all by now. Anyone mature could approach the problems Brendon had without a bias, total empathy, the only thing in their mind being a goal to help him. Ryan did want to help, but he was caught in his own wave even after all this time. [i]And I get it, but- who else do I have? All our friends drink, and Joey- he’s got his own problems, and-[/i] With only a few words Ryan felt how trapped Brendon must feel, understanding immediately at least on the surface. Their friends drank, yeah, but even if they didn't, half of them had been there when it all started. They weren't helpful then, and no one had changed enough to be entirely helpful now. Joey he was sure was over everything, after all he'd invited Brendon countless times to come to him for help, but of course Brendon was too considerate and too worried for Joey's well-being to do that. Ryan couldn't convince him otherwise, either.

So, he was alone. It didn't look like it, and everyone tried to make him feel like he wasn't, but if Brendon [i]felt[/i] utterly alone, then he effectively was. [i]I do have to be, though, don’t I? Some of the stuff I have to say, you won’t want to hear. It’ll be too familiar, or not familiar enough, and it’s not your fault, but I can’t talk about this with you all the time, as much as I want to, or as much as you want me to.[/i] [b]"It is,"[/b] he said quietly, without thinking, but it was barely audible anyway. He didn't elaborate right then, just stared at his hands while they continued, and through it all Brendon didn't appear to be receptive to any more of his bogus outreach. Ryan didn't exactly blame him, but it was frustrating that he couldn't fix all of his own issues and Brendon's instantly, that it seemed to get worse every time he tried to. He looked on sort of mournfully as Brendon dragged himself away, evidently over the failed efforts. [i]Whatever. You have a funny way of showing it.[/i]

When he reached the door Ryan panicked. [b]"It is my fault,"[/b] he said quickly, slightly less quiet than before, and he felt sick. [b]"I'm not just saying that. I don't want - pity, or whatever, I mean it. It's my fault I can't... get over everything. You need me, or [i]anyone,[/i] and I can't be there for you because of my own issues. It's selfish."[/b] He paused, staring straight ahead and then shifting his gaze to Brendon, suddenly very present. [b]"I'm sorry. For that and- all of this."[/b] More softly, but because he felt he needed the emphasis, Ryan repeated it: [b]"I'm sorry, Bren. I really am."[/b] It felt way too real and he almost considered dodging the seriousness of the situation by saying something dumb like 'maybe I just won't buy the next goddam album,' but he was out of energy and that was definitely not going to take the tension out of the air. He went slack against the cushions, looking at the ceiling. [b]"I want to, though. I want to be there."[/b] There was a certain desperation in his voice that he wanted to stomp out or hide otherwise - this was way too vulnerable, even when he was talking to the person he trusted most.