Brendon would’ve called Ryan his lifeline, but honestly, no matter how much he wished that love really could save him, Ryan was more what was keeping him from falling apart. In a desolate situation where he already knew what was at the end of the brief, agonising road, without somebody to hold onto, without reason, Brendon’s spirit would have broken by now- and even if it was beginning to be worn away, by pain and illness and weakness, humiliation at how he’d been reduced to [i]this[/i], anger at himself for not being strong enough- Ryan was, undoubtedly, what had kept him sane. Ryan, he told himself, was the reason he didn’t want Death to arrive at his door a little faster and save him from living out the last miserable, agonising weeks of his life for the simple sake of it- because Ryan was his reason. Every moment spent with him was a blessing and Brendon was, as a man in his kind of predicament, counting them carefully. 

It wasn’t like he was optimistic. He could go on about how much Ryan helped him all he wanted, his lover’s presence was a blessing and a curse simultaneously- as much as he wanted to believe that love conquered all, Brendon had come to realise this wasn’t true. In fact, love made all of this harder- and much more difficult to let go. It made the inevitability of his death a vague and horrifying concept, as he was too busy curled up in Ryan’s arms to allow himself to think about it all just ceasing to exist. The world, though, would go on without him. Ryan would go on without him- and though a part of him was endlessly happy about it, a selfish part of him felt immeasurable agony at the realisation that he was not the beginning and end of his husband’s world. It wasn’t like Brendon wanted to watch Ryan fall apart, but sometimes, anger at hospital staff and quiet frustration only made Brendon feel more sick.

That said, Brendon was stupid- he knew that Ryan was dumb enough to think something along the lines of [i]maybe I don’t have to live without him[/i] or [i]maybe be with him again sooner than he thinks.[/i] This made his throat tighten, and though he made no accusations, he just kind of glared with as much seriousness as his tired face could muster, hoping Ryan just... Got the message. Ryan was to keep going- Brendon had told him before, indirectly rejecting whatever ideas Ryan had going on in his head. Brendon had said that life would go on, and in a choked voice, had even proposed the possibility that Ryan was still young, he’d find somebody else. He was all for Ryan moving on and living life, but still, behind his encouragement, the idea of the one man he’d ever loved, his childhood best friend and the centre of brendon’s world ever being with anyone else made his insides twist. It would be best, he decided, to just not think about it at all.

Anyway. A month. Brendon had been in hospital for a few months already, and it had felt like a lifetime- but maybe now he was counting off the days to go, it would go faster, and Brendon wished he just hadn’t been told. Four weeks- give or take- left by Ryan’s side, left on this godforsaken earth. Under his obvious pain was relief- Brendon was constantly in pain, and was, despite everything, glad that this wouldn’t drag out for too long. It was harrowing- it the prospect of telling Ryan frightened him more. Propping himself up on the cushions a little further, wincing noticeably, he followed Ryan’s movements into the room, noticing the hand at his bedside, almost offered to him, and ignored it for the moment as he nervously, with a kind of quiet hysteria, delivered the news. 

[i]Bullshit.[/i] Brendon just blinked slowly, unsure. This was nothing new- Ryan getting angry at the doctors. It wasn’t their fault, but Brendon could never find the energy to interfere. [i]No, that can’t be right. Who told you... you really don’t need to be hearing that, you know? It’s bullshit. A[/i] month. Brendon sort of shifted uncomfortably, shrugging his shoulders. The slightest movement took way too much effort, and he geared himself to speak. [b]"It’s not their fault, baby,”[/b] He managed, but couldn’t meet Ryan’s gaze. [b]”And maybe I didn’t, but now I know. You- nobody can change that. Better start a calendar, start counting the days.”[/b] His last sentence was as light a tone as he could manage for a heavy subject like this. Brendon just wanted to feel vaguely normal for once, but it was hard when his husband was on the verge of breakdown. 

[i]A month.[/i] Ryan’s strained voice broke his heart. [i]Just kill me now,[/i] He begged silently to nothing in particular. [i]The longer I last, the harder it’ll be.[/i] why did he feel more grief for Ryan than himself? Brendon would have been amused, but. Well. [i]Fuck.[/i] Fuck. Ryan had gone white, and Brendon wondered absently what he looked like. Can’t have been very pretty- though every time he asked, Ryan boosted his ego x10, it was still pretty hard to feel too hot when he was confined to a hospital bed, his hair was a mess and his skin was jaundiced and sickly. No doubt he was gaunt, had lost muscle mass, and his eyes had yellowed too. Brendon silently cursed the disease for even taking away his good looks- that told you where his priorities were. [b]”Ryan-"[/b] [i]Brendon, they’re usually wrong. That doesn’t mean.[/i] Doesn’t mean what? Brendon knew he was going to die; it terrified him, and he wanted to just cling onto Ryan and life for as long as possible, but he had somewhat come to terms with it. Ryan, apparently, had not. 

[i]What do you think?[/i] Letting silence fill the room, Brendon felt uncomfortable. How was he supposed to know? To distract himself from such a question, he held out his hand, curling his fingers and intertwining them weakly with his husband’s, suddenly realising all he wanted to do from now til whenever his time was up was just be near the love of his life, to be held, to have him make it easier. If Brendon was going to die, it would be in Ryan’s arms. [b]"...Get in with me, would you?”[/b] Artfully ignoring the question, he willed the stress to go away. He was sick to death of limits being placed on his life, but it wasn’t like he had a choice.