Maybe it was a little selfish to want Brendon to stay. After all, even if he did make the best recovery possible, it wouldn't be in full. He'd live with the mental and physical remnants of the death scare for the rest of his life; maybe he would even get worse over time. And he'd just been suffering for so long already... Ryan of course wanted Brendon to see his own expansive talent grow and reach more and more people, wanted him to progress as a person for himself, but he also just needed him there. They had some sort of symbiotic relationship, had for a long time. Without one, the other cannot thrive, so on. All the pamphlets in the visitor's section of the hospital had articles on how to deal with loved ones dying or how to cope with an extended sickness, etc., and he'd flip through them whenever he got kicked out of the room, but. None of them seemed to pertain to the two of them, didn't understand the complexity and depth to what they felt for another. Corny, but true.

So, definitely a degree of selfishness. Either way, as much as he was striving to keep Brendon around as long as possible, as much as he was what Brendon clung to, it was the same the other way round. Everything in his life was on hold not just because it felt like he should be there, but because he wanted to be there. He didn't necessarily want to see all the negatives - that was the shitty part, really, of spending every waking moment with him through all of this; he had so many symptoms to observe it was hard to keep up - but he wanted to help as much as he could. Of course there wasn't much he could do medically, which was really what Brendon needed now, but he supported in every other way. Ryan had made it very clear that all the financial complications involved here were sent to him, too, and any messages from insurance. Not like Brendon needed another weight on his shoulders.

An interesting concept that Ryan considered was maybe just conveniently disappearing when Brendon did. Brendon, in turn, clearly knew his thought process. He could sense the disapproval, but... really he had no clue what else to do. The music would take a permanent hiatus, probably, unless somehow he discovered that creating made him feel better (which, generally, any productivity didn't). He probably wouldn't want to look any of their friends in the face anymore - they were [i]Brendon's[/i] friends, they would just serve as a reminder. Any jokes they'd share with each other, it'd feel wrong that Brendon wasn't there laughing with them. And he would definitely have to move. Maybe. There was another side to all of this - staying where he was and continuing as normal after the bereavement dissipated, it might be nice to see reminders of him, to have evidence of Brendon's effect everywhere. Easier to consider than all of this: walking onto a highway, losing balance from too high up, misreading the label on his medication, so on. Brendon would kill him [i]again[/i] if that happened, or if he knew the exact lengths to which Ryan thought about it, he'd probably just kill him then, ironically enough.

But he was getting ahead of himself, there. He still didn't think Brendon was dying. All right, Brendon [i]was[/i] obviously dying, but he wasn't going to [i]die.[/i] Not necessarily. And when Brendon introduced the idea of them only having a month left together... how could he fit a lifetime into that amount of time, and how could he do it from a hospital room? That raised another question: if he did believe after all that there was only a month, should they just discharge him now? Then at least Brendon might be able to experience a spell of normalcy before- that. Considering the amount of machines around him helping him cling to life, though, Ryan didn't think that was a viable option anymore. He just needed to come up with other ways to make Brendon's final weeks as peaceful as possible, happy rather than grievous, because there was no point mourning while he was still alive. [i]If[/i] the month was true.

[i]It’s not their fault, baby.[/i] Yeah. He was right. But now it needed to be somebody's fault, and the staff, the entirety of goddamned healthcare could take the heat. [i]And maybe I didn’t, but now I know. You- nobody can change that. Better start a calendar, start counting the days.[/i] Maybe Ryan would have appreciated the lightness in his voice, how casually he could approach this subject, at any other time, but. If Brendon 'knew,' then maybe it wasn't so far-fetched that he really did only have something like four weeks left. Maybe he did feel the end nearing closer, and just the thought of that weight on his shoulders... Ryan wished he could do something to ease the burden, but for now all he could do was lose his composure after months of being able to maintain it.

He heard his name, could hear Brendon through the fog that clouded his brain now, but was too lost in his thoughts to stop and acknowledge it. When he asked for some kind of legitimacy, Brendon didn't answer immediately. The more time passed without an answer, the more one became clear in Ryan's mind anyway: he must feel his time running out. Ryan pursed his lips, trying to tear his gaze from Brendon's so he wouldn't have to watch him lose it, but now he didn't want to waste a moment looking anywhere else or being anywhere else. He vaguely felt Brendon's hand take his but still couldn't regain much sensation at all, and, because it was easier than holding himself up straight any longer, he let his forehead rest against their joined hands after kissing the back of Brendon's. He wasn't going to cry, he wasn't.

[i]Get in with me, would you?[/i] So no answer became an answer. Ryan suppressed a tiny choked sound as best he could, letting it die in the back of his throat, but the shudder that accompanied it and tears that sprung to his eyes became his tell. He kept his head down for another moment until he could force the tears not to fall, letting them disappear once he closed his eyes, and once he came back up nodded profusely. He almost tried for an audible 'of course' but his voice didn't seem to cooperate. Failing that, he climbed over the side of the bed, careful not to touch any of the levers beneath or set askew any monitors, and fit his body against Brendon's where he wasn't stuck with an IV or bound by a wire from a heartrate sensor. It had gotten easier over time to ignore the fact that Brendon was now bonier than ever before, how when he wrapped an arm around him he could feel every protrusion and his always unusual body temperature. Still. That paired with the conversation topic made it necessary for him to shut his eyes tight, blocking out everything around him and trying to focus instead on Brendon's voice, his breathing, his [i]actual[/i] heartbeat and not the annoying beeps that accompanied it from a distance.

He curled his free hand around the back of Brendon's head, fingers scratching absently at the slightly overgrown hair that nearly rivalled his, and let their intertwined hands rest between their chests. He pressed his forehead against Brendon's temple, trying to steady his breathing and make the verge-of-tears feeling go away. Brendon seeing Ryan take the hit so hard would just make it worse for him, anyway. He could save having some sort of breakdown for whenever he absolutely [i]had[/i] to leave, where it wouldn't stress Brendon out more. After a shaky exhale he tried again to speak despite the tightness in his throat. [b]"I don't..."[/b] Pause. He was at a loss for words. Ryan squeezed his eyes tighter, like the blackness couldn't be enough. [b]"I don't know how we're supposed to fit forever into a month,"[/b] he said softly, his voice nearly betraying him towards the end.

He'd like to renew their vows despite them not even having aged, he could do that right in the goddam room. He'd like to take Brendon somewhere warm where he could feel the sun constantly. He'd like to spend another day in bed with him doing nothing after a full week of being so busy they could barely breathe. He'd like Brendon to be able to see his dogs again after six months of nothing at all. He'd like Brendon to be okay again, he'd like them to find their first grey hairs together that were from [i]age[/i] and not stress (and to see Brendon subsequently throw a hissy fit about it), he'd like to retire with him, he'd like him to not go at all. Ryan realised suddenly his face was wet and quickly turned in to his arm, clearing away the evidence. [b]"...Are you scared?"[/b] Ryan was scared of just the idea himself - he still didn't even believe it was true. A [i]month[/i]. [b]"'cause - you don't need to be. I'll be here, always,"[/b] he murmured, feeling just slightly cheesy saying it out loud.

And then since Brendon always needed a lighter follow-up, he figured he should include one, too. Anything to distract him from actually believing in the prediction - his denial was the only thing keeping him semi-composed. [b]"I mean, unless I start to get annoying. Then just tell me to screw off."[/b] He couldn't really laugh, but. He squeezed Brendon's hand as a substitute.