It was typical of Brendon to be like this. Easygoing, carefree almost, a light in the dark... but that had been his behavior during [i]normal[/i] rough times. Ryan would have never expected this of him during a literal life-or-death situation. This was their dynamic - Ryan maintained the level head (or at least looked like it to everyone who wasn't them), while Brendon could behave as erratically as he wanted, succumb to whatever dramatics overtook him. It was unfamiliar territory here, where Ryan was on the verge of a breakdown, learning the very possible limit to his soulmate's life, how little time he had left, and then Brendon was coping with little visible struggle. Ryan truthfully had no clue what was running through his head, whether he was sad for himself or maybe sad for all he was leaving behind, but in any case it'd be impossible to tell. He seemed insistent on ignoring the reality of the situation, lifting the weight of the world without breaking a sweat. 

Ryan admired his courage, really. But knowing the facts behind it all, their real circumstances, made him less appreciative of the light tone Brendon was bringing to the table. [i]I think it’s pretty funny.[/i] Ryan couldn't muster a smile like Brendon's, not even a fake one, so he simply watched the fluorescent light above, catching the faintest flicker and blinking slowly in response. Brendon's sudden shift to hold his hand was welcome, fingers easily lacing together, but there was an urgency there, and Ryan swore that for the first time in a while he could read his thoughts. He squeezed his cold fingers tight, wistfully remembering a time where Ryan was the one who needed to steal warmth from his body, and tried to communicate nonverbally - [i]I'll be here, I'll always be here, I'm not going anywhere.[/i] He wasn't. At this point, with the new knowledge the doctors had so kindly given them, he probably wasn't even going to leave this spot at all. It didn't matter if everything was true, and he didn't want to see the end; it was more important to him that Brendon didn't go alone.

As much as he tried to play it off, Ryan was crying, maybe not the dramatic full-body sob people played out in films, more quiet and draining, trying desperately not to look at Brendon - it'd make it worse, for one thing, and he just. Didn't need to put that extra burden on him. He felt Brendon's hand tighten on his, but it was so gentle, his strength dwindled down to nothing and Ryan knew that was as much of an effort he could give. It was just another straw on this growing shitshow, so he shut his eyes tight, pursed his lips and pretended the broken exhale that escaped him wasn't painfully obvious. It occurred to him that he needed to stop this, Brendon was the one suffering, Brendon was the one who needed his comfort and love and his reassurance that everything was going to be okay. But he also knew that if he told Brendon some bullshit like they'd all be fine, he'd see right through it. They had slim chances, even if Ryan was holding onto them, keeping the flames of optimism alive desperately. So he skipped all of the '[i]we'll be alright[/i]' bullshit, because they wouldn't be. 

[i]That depends. What are you dying of?[/i] Ryan wasn't laughing, or even vaguely smiling, just staring blankly ahead. He felt the point of Brendon's impossibly bony elbow in his side, squeezing his hand tighter and willing tears to stop. Since when was it even possible that Ryan could be the healthiest, most lively of the two of them? [i]I think I’d, like, be really bummed, because I wouldn’t get dick anymore.[/i] Ryan exhaled heavily, turning until he could press his wet face into Brendon's shoulder. He sort of hated him a little bit. The [i]dying[/i] love of his fucking life was getting on his nerves. Only Brendon, really. [i]In fact, that’s what’s so lame about this whole thing. I’m too sick for sex.[/i] It wasn't even funny, but Ryan was grinning through tears because he was so [i]stupid[/i], and he propped himself up a little until he could hover slightly over him, eyes scanning his warped features, every detail changed by this disease still so beautiful to him. Idiot was on his potential deathbed thinking about all the dick he was missing out on.

After a few moments Brendon's laughing subsided, turned into a tiny smile, and he seemed so okay and normal - though Ryan knew that was far from the truth - that he almost felt like things would, in fact, turn out fine. His fingers were no longer as cold between Ryan's, almost warmed to his temperature. For a second he could pretend this wasn't the end of the entire goddamn world. [i]You know, I don’t know. It’d be difficult, but. I know I’d- I know you’ll get through it, you know? You better.[/i] Ryan studied him in silence, his jaw clenching with the effort it took not to completely lose his composure again and start crying. Instead his brow furrowed considerably, breathing hitched. It was like he'd been on the cusp of a panic attack ever since he'd walked through the door - not a fantastic feeling at all. [b]"I'm sorry,"[/b] he said quietly, genuinely. [b]"I'm supposed to be... I don't know how to help you, baby, I don't know how to comfort you, I wish I could. You're not meant to be the one trying to stop me losing my shit."[/b] Which he already had. His face still stubbornly hadn't dried. [b]"I'm going to be here. I'm not leaving. I mean it."[/b] He'd said it already, but it felt like he couldn't get the words out often enough.