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“Holy fuck, Urie, you’re sneezing like a machine.” Ryan commented with a chuckle, his hand coming up to rub Brendon’s back, evidently concerned for his friend. He felt for him, really. Because whenever Brendon got sick, he got sick. And though it didn’t happen all too often, thanks to his trusty immune system, whenever he was to come down with something, it sentenced him to bed for days. “You sure you’re still fine to hang out after school? We can always—“
“No!! Nope! I’m—“ Poor Bren was interrupted by a fit of coughs, a few heads of passers-by turning. “—I’m still up for it.” He managed a weak smile as he wiped at his reddened nose with his sleeve, his black converse shuffling against the linoleum floor of the school.
“Dude, I don’t think that’s—“
“No, seriously, Ross! It’s just the… the school air that’s making it worse. Lots of sick people roaming around, yknow? I’ll be better by the end of the day, I swear.” He tried to reassure, purposely paying no mind to the fact that he sounded desperate as hell. Although he wanted nothing more than to just admit ‘awh, man, I shouldn’t have come to school today. I feel like total shit.’, he just wanted something—someone—to get his mind off of being so ill.
And so Ryan sighed, understanding his inner predicament, while honestly just wanting to spend time with his best friend too. “Alright. I’ll see ya, then.”
He patted Brendon’s back, turning on his heel to walk to his last class of the day, but stopping in his tracks when he heard Brendon whimper behind him, a pathetic sound he didn’t even know the other boy could make. “What— what was that?”
Ryan laughed out loud, clutching his abdomen as he doubled over in hysteria.
“F-fuck off, it wasn’t anything. I just— sneezed or something. Go to class, Ross.” Brendon’s tone was a painful attempt at dismissive and teasing, interspersed with pathetic sniffles and teary eyes that totally killed the act. Not to mention the slight pout that always seemed to pull at his lips and flushed (raw) cheeks and nose making him look absolutely adorable. Ryan chuckled with a shake of his head at the way Brendon could barely look at him, turning around for good this time and padding down the hallway. He mumbled a soft “See ya later…” under his breath as his friend’s presence became an afterthought and the normal teenage mind took over.
Tests, texting, girls, food, classes.
All of the superficial shit that seemed to disappear from relevancy when he was with Brendon.
And he didn’t know how to feel about that.
Brendon smiled as widely as his normally plump and lovely lips—now chapped and pale—could, sluggishly (in comparison to his typically bubbly and pepped-up stride) headed over to Ryan, who was leaning against his car waiting for the other boy.
“‘Sup, Ry? Ready to go?” He greeted casually, clearing his throat aggressively, trying way too hard to seem like his condition had improved (in the span of a solid hour) since they had last met.
“Yeah, I’m ready. Are you? Feeling better, Brenny?” Ryan grinned, fully knowing how Brendon hated (loved?) the nickname as his hand came up to gently rub the other boy’s shoulder.
Brendon couldn’t help but flush a little red, averting his gaze from Ryan and answering with a simple, white lie. “Yeah. M’feeling better. Can we go now? It’s too cold out here.” He sniffled, changing the subject abruptly.
“Sure. Get in.” Ryan unlocked the passenger door for his friend, who promptly slumped into the seat, his eyes closing in an uncomfortable groan. Ryan circled around the car and into the driver’s seat, eyeing how wrecked Brendon looked. “Dude, seriously, are you okay? You look like hell right now.”
Brendon coughed lightly and rolled his head against the headrest to look at Ryan, his hair splaying awkwardly against the leather. “M’fine. Still wanna hang out. Just drive.” His hand waved lazily at the road. And Ryan silently accepted the request, pulling out of his parking spot and letting the wheels take them where they’ve both been more times than they could count: Brendon’s house.
And just as they were about to reach the home stretch, Brendon suddenly felt the urge that had been plaguing him all day, come back with a fighting force.
The feeling of rolling along the asphalt, seeing the suburban Vegas sights he saw every day, the blurring motion beginning to feel like too much for his aching brain.
It felt almost comedic; a scene straight out of a cartoon, like he knew his face was paling and his cheeks were puffing out. At first, he didn’t want to mention the sting of saliva pooling in his mouth and the stabbing feeling in his stomach. To not worry Ryan, who needed to focus on driving, whom he had also told he was feeling good enough to hang out with. But it became too noticeable to ignore, and he figured it’d be worth the ‘I told you so’ from his friend if it meant stressing him to get to his house any quicker.
“O-oh fuck— Ryan, dude—“ Brendon’s hand came up to cover his mouth, gagging quietly as to not alarm him too much.
“What? What’s wrong?” But Ryan didn’t even need words from Brendon to understand what he was telling him. He read his body like a book; face hidden in the crook of his elbow as his poor body trembled in waves, suppressed retches coming up in dry heaves.
“Brendon, fuck, if you throw up in my car, I’m gonna make you clean it up after..!” Ryan threatened in a panic as he stepped on the gas pedal, speeding down the relatively empty residential roads, swerving into Brendon’s family home’s driveway with record precision (not. He ended up knocking over a plant or two belonging to Brendon’s mother, but that’s was an issue to be solved later). At the moment, nothing mattered but getting his friend inside and to the nearest goddamn toilet so he could let out all that sickness.
They didn’t even bother to kick off their shoes as they rushed inside the empty home, his arm thrown over Ryan’s shoulder to keep him any kind of upright. The poor boy couldn’t even form words with how hard he was trying to hold back, his other hand clamped over his mouth as he gagged ceaselessly. When they finally made it to the bathroom (the upstairs one, even though the journey was longer. Ryan knew Brendon would want to be closer to his bedroom when this was all over), Ryan lowered Brendon to the floor in front of the toilet, rubbing his back as he leaned over the bowl, retching and heaving miserably, finally letting out whatever his stomach couldn’t contain. Admittedly, Ryan knew that if he watched, the sight would trigger a like reaction from his own body, so he settled for just staring down at the suddenly interesting tiled floor, telling Brendon that he’d be okay with comforting touches as he listened to him practically cough up his guts.
“Shh, Bren, you’re fine… it’ll be over before y’know it.” He attempted to soothe his friend, his fingers finding the other boy’s black hair, now damp with a thin film of sweat. His attempts helped to an extent, Brendon finding momentary comfort in having his hair touched so softly by the older boy, but another wave of nausea sent him back over the toilet.
Tears were streaming down Brendon’s face by the time his body decided enough was enough, sobbing hunched over the porcelain. He wanted nothing more than to just vanish on the spot, embarrassed that Ryan had to see him like that, as well as feeling like pure and utter shit from having just puked his guts up. Ryan could see his discomfort and gently asked “Done now?”, and a weak nod from Brendon prompted him to lightly pull him away from the toilet, sitting him up against the bathroom wall beside it. Brendon’s throat was too raw to get any words of protest out as Ryan plucked a couple sheets of toilet paper off the roll and tenderly took them to Brendon’s face, cleaning him up with a gentle hand. Brendon didn’t make a sound, not even a whimper or a whine, as the soft tissue rubbed at the area around his lips. And Ryan realized had never seen Brendon like this, never without something to say. So wrecked and exposed; his big, brown doe eyes half-lidded and worn out, staring pitifully like he didn’t want Ryan’s eyes on him. Ryan huffed out a sigh and tossed the toilet paper into the toilet and flushed it, commenting a soft “You look like hell” when he kneeled in front of him again that he didn’t think would impact Brendon so profoundly. The other boy’s eyes welled up with fresh tears, slumping forward against Ryan, his face buried in his shoulder. Even just the whine that tore from his throat hurt when it came out, Brendon’s voice all scratchy and gritty. Ryan didn’t quite know what to do with the crying boy in his arms, always the less touchy and affectionate one of the pair. But he knew that Brendon needed him right now, and he also knew he wanted to give him whatever he could, even if it meant expressing an intimacy that he rarely let show. His lanky arms came up to wrap around the trembling form of Brendon, offering him as much comfort as he was able.
“Shhh… it’s okay, I’m sorry…” The words felt wrong coming out of his mouth, hating how awkward and insincere he sounded. Why couldn’t he just be normal? His best friend was a sobbing, blubbering mess against his chest, crying against him on the bathroom floor, and he was struggling to comfort him. He felt like nothing short of the worst friend in the world, but, little did he know, this was more than enough for Brendon. Just having his favourite person with him, one of the only people he had ever gotten so close to, holding him, soothing him (albeit awkwardly)… it made him feel tenfold better than he did a couple minutes ago. Though the feeling of vulnerability was uncertain, uncomfortable, unfamiliar, and fuelled his ever-streaming tears down his reddened and raw cheeks, it was far outweighed by the feeling of just existing in the arms of the boy he loved.
…
Boy he loved?
As a friend.
He didn’t think of Ryan that way. And neither did Ryan of Brendon.
…Right?
After a while of sitting in relative silence, broken frequently by Brendon’s heartbreaking sniffles, raw coughs, and quiet sobs, Ryan spoke up softly as to not startle Brendon. “Feeling better? At all?”
Brendon nodded gently in response, his nose rubbing against the soft skin of Ryan’s neck, fingers still fisted in the fabric of his shirt.
“D’ya wanna get up now..? Go to bed? Take a nap? I can get you a snack or something. Are you even supposed to do that? I dunno.” Ryan offered gently, hazel eyes flicking to Brendon’s miserable face as he finally pulled away from his shoulder. The pathetic boy nodded, lips shaped into that little pout again, his hands wanting to come up to wipe away the tears from his face, but something in him held him back.
He wanted Ryan to do it.
He wanted Ryan to see through him like he always did; take care of him like what was becoming the new norm of today.
“What? Why’re you looking at me like that?” Ryan questioned, unable to fight the small smile creeping up onto his lips as Brendon’s eyes bored into his, big round pools of nothing but that dark brown that bordered too close to black; long lashes that kept their sparkle safe. They wanted him to understand.
“What? Don’t be a baby, what do you want from me?” He chuckled, poking Brendon’s forehead in the hopes of maybe annoying him into using his words. But just as he was about to pull his hand back, Brendon’s fingers wrapped around his wrist, a gentle but firm grip, guiding his hand to the side of his face, thumb guiding Ryan’s to wipe away his lingering tears.
“Ohhh, I see…” Ryan smiled gently, taking the lead like Brendon desperately wanted him to, too tired to do anything for himself (but also taking advantage of this state to force Ryan into giving him some love). Ryan’s thumbs gently rubbed away the salty mess on Brendon’s pale cheeks, the entire thing feeling all too domestic. Not like either of them minded.
“You just want me to do everything for you now, don’t you? Got it. And I won’t complain ‘cause you know I’d do anything for you anyway.” Ryan’s hand moved fluidly from Brendon’s face into his hair, grinning gently as the other boy leaned into the touch like a puppy. He wished he could see the scene without his own eyes, while also being grateful that they were his seeing it. The sick boy, so comforted by his touch, a tired smile on his pretty lips, the first one since earlier today. But then Ryan patted Brendon’s back, signalling him to sit up and let go of him, to which Brendon whined in response.
“No…” He voiced quietly, hugging Ryan tighter (if that was even possible).
“Come on, Bren. I’m just gonna get up and get you some water from the sink, could you let go for just a second? I promise I’m not going anywhere.” And Brendon believed him. He had no reason not to. He’d stayed with him this long—even after he had ruined their plans—so there wasn’t any way he would think about leaving now. So he reluctantly loosened his grip on Ryan, letting him stand up and fill a paper cup with water from the sink. Ryan kneeled in front of him again and guided the cup towards his lips, holding an empty one in his other hand.
“Drink from this one, spit it into this one.” Brendon followed his command, drinking from the cup up to his lips and swishing the water around for a moment, before spitting it out into the empty cup. They began a short cycle of sip, swish, and spit, until the sour taste of vomit was mostly absent from Brendon’s mouth.
“Good boy.” Ryan praised casually, patting Brendon’s head as he stood to pour the cup down into the sink drain, having no idea how Brendon would feel about the words. Having no idea that he’d love it.
“Am I..?” Brendon asked, interrupted by a light cough, staring up at Ryan’s tall form from where he still sat against the wall, wide-eyed and entranced by the compliment, voice rendered small and soft.
“Yeah. Now, uh, d’ya wanna get outta here? Off the bathroom floor? Smells like barf in here, man.”
“Yeah, yeah…” Brendon managed to force out, brushing off the fact that Ryan had called him something like that just as fast as Ryan himself did. He let himself be helped up, leaning on Ryan as he led him over to his bedroom, not before flicking on the fan in the bathroom. The environment of Brendon’s bedroom was far more welcoming and comfortable than the cold bathfo, something they both appreciated as Brendon got settled into bed, pouting pitifully as Ryan left his side.
“You’re okay. I’m just gonna keep my word and go get you something to eat, if you want it.”
“Don’t think you’re supposed to eat after.” After throwing up, Brendon meant. But he didn’t have nearly enough energy to finish his sentence. He knew Ryan would read his mind and catch his drift anyway.
“Fine. But if you need anything, you tell me, okay? I’m gonna get you a box of tissues or something.”
Brendon nodded in response, sinking deeper into his sheets, but feeling unable to get warm. Maybe there was something he needed.
Without thinking entirely, his arms outstretched in Ryan’s direction as he turned to grab the aforementioned tissues, like a baby making grabby-hands, accompanied by a small whine that made Ryan turn around.
“Seriously?” He huffed, amused at the sight of sick, desperate Brendon, eyes puffy from crying, nose red and raw, lips pouting again, reaching out for him. “Will you just let me go get the goddamn tissues?” Ryan asked, though secretly so charmed by the lamentable boy a few feet away from him. Brendon shook his head no, feeling fresh tears welling in his sore eyes at the thought of Ryan disappearing, even if only for a minute or two.
“Please…” He introduced. Begging. Ryan couldn’t say no to that, not when Brendon was so utterly wrecked and desperate for his affection. Affection that he seemed to have been saving for times like this.
He groaned, “Fine. But if you get your snot all over my shirt because you didn’t let me grab tissues, I’ll be mad, and it’ll be your fault.”
And with that, he headed back over to where Brendon was resting, sitting at his beside with him, unsure of what the boundaries were. What did he want? Did he just want his presence? His touch? Cuddles? Ryan thought he’d die if it was the last option.
Ryan’s heart just about stopped when Brendon pulled him down beside him.
The other boy buried himself into Ryan’s side, not caring if this was normal for friends to do. He felt like total shit, and all he wanted was the comfort of Ryan.
And Ryan couldn’t help but give it to him.
He turned towards Brendon a little more, his arms wrapping around him again, holding him safely against his chest, head tucked under his chin, letting the poor boy rest after his body had been put through so much exertion. He could feel Brendon going limp with sleep, his form lying heavier against him. The faint buzz of the fan still humming from the bathroom across the hall filled the silence between them, one boy conscious, the other completely knocked out already.
As Brendon slept and got in some well-needed rest to help heal his ill body, Ryan couldn’t help but just think as all background noise died out; dwindling and quieting to welcome swirling thoughts into his mind.
He knew this wasn’t normal.
Tenderly wiping away your sick friend’s tears isn’t something all boys would do.
Calling that sick friend a ‘good boy’ isn’t something you just do.
Cuddling him to sleep isn’t just a ‘bro’ thing.
And on Brendon’s part…
Crying at the thought of your best friend leaving isn’t a casual thing.
Using your sickness as an excuse to get affection from him isn’t really a best friend activity.
Pulling him down into bed with you, and having that warm feeling of his arms around you lulling you to sleep?
…Not quite friendly.
Brendon woke from his slumber later when he felt Ryan, lost in deep thought, squeezing him so tightly it brought him back to consciousness.
“Ry..?” He mumbled sleepily, bleary eyes looking up at Ryan, whose eyes were still locked on the wall in front of him, eyebrows furrowed, gripping the boy in his arms tight enough to hurt. “Ow, Ryan…” Brendon whimpered, tugging at his fingers in attempt to loosen this mysterious death-grip. Ryan snapped out of his daze, looking down at Brendon pouting sleepily in his arms.
“Shit, sorry, man…” He let go of the boy entirely, arms crossing over his chest, gaze averting to the floor beside Brendon’s bed.
The lack of warmth surrounding him made Brendon almost want to cry again, this sudden coldness being the absolute last thing he wanted to wake up to, especially when feeling this ill. “Wha—…” Brendon tilted his head, like a dog confused, shifting closer to Ryan again, sniffling softly, his hair sleep-mussed and messy. But Ryan wouldn’t let him close again.
“I-is it because I’m sick..?”
“Brendon, stop.” Ryan voiced sternly, still not looking at the other boy.
“N-no, Ry, p-please— what happened..? W-why are you being like that..?“ Brendon couldn’t help the tears that fell again, for the third goddamn time today. He was emotional when he was sick. Made even more so by how distant the only person who was caring for him right now had turned in a matter of however long he had slept. But Ryan kept pushing (him away).
“I’m not being mean, Brendon, this just— this isn’t normal!!” Ryan’s voice raised, tone sharp enough to cut the thick tension forming in the room.
“What’s not normal..?” Brendon sniffled, sobbing softly with aggressive coughs attacking him occasionally.
“This. Us. Me and you? Friends don’t do this! Friends don’t cuddle, friends don’t—“
“D-do we have to talk about this now..?” Brendon voiced with all of his might, throat still sore from coughing and throwing up, and… he just couldn’t do this at the moment. “I feel like fucking shit, I just puked up my guts in front of you, my head is pounding, and you’re asking me if we’re a thing or not because I wanted comfort from you?!” He sobbed, nose running like a goddamn faucet, looking just as much of a mess as before he fell asleep.
But this time, it was Ryan’s fault.
And Ryan felt badly.
But not badly enough to stop pushing the tense conversation.
“Yeah! I’m talking about it now because it’s all I could think about when you were asleep!”
“W-what do you want me to tell you, Ryan…” Brendon’s tone shifted right back to small again, turning helpless and lacking defence against Ryan’s violent rant as he rubbed a hand over his tired face. His eyebrows knitted up in a pleading arch, just wanting some peace and quiet for his aching brain.
“I want you to tell me that— that you— that you want me like I want you! Like I always have! Like I don’t want to, but I can’t help it!” Ryan basically outed himself.
“…That’s a lot of wanting, Ry.” Brendon deadpanned, wishing he could give Ryan the enthusiastic response he clearly wanted, but all that his level of energy could muster up was a simple “…But I do.”
“What… you do what?”
“I do want you. I love you, Ry.” Brendon smiled sleepily, slumping back down against his pillows, testing the waters and snuggling into Ryan’s side again.
And this time, Ryan welcomed the contact back.
“You love me? You love me too..?” Ryan asked, disbelieving in Brendon’s genuine words.
“I love you…” He mumbled with a soft smile as he buried his face into the side of Ryan’s neck, the only place he ever wanted to be forever, even if it meant soaking the other boy’s shirt with his leftover tears and snot.
But did Ryan keep his word and ‘get mad’ like he said he would?
Absolutely not.
He couldn’t find it in himself to care about anything else but the fact that they loved each other. Though they both had wished that this had come to be at a better time, maybe sometime where Brendon wasn’t fighting for his life against a pounding headache, nausea, and congestion, all because of a lousy stomach bug.
But the fact that it had come to be at all was more than enough for either of them.
“I love you, Bren,” Ryan grinned a little, pulling the other boy a little closer. “I wanna kiss you. I should kiss you, I feel like I should,” Ryan teased—and Brendon’s eyes seemed to light up brighter than they had in days—nodding along eagerly with Ryan’s words— “But not enough to risk getting sick.”
Brendon deflated like a popped balloon, all sad and pouty again, his head dropping down onto Ryan’s shoulder in embarrassment “Oh, fuck you… I-I really thought you wanted to—"
“…You said your head was hurting.”
“Huh?” Brendon lifted his head again, an eyebrow cocked in confusion.
“Earlier. You were like, ‘oh, Ryan, why are you confessing your undying love for me when I’m literally dying of sickness and my head hurts!’” Ryan mocked playfully.
“…Well, yeah, it still hurts. But that’s seriously all you got out of that?”
“No. I also got you out of that.” Ryan grinned. “But I’m also gonna get you some pain meds.” He continued, pressing a sweet kiss to Brendon’s forehead, making the sick boy melt with comfort and affection. He leaned up and tried to kiss Ryan’s face back, but met with the sight of him pulling away. “Ah-ah. Nope.” Ryan shook his head, leaning away from Brendon’s lips. “You’re sick. You let me take care of ya, okay?” Ryan insisted with a grin, attacking Brendon’s cheeks with soft, loving kisses.
“Goddamnit, fine.” Brendon mumbled through a wide smile, happily accepting the affection he wanted all this time.
And you know what?
Sure, this wasn’t how their little hangout was supposed to go.
But suddenly the thought of Brendon puking up his guts earlier wasn’t so bad after all. Maybe it really was gonna be okay. Sure, it was just a pesky stomach bug. But this love was the kind that you can’t kick so easily. The kind that leaves your (previously empty) belly feeling hot and full with love, and
So.
Damn.
Happy.
(…but maybe still a bit congested).