The Naked Truth [Ryden]

Epilogue: Finale

When the first thing Spencer saw upon opening his eyes in hospital was Ryan Ross, who had a black eye, other assorted facial bruising and his right arm in a sling, he frowned. The action increased the pounding in his head, and he hissed, pressing the button for the nurse with one hand and rubbing his forehead with the other.

"Who threw you down the stairs?" He croaked, his throat dry from not being used for at least a week. He reached over to the cabinet beside his bed and picked up a glass of water that had been there almost as long as he had, and he sipped it, grimacing. "Huh?"

Ryan glanced at the door. Where the heck was the nurse? "Nobody."

"Wow, you mean nobody wants you dead? Since when did you become a fucking Saint?"

"Since when did you become a sarcastic little bitch?" Ryan snapped.

"Get fucked, Ross."

"I'm beginning to wish you'd woken up with memory loss. Or worse."

Spencer just flipped him off as a nurse finally arrived, and it was silent between them for a few minutes while the nurse asked him questions, checked the chart at the end of his bed and made sure all his organs were working properly. He was nice as pie to her, sickly sweet, and the second she was gone he went back to being that bitter taste in your mouth after you vomit.

"So what did happen, if nobody pushed you down the stairs? Did you fall? Were you too busy looking at your own reflection?" He spat, his hands clenching into fists in the thin hospital sheets.

"Actually, no. It was a car accident. Got hit by a truck."

"Wasn't a fucking car accident then, was it?"

"I was in the fucking car, dipshit." If he'd known that Spencer would just rip him apart the second he woke, he'd never have come here. But he had to. Kind of.

"How the fuck does that work? I hit my head and I'm unconscious for like a week, and you're in a car accident and you've barely got a bruise."

"I had internal bleeding, you pile of wank." He shook his head. "You know what? Fuck you. Have fun being bitter and alone, Spencer." And then he left without glancing back.

~

Two days later, back in his hospital bed after getting a stern telling off from his doctor, Ryan got a surprise visit from Gee.

They were in sweatpants and a sweater that he knew definitely wasn't theirs, and they looked like they hadn't slept for days. "Spencer wants to see you," they said, sinking into one of the uncomfortable chairs by his bed. "He wants to know where Brendon is. Sounds pretty important."

"Fuck." Ryan exhaled, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Am I gonna have to lie to him?"

"I don't know; do what you think's best, man."

"Yeah but every decision I seem to make ends up with me in shit." He frowned. "Gee, are you okay?"

"Yeah, yeah I'm good, I just...don't know how all of this happened. And Frank left me last night, I don't know why, but he just said he'd had enough and walked out." They shrugged. "Anyway, it doesn't matter. You need to talk to Spencer."

Grudgingly, Ryan let Gee help him get to Spencer's room, where the elder was sat, waiting impatiently for the two. On the way, he tried to decide whether he should tell the truth about Brendon, or lie. Neither would be easy, or great to deal with, but it was just a question of which was easier. Which was right. Ryan didn't know. His head swam with possibility and regret. He swore to change things, make it better, once he got out of hospital.

"Took your fucking time." Spencer snarled, as Gee helped Ryan into a chair.

"Less of the mouth, dickbag." Gee retorted, pointing their finger at the hospitalised piece of shit that was Spencer Smith. "You're not the only person in this place."

"Yeah, well, neither's he."

"Brendon's dead, Spencer." Ryan snapped, losing his shit. "I suggest you shut the fuck up."

And he did. For a very long time.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------