Tripping Down 12 Steps Into Malibu

Withdrawl

Brendon felt guilty.

It didn't make sense. It's not as if he did something wrong. In fact, it was quite he opposite. For the first time in he life he did the right thing. Ryan was sneaking drugs in and he got rid of them. Now the man could start his real journey into sobriety. He helped him.

So why didn't it feel like it?

It felt like he'd back stabbed a friend. Though, Ryan was in no way his friend. He made it very clear that he didn't want Brendon's friendship. So technically Brendon didn't owe him any loyalty. They were practically strangers.

So why was this bothering him so much? He sat at the top of his bed, his back pressed against the headboard. And he watched Ryan laying on his side. Shaking. It wasn't particularly cold in the room. But he'd been shaking since he woke up. Well, since Brendon woke up. He didn't remember Ryan going to sleep at all last night.

He glanced to his left. At the window. He could see everyone outside doing what they usually did. He spotted Pete and Patrick sitting beside each other in the grass. Usually he would be out there with them. He didn't feel up to it. No, today he wanted to sit in the room with Ryan and beat himself up with guilt.

"Ryan." He whispered his name. Brendon hated sitting in silence.

"Huh?"

"A-Are you cold? There's an extra blanket in the drawer."

"Thanks."

Brendon took that as a yes. He slid off the bed and opened his drawer. Pulling out the blanket and rushing it across the room to Ryan. He spread it open over the thin man. Pausing when he noticed a wet spot under his messy hair.

"Are you sweating?"

"Huh?"

"Ryan, you're sweating." Brendon pulled the blanket back. Exposing Ryan's dripping face. "Holy hell. You're sweating a lot. Are you sure you're cold?"

"Huh?"

"Ryan, are you hot or cold?"

"I-I don't know."

"What do you mean you don't know?"

"My arms are sore."

"Wha- Ryan, get up."

Brendon snatched the blankets off of him completely. Slipping his hands under his damp arms. He was skinny enough. Pulling him out of bed shouldn't be a problem.

Or so he thought.

Ryan was heavier than he looked. Maybe it was because he was tall. Brendon tightened his grip in another attempt to move him. This time proved to be more successful. Ryan's body inched closer to the edge of the bed.

"Ow." He groaned in protest.

"You have to help me here, Ryan." He pulled his arms again.

"Ow."

"Help me get you out of bed okay?" His only response was a weak nob.

He kicked one of his legs off the bed. And then the other. When he attempted to stand up, he stumbled. Brendon didn't hesitate in grabbing a hold of him again. They walked into the bathroom one shaky step at a time. Brendon pushed Ryan towards the bathtub. Ryan got the hint and stepped into it. Sitting down and pulling his knees towards his chest. Still sweating. Still shaking.

He had no idea if what he was about to do would work. He'd only seen it done in movies. When he was having withdrawal symptoms, Dallon would just hold him in bed. But he'd never had it as bad as Ryan. So he knew he needed to go a step further.

Reaching over, he turned the shower on. Freezing water poured over the tub. Some of it hitting Brendon. Ryan tightened his hold on himself. The cold shower wasn't going to help the shaking but it should stop the sweating. Maybe. He had no idea. He wasn't a fucking doctor!

"I-I'm cold." Ryan's lip quivered as he spoke.

"Yeah, I know." He pet the top of his wet hair.

"I think I'm going to throw up."

"Please don't."

Brendon sat on the floor beside the bath. Leaning his head against the cool  wall. Ryan leaned his head back on the shower tiles. Mimicking Brendon's position. They sat in mutual quiet. The only sound being the rushing water.