And So We Fall

So it Goes

*Ryan's POV*

I give Brendon a soft smile as the elevator ascends to the third floor. He looks at me nervously, and he hates these visits, I know. But he won't stop. No, he won't stop until he has to.

There's a soft ding and the elevator doors slide open. I take Brendon's hand in mine as we walk past the nurse's station and down the hall. The place smells like bleach and piss. Very sterile yet humiliating.

The door to his grandfather's room is slightly ajar, the muffles of a television pouring into the hallway. Brendon goes in first, and I can feel his hand tense up in mine.

"Hi, Grandpa." He always puts on a happy facade in front of his grandfather. I think, deep down, he's afraid it's the only version of Brendon the old man can recognize. He hides his anxiety behind a confident smile, his hand slipping out of mine as he walks to his grandfather's bedside.

His grandfather is hooked up to several machines, monitoring his heart rate and blood pressure and glucose levels and so on. He grins, wrinkled skin bunching up around his eyes and mouth. "Hello, Barney."

"I'm Brendon, Grandpa." He responds patiently. He's used to being called a different name by now. At first, it really bothered him. As soon as we'd leave the hospital he'd be silent, staring out the car window, ignoring my questions. I think he's desperately trying to hang on to who his grandfather used to be. But it only gets worse from here. I don't tell Brendon that. He knows.

His grandfather smiles. "I knew that." He squeezes Brendon's hand tightly in both of his. I think about how awful that must be. Knowingly losing your mind. It's like watching you destroy yourself. And then one day, you're so far gone that reality slips away, living in constant fear of everything and everyone around you, including yourself.

Brendon tries his best to keep up a conversation, though it's hard when the other person solely speaks in incoherent jumbles of sentences and strange syllables. Brendon will ask how his day was, and he'll go on and on about one of the nurses, how they're his best friend, how nobody cares about him as much as that nurse. I find it amusing. Brendon frowns.

"You have a lot of people that love you, Pop. Your daughter. Me and Jackie. Hell, even Ryan comes to see you." He gestures towards me, and I smile awkwardly, having not appreciated being dragged into the conversation. I'm here for support, not to chat with old men I barely know. And that might sound mean, and I guess it is, but I'm just not fond of strangers. Especially ones who've lost their mind.

"Who's Ryan?" Brendon's grandfather inquires, looking intently at his grandson.

"He's uh..." He shoots me a nervous glance. I shrug. Brendon's told him he's gay a million times but he always forgets. Every time he gets a new reaction. Sometimes angry, sometimes sad, sometimes celebratory, sometimes content. It's like coming out to a different person every week. I don't see the point, but Brendon insists. "My boyfriend."

His grandfather's eyebrows cinch together. "You're gay?" The blood pressure monitor makes a beep sound, meant to alert nurses of a sudden spike. Ah, well. Looks like it's a bad day.

Brendon's grandfather almost immediately lets go of his hand, and tries to back away as much as he can in his bed. Brendon, looking upset, attempts to calm his grandfather down.

"Grandpa, you gotta settle down. Your blood pressure—" He urges. I watch the line on the monitor increase steadily, like a train chugging up a hill.

"You're no grandson of mine! I will not— not have a fag grandson!" His voice is rising along with his blood pressure.

Brendon looks like he's been slapped in the face, clearly not used to the blatant homophobia. Tears well up in his eyes. "You've gotta calm down, Grandpa, okay?" His voice wavers.