The Man I Know I'm Not [Frerard] (Sequel To Tell Me I'm A Bad Man)

Sixteen - There Was Really Nothing I Could Do

The realisation that Ryan was dead hit Brendon full force, and as doctors swarmed in, ushering us all to our feet, he shook his head and sobbed harder than ever.

"Ryan, Ryan no please -" his hands trembled, and I slipped an arm around his waist in case he lost it. "Do something, somebody do something - he can't be dead - he can't leave me - he wouldn't do that - please -"

"Bren-"

"No!" He screamed, trying to get out of my hold. "You said the chemo was working, you said he was getting better, you fucking piece of shit liars how could you -"

"Brendon, honey," Ryan's mom was there in an instant, taking his hands, tears rolling slowly down her face. "I'm sorry...he - he stopped having treatment a few months ago. He said there was no point, not if it wasn't working. And it wasn't. He was just getting worse."

The color drained from Brendon's face, and all he could do was stand there, stunned, as Ryan's body was wheeled from the room.

"No..." He said quietly, his voice wobbling, his lower lip trembling. "No, that's not...no...he wouldn't - he wouldn't do that to me - why didn't he tell me, I - did he not trust me?!" He was borderline hysterical, struggling to breathe with tears streaming down his face. "It's not fair! It's not fucking fair! He never did anything wrong, he wasn't a bad guy, he - he - he didn't deserve this!"

He then stormed out, leaving me with Ryan's parents, who shuffled out also, Mrs Ross weeping quietly into her husband's shoulder. I set off to find Brendon, who would undoubtedly end up doing something stupid.

As I hurried through the corridors, my phone rang from its location in my back pocket, and I jumped slightly, having forgotten it was there. I pulled it out, my heart leaping when I saw it was Gerard, and I answered the call, trying not to break down in the middle of the hospital.

"Gerard!" I choked out, making a beeline for the exit.

"Baby where are you? I got home and the house was trashed and you weren't there and there was some letter about you going to Jersey and -"

"Gerard..." I felt the first few tears slip from my eyes as I reached the doors, my hands shaking. "I'm at the hospital, where - where are you?"

"On my way."

He hung up, and I sank onto a nearby bench, wrapping my arms around myself. It was cold, for summer, and the sun was just beginning to set. I seemed to have given up searching for Brendon, so I called him, to no avail. Maybe he just wanted to be alone.

I'd lost one of my closest friends. It didn't seem to register. Of course, there was this ache in my chest and I really, really wanted to cry, but I couldn't get past feeble weeping.

From the moment he'd told me he was going to die, I'd kind of been expecting it...but not so soon. Not as soon as this.

"Frankie!" My head shot up, and I saw Gerard, rushing towards me.

I got to my feet and threw myself in his arms, ending up sobbing helplessly against his shoulder. As soon as he was holding me, it felt like something had crashed into me and that was it. I felt winded. Suddenly the tears came and I couldn't stop them.

"What's happened? Are you okay? Is it -?" he cut himself off, and I knew who he meant.

"He's gone...he's gone...Gee, he's gone..."

"Oh my God..." He held me tighter, stroking my hair as I cried. "Oh my God, oh my...oh, baby...I'm so sorry..."

We stayed like that for several minutes, the whine of sirens and the murmur of voices vaguely registering in the back of my mind. He smelled of cigarettes and coffee and booze but I was too upset to care or question why I could smell booze on him. Brendon was right; it wasn't fair.