Empty Gold - {ryden}

16. Remorse

16. remorse (noun) - deep regret or guilt for a wrong committed

Trigger Warnings

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Character death
Survivors guilt
Hospital / ER talk
Mentions of wounds / blood / body damage

Please stay safe.

This entire moment felt all too familiar. Waking up to the rhythmic and haunting beeping of an EKG machine was something Ryan hoped would never have to happen to him again. The lighting already seemed too bright behind his eyelids, and his head seemed like it was being crushed under a hydraulic press. His entire body felt sore and paralyzed, and his throat felt like it was being constricted by a noose. Needless to say, he didn't like waking up this way.

After a few minutes, he forced his eyes open slowly in order to check his surroundings. Under the florescent glow of the overhead lights, he could see he was in a hospital bed, a few tubes and wires connecting from his arms and fingers to bags and machines behind and beside him. He looked down at his hands and started tearing up seeing his right hand covered in a wrap with rods and pins sticking out of it.

His hand was broken. The hand he tattoos with was broken. Shattered, from the looks of it.

Tears slipped down his face just as the door to his room was opening and he saw someone slinking in and quietly and turning around to close the door gently. When they turned to face him, his felt his tears coming stronger upon seeing Brendon's drained face. He looked like he'd barely slept, probably barely even eaten. When their eyes met, Brendon froze.

They looked at each other for moment, Ryan's negative thoughts racing as more tears gathered in his eyes as he let out a soft whimper. Brendon immediately rushed to the side of his bed and took his non-bandaged hand in his, tears filling his eyes as well.

The pair sat in silence, nothing but soft sobs and sniffles coming from them every so often. Eventually, Brendon picked up his head and kissed Ryan's knuckles. "I'm so fucking glad you're okay," he said softly.

Ryan let out another soft sob. "My hand is broken," he whimpers. "My hand is completely broken. I can't tattoo, I can't-- The only thing I've ever loved doing and I can't do it anymore, I--" He stopped short. taking in a sharp gasp. "Patty," he whispered out. "Brendon. Brendon, where's Patty?"

Brendon didn't respond. All he did was dip his head to hide the flow of oncoming tears from Ryan.

"Brendon," Ryan repeated, his voice sounding broken, "please tell me he's okay. Please, Brendon, I need to hear that he's okay."

Brendon just took in a sharp breath and looked up into Ryan's eyes, shaking his head softly.

Ryan's whole world stopped moving. Tears were flowing down his face in rapid streams before he could stop them, and he felt his chest and throat constrict more than they already felt like they were. Patty was gone. His best friend, the person who had been kinder than anyone around him since he'd moved to LA was dead.

"This is a-all my f-fault," Ryan sobbed out. "First Adam, and n-now Patty. I killed them, fuck, this is all my fault."

Brendon immediately reached over and took Ryan's face in his hands. "Listen to me," he said softly, "this is not your fault. You didn't kill anyone, Ryan Ross. You made a bad decision that had consequences, it happens all the time, and it is not your fault. You didn't kill Patty, the person who hit you did, and if they didn't die in that crash, then I swear to God they will get what's coming to them. This is not on you. You didn't do this. You cannot hold yourself accountable for something you had no control over."