Empty Gold - {ryden}

17. Celebration

17. celebration (noun) - the action of marking one's pleasure at an important event or occasion by engaging in enjoyable, typically social, activity.

Trigger Warnings
//
Mention of death/dying
Funeral

"This doesn't feel real," Ryan whispered as he fixed his tie in the mirror of Brendon's bedroom, his broken hand making it incredibly difficult. "I already went to one funeral for this same damn thing, I thought I'd never have to do it again. How many times in my life am I going to mourn the loss of a friend, and—" He sighed, frustrated. "Brendon, could you help me, please?"

Brendon rushes from the bathroom to where Ryan was standing, hurriedly fastening his cufflinks before reaching the younger male. "Hush, baby," he whispered gently. "No need for frustrations." He smiled softly, taking Ryan's tie in his hands and looping it together to form the knot. "Just think," he said sincerely, tightening the knot to finish, "today may be hard, but you'll never have to repeat this day ever again. Once it's over, it's over."

Ryan smiled a watery smile as Brendon presses his lips softly to his forehead. "I love you, Bren."

Brendon smiled wider. "I love you so much, Ryan Ross. More than I'll ever be able to tell you."

Ryan smiled despite the sinking feeling in his chest for what the rest of the day was to bring. He woke up early that morning, much earlier than needed, and spent the morning dragging out his preparation process for Patty's funeral. He didn't want to believe it was real, so the more he drug it out, the less real it felt. "I'm scared, Bren," he whispered, still looking in the mirror.

"What are you afraid of?" Brendon's tone was genuinely curious, something Ryan appreciated about him.

"I feel like his family blames me for what happened," he admitted quietly, tie wringing in his hands. "I don't know if I can face them."

Brendon sighed understandingly. "Patty's family - especially his sister - are a lot like him," he says as he walks up behind Ryan and puts his hands on his shoulders. "They do not lay the blame anywhere near you. All you were doing was riding in the taxi with him. They know it isn't your fault."

Ryan nodded, turning his head to look at the alarm on Brendon's beside table. "We should go," he said softly. "We don't want to be late."

Brendon nodded, taking Ryan's hand in his as he grabbed his keys off of his dresser. "I'll be by your side the whole time, my love."

Ryan smiled. "I know."

* * *

Ryan has been to a few funerals, but not very many. His grandmother died when he was a boy, so he didn't remember much of that funeral, except that it was the only time he'd ever seen his dad cry. A work friend of his mom's died a few years later, and then, of course, there was Adam's funeral. He knew from experience and from instinct that funerals were supposed to be sad, and full of tears and wails and laments from the family and friends of the deceased.

This, however, felt more like a birthday party than a funeral.

A group of people with semi-pale skin and pale blue eyes stood in the greeting area of the funeral home, helping Ryan to deduce that they had to be Patty's family. A woman about Ryan's age - perhaps a few years older - standing off to the side of who appeared to be Patty's parents had to be his sister. This girl was one of those naturally beautiful women, with shoulder length blonde hair and a smile that almost identically mimicked her brother's. She had a petite nose and crystal blue eyes that didn't depict sadness, but more.. comfortable nostalgia.