turps | The Keys to Unlock You 3/3

"Ryan? Ryan!"

Ryan tries to open his eyes. He's tired. So very tired.

"Ryan!"

Something touching his face. The sound of a zip. Cold against his chest.

"Fuck. Ryan. You're a moron, why didn't you say?"

Ryan gasps, eyes opening as something touches his side. Pain. Heat. Melting the cold.

"The ambulance is coming, you idiot." Spencer. Kneeling over Ryan, looking scared. Ryan tries to reach out for him, his fingers flutter against the ground.

"Sry."

"You'd better be." Spencer takes hold of Ryan's hand, holds on. Ryan closes his eyes.

Hands on his body. Ryan tries to pull away but can't. Leather straps around his hands, a knife at his side. He yells, tries to pull away. Hears Spencer.

"Let me through, now."

Has to be a dream because Spencer's not here. He's at home, far far away. Ryan struggles.

"Get out of my way!"

"Spencer." Ryan's throat is dry and everything's moving, twisting, slipping through his grasp. Then Spencer, smiling as he bends over Ryan, taking hold of his hand.

"I've got you."

Bright lights. The sound of voices, Ryan opens his eyes. He's floating, the world slowing slowing slow.

People at his side. Glinting lights. Twisting tubes.

"Ryan. Ryan, look at me."

Ryan's eyes are weighted, he looks to the side. Sure he'd seen Spencer, but he's gone. Ryan's lost him.

"Spencer...."

"He's outside." Someone leaning in close, smelling of flowers not blood. Hand gentle on his shoulder. "You can see him soon."

Ryan sleeps.

~*~*~*~

Spencer wakes up with his neck in a crick and Ryan's torn shirt still held in his hand. His eyes feel gritty and he rubs them as he sits forward, checking on Ryan. He's lying on his back, the blankets pulled up over his chest, hiding the dressings that cover his right side. There's a drip going into Ryan's hand, a cannula under his nose and he looks pale, his hair lank and dirty against the white of the pillow case. Spencer shuffles his chair forward, so he can keep watch, needing to be close.

"Has he woken up yet?" Brendon asks, walking into the room. He's carrying a tray of coffees and a paper bag which he sets on one of the over-bed tables,

"Not yet," Spencer says, and holds out his hand for a coffee.

"Demanding." Brendon hands over one of the cups, keeping the other for himself. Grabbing a chair, he starts to pull it next to Spencer then stops, looking at the police officer guarding the door. "I should have got him one, hold this."

Spencer takes hold of Brendon's coffee and watches as he opens the bag and takes out a muffin. Wrapping it in a napkin he goes back outside, and grins when the officer takes the muffin with a nod of thanks.

"I'll get Jed a coffee next time," Brendon says, and sits, taking his own drink. Taking a sip, he settles back in his chair. "Think he'll wake up soon? It's been nearly a day."

"Bren, quiet."

Surprised, both Spencer and Brendon stand, looking down at Ryan. He's got his eyes screwed shut and sounds terrible, his voice little more than a croak, but he's moving, talking. Spencer rubs the back of his hand over his eyes. "I'll get you a drink."

There's a jug of water on the bedside table, pouring out quarter of a glass, Spencer slips his hand under Ryan's head, ignoring the way he glares in response.

"I can manage."

"Sure you can," Spencer says, and steadies the glass as Ryan takes a drink. When he's finished, Spencer puts back the glass and uses the edge of his t-shirt to wipe at the water that's spilt down Ryan's chin. "How are you feeling?"

"Like I've had a knife stuck in my side, was shot, then ran through a forest." Tugging one-handed at the blankets, Ryan pulls them up further and Spencer can almost see his mental barriers go back up at the same time. "Did we find Mikey?"

"You did," Spencer says, and he pulls his chair closer to the bed. "He's in the ICU right now."

Ryan's eyes are closing, he yawns, says, "Good, it wasn't my message to tell."

"You should tell Jon Ryan woke up," Brendon says, when it's apparent Ryan's fallen asleep. He takes another muffin out of the bag and starts pulling off the paper, carefully peeling it down.

"I'll call him," Spencer says, but Brendon shakes his head.

"It'll be better in person. You can see Clover then, and take a shower."

Spencer gives Brendon a pointed look. "Are you saying I smell?"

"Dude, you reek." Brendon pops a chunk of muffin in his mouth and the thing is, he's right. Spencer can't remember the last time he took a shower and his clothes feel stiff with dirt. "You'll watch Ryan?"

"I won't take my eyes off him," Brendon promises. Careful of the coffees, he pulls Spencer into a hug, holding tight. "He'll be fine and I'll call if he wakes up again."

"You'd better." Reluctantly ending the hug, Spencer backs toward the door, always watching Ryan, and Brendon, who's leaning forward, already talking softly as he takes Ryan's hand.

A quick smile at Jed and Spencer hurries down the corridor, intent on going home and getting showered as fast as he can. When he reaches the elevators he presses the button for down, then steps back, waiting for it to arrive. Spencer's the only one in the area and he's glad. He's too tired for small talk and knows he must look terrible, something that's proven when the elevator arrives and Spencer steps inside and is faced with a mirror. One that shows the beginnings of a straggly beard and bags under his eyes. Turning away, Spencer stares at the doors, and finally they begin to move, his stomach dropping as they go down.

It's on floor four that Spencer reaches out and presses the button for three. It's the floor for the ICU and while he hadn't intended to stop, Spencer knows that he has to. He hasn't seen any of the others since the day before, those chaotic, painful, then slow hours while they had to wait, desperate for any news. It was Jon that saw Ray later, finding out that Mikey was hanging on, but there's been nothing since, and Spencer needs to know.

Stepping out of the elevator, Spencer looks around, and it doesn't take long to find Gerard, Frank, Bob and Ray. They're all gathered in the waiting room, the low table covered in white plastic cups and if Spencer thought he looked bad, he's got nothing on them.

"Hey," Spencer says, and he's unsure if he should go in, worried that he's intruding, but Ray smiles and when Gerard looks up he does the same, even if it is forced.

"Come sit, how's Ryan?" Gerard asks, and Spencer takes a seat on the couch, sitting between Frank and Bob.

"He'll have a hell of a scar but he'll be fine." Spencer remembers the bloody gash he found when he unzipped Ryan's coat, but as bad as that was, Mikey looked worse. "Mikey?"

Gerard's shredding a plastic cup, white strips are scattered on his knee and he picks at another, pulling it in half. "They're letting me see him once an hour. He looks half-dead."

"But he's not," Frank says. "They're pumping him full of antibiotics and he'll be fine. And when he is I'm going to find the bastard that did it and carve out his heart."

"When they find him I'll join you," Spencer says, and the anger he's keeping pressed down threatens to spill over as he imagines his own form of revenge.

"I'll kill him first," Gerard says simply. Spencer believes it.

~*~*~*~

Two days in hospital and Ryan's allowed out of bed, but he doesn't go far, a walk loses its appeal when you're wearing a hospital gown and have to shuffle along towing a drip stand. It especially does if you're followed by a guard. It's the last Ryan hates the most, having the officers there is a reminder that the man -- Joshua Arkman -- is still out there somewhere, and knowing that is terrifying.

"I could wash your hair today," Spencer says suddenly, and his expression is carefully blank, like this is something he offers everyday.

Ryan reaches up and touches his hair. It's still dirty and the strands feel greasy under his fingers, but the worst is the smell. Each time Ryan moves he's reminded of back there, dirt and blood and he looks at Spencer, says, "Please."

It takes Spencer all of a minute to gather a bowl of warm water and Ryan suspects he's arranged this in advance. As Spencer sets his supplies on the over-bed table Ryan eases himself to the side of the bed. Doing so makes the pain in his side flair, but in a dull way, dampened by drugs. When he's as comfortable as he's going to get, Ryan reaches for a pillow, placing it between his arm and side.

"I think, if you could lean your head forward, that'll work." Spencer unfolds the towel with a snap of his wrist and tucks it around Ryan's neck. "I'll pour the water over, you sit still."

Ryan doesn't point out that he’s not capable of doing anything else, just presses against the pillow as he leans so his head is over the bowl of water. It's not an easy position to hold but the effort is worth it when Spencer pours the first cup of water. It soaks Ryan's hair and trickles down his cheeks, taking the dirt with it so the water in the bowl turns brown.

"Okay?" Spencer asks, and he pours over another cupful before swapping the cup for shampoo. "Brendon bought this especially; he said everyone should smell like bubblegum."

Through his dripping hair, Ryan looks at the bottle, which is bright pink and shaped like a dinosaur. "He's bought me kid's shampoo?"

"He bought you dinosaur kid's shampoo," Spencer says, like it's an important distinction, and he squeezes a blob on his hand. "He says it's his favorite."

Enjoying the feel of Spencer's fingers rubbing against his scalp, Ryan breathes in deeply, smelling bubblegum and not dirt. Ryan decides it's his favorite too.

"I've got leave-in conditioner, we thought it would be easier." Spencer runs his palm over Ryan's head making clean water splash into the bowl. "Mom said it's the best kind."

Ryan looks through the wet strands of his hair. "You asked your mom for conditioner advice?"

"Not especially for that," Spencer says, and squeezes a blob of conditioner onto his hands and starts to work it in, like this is something he does every day. "She's been calling every night to see how you are, I asked then."

"You've told her I'm okay." Ryan hopes so because he doesn't want Ginger to worry.

"Sure, I told her you're doing cartwheels and dancing a jig." Spencer pulls at a strand of Ryan's hair and Ryan tries to glare, giving up when all he ends up doing is scowling at the bowl of water. "She said she'll call you soon."

"She doesn't have to," Ryan says, and he can't help hoping she won't, there's only so many times he can say that he's fine.

"Hmmm," Spencer says, and steps back, producing another towel which he wraps around Ryan's head. "I saw Gerard earlier."

It's a jump in conversation Ryan didn't expect, but it's one he welcomes because no one's been talking about Mikey, it's like they're afraid his name will prompt memories Ryan needs to forget. Which is impossible, because Ryan never forgets, the memories are always there, it's just a case of how deep they're buried at each moment of time. "How's Mikey doing?"

"Better." Spencer moves the table, pushing it to the side of the room and despite Ryan's protests helps him get settled back against the pillows, then tucks in the covers. "He's sleeping a lot, which is probably just as well."

Ryan isn't so sure, while the memories are bad in the daytime they're worse at night, when the nightmares take hold and haunt your dreams. Imagining Mikey lying helpless in bed makes Ryan's stomach twist, and he knows what he has to do. "I want to see him."

"You can't even walk up the corridor right now," Spencer says bluntly and he picks up the bowl and heads into the bathroom. "Wait a few days, until you're stronger."

Which isn't going to happen. Gritting his teeth Ryan pulls back the covers and moves back to the side of the bed, sliding his legs to the floor he braces his hand against the bed frame and stands, preparing to make for the door. Two steps and Spencer's back in the room, dropping the empty bowl on the table as he moves to intercept.

"What the hell are you doing?"

"I'm going to see Mikey." Ryan's got one hand on his drip stand and he pulls it with him as he walks, he's wearing underwear so doesn't care that his gown is gaping at the back and his hair may be damp but that doesn't matter. He's got somewhere to go and no one's going to stop him. Not even Spencer.

"You're going to get past the guard, off the floor and down to the ICU," Spencer says, and Ryan nods and takes a step to the side, maybe Spencer thinks he won't make it, but Ryan's going to give it a try. "You're an idiot."

"Maybe." Ryan shrugs one shoulder. "I'm still going."

"I'm telling you, an idiot." Spencer takes hold of Ryan's arm, stopping him from moving further. "Look, just sit down and I'll work something out."

Ryan considers, he would have got to Mikey somehow, but having Spencer on his side is always a plus. He steps backwards and sits down, tugging at his gown so it covers his knees. "You're taking me there?"

"Seeing you collapse bleeding once is enough," Spencer says, and Ryan realizes Spencer's holding his own bad memories, something that makes him feel guilty for pushing, especially when Spencer's looking so pinched.

"I'm sorry," Ryan says softly, and he pats the bed to his side. "Come sit."

"I thought you wanted to see Mikey?" Spencer says, but he's already moving, sitting at Ryan's side, so close they're touching.

Ryan rests his head on Spencer's shoulder, says, "I can wait."

~*~*~*~

It takes careful maneuvering to get out of the small bathroom and back into his room. Edging out of the door, Ryan pulls the drip stand behind him and jumps when he sees someone standing next to his bed.

"Sorry, Ryan." Rebecca, one of the nurses steps to the side, close enough to help if Ryan needs it, but allowing him to get back in bed on his own. When he's settled, she pulls up a chair and Ryan feels anxious, like he's about to be told something bad. He wishes Spencer was here, Brendon or Jon, but Ryan's sent them all home, insisting he'll be okay for a few hours -- he's regretting that now.

"It's okay, it's nothing bad," Rebecca says, and glances toward the door. "Mikey Way's well enough to be moved and it was suggested he share your room, that way you can have one guard. But I wanted to run it past you first. If you don't want him here...."

"No. I'll share." Ryan still hasn't seen Mikey and this is the perfect way to find out how he is. "Is he okay?"

"I can't share other patients information," Rebecca says, and Ryan knows that, he does, but Mikey's his friend and no one will tell him specific information. All he wants to know is if he's okay. "But, in a general sense, if people are moved to a regular room they're getting better."

"Thank you," Ryan says, and while something eases inside, he knows he won't be fully reassured until he actually sees Mikey himself. "Do you know when he's coming?"

"I'm not sure, it takes a while to get things sorted." Rebecca stands and smiles at Ryan. "I'll go tell them it's okay. You should try and nap while you can."

Ryan nods. That's something he can do, or try to do anyway. He pulls the blankets up to his chin and closes his eyes -- maybe this time the dreams will stay away.

~*~*~*~

Spencer only left the hospital because Jon and Brendon turned traitor, taking Ryan's side as he sat and insisted Spencer go home. Even then he only stayed long enough to shower, get changed and eat a quick meal. Now, three hours after they left, Spencer's heading toward Ryan's room, hurrying when he sees Gerard, Frank, Ray and Bob standing outside the door, the police guard a few steps away. Afraid something's gone wrong, Spencer's almost running, his shoes squeaking against the floor as he comes to a stop.

"Spencer, hi." Gerard looks better now, still appearing tired, but nowhere near as bad as before. He indicates the room and the shut door. "Mikey's moving in, they're getting him settled."

"Oh," Spencer says. He hasn't expected this, but he should have because it makes sense, especially as the police are so adamant Ryan and Mikey need protection until Arkman is found. Which makes Spencer feel bitter, because if the police had done their jobs they wouldn't need it at all.

"How's he doing?" Brendon asks, and they all back up against the wall as porters push a bed along the corridor. The man lying on it looks old, an oxygen mask on his face and drips going into each arm. They're followed by a woman, her eyes reddened, a bulging plastic bag held against her chest, and Spencer hates this place. It reminds him of death and pain and each time he sees Ryan, looking so pale still, moving so carefully to achieve the simplest thing, he wants to shout and scream. That it isn't fair, that Ryan shouldn't be suffering like this.

"You okay?" Gerard asks quietly, and Spencer schools his expression before looking his way.

"I'm fine, just tired. I stayed here last night."

"Me too." Gerard stretches and then slumps back against the wall. "The ICU couches suck to sleep on."

"I think my back's curved into the shape of a chair," Spencer says, and he wonders if Gerard's having the same issues in leaving Mikey alone. He's about to ask when the door is opened and a group of nurses step outside.

"He's all settled." One of them looks at Gerard and gives him a smile. "Take care of him."

Already half in the room, Gerard looks out, says, "I will."

When Spencer goes inside it takes a while to actually see Mikey. His side of the room is full of stuff. There's a huge bunch of balloons in the corner, at least twenty of them, most of them black. The window sill is full of vases of flowers and there's a full fruit bowl on the table, as well as a stack of cards inches thick. There's also plushies, most of them unicorns, including one balanced on the end of Mikey's bed.

"Sweet unicorn," Brendon says, and picks it up, examining it's bright-red eyes and sharp fangs. "Or is it a zombiecorn?"

"A unibie, maybe," Mikey says. It's the first time Spencer's seen him since the day of the rescue, and on first look he doesn't look much better. The cut along his jaw is stitched and he's a mess of bruises, on his face and neck and over his shoulder and arm, where the stitches stand out in a long line, dark and nasty looking.

"Fucking gruesome, yeah?" Frank says, and Spencer flushes at being caught staring. Frank hunches his shoulders, looking unconcerned. "I stared too, the first time. Gerard's learning wound care for when Mikey comes home, but there's so fucking many. I tried, but it was hurting him and I had to stop. Some tough guy."

"There's nothing wrong about not wanting to hurt your friends." Spencer looks back at Ryan, who's propped up on a load of pillows and watching Mikey like he's the only thing in the room. "The first time they changed Ryan's dressings I nearly threw up."

Frank flexes his fingers. "I let Mikey hold my hand when they changed his, I thought he'd broken my hand by the end. I'd let him if it helped."

Spencer understands that compulsion, the need to do anything to help ease Ryan's pain. Except, the pain that's the worst can't be helped, not by Spencer or any painkiller, especially as it's something Ryan's trying to hide. It makes Spencer feel helpless, and all he wants to do is get Ryan home and hidden from the world. "I'm going to," Spencer indicates Ryan, and Frank nods.

"I need to go on a coffee run, Gee's running on five cups an hour right now. You want anything?"

"I'm good," Spencer says, and isn't surprised when Brendon goes with Frank, beaming at him as they leave the room. "I think Brendon's got a crush."

Ryan turns to Spencer, looking surprised. "I thought he only met him when I went missing."

Spencer remembers hours of waiting and the seemingly never-ending search, it's something that's forged a strong bond despite the relatively short time. "He did, but it feels like more."

"They match height-wise, anyway," Ryan says, and already his attention is back on Mikey, watching as Gerard arranges pillows and straightens Mikey's blanket. "He looks better."

"I suppose, Spencer says, and Ryan turns to him.

"You didn't see him Spencer, when he was in that room and that fucking freak was hurting him and then after, when we ran. I thought, I thought he was dying and oh god, I left him and I though he was dying." Ryan's voice is rising and he's got his hands clenched against the covers. Worried, Spencer sits on the bed, turned so he can directly look at Ryan.

"Mikey's okay, you can see him. He's fine."

"I shouldn't have left him," Ryan says, his body so tight that Spencer knows it has to hurt.

"Oh my god, no you don't." Spencer looks up and sees Mikey's trying to sit, but Gerard's holding him in place. He looks at Spencer, says, "Your side or mine?"

For a moment Spencer's unsure what he means then he sees Jon and Ray pulling the door closed and Bob standing in front of the window. When the room is concealed as much as it can be Spencer slips off the bed and releases the brakes on the wheels. It'll be easier to take Ryan to Mikey because he's connected to less machines. "Hold on," Spencer says, and together with Ray he pushes Ryan's bed across the room, Jon steering from the front. It takes a while to get it turned around, the bed is big and heavy and Gerard has to rearrange a stack of plushie unicorns, but eventually the beds are side by side.

Mikey holds out his hand. Ryan reaches out and entwines their fingers. He holds on.

~*~*~*~

The beds are moved back in place late in the afternoon. Ryan's expecting some comment but he's wheeled back to the correct place without a word, and when Rebecca checks his wounds she asks Spencer to help, supervising as he washes his hands and opens the sterile dressing pack.

"You remember what to do," Rebecca asks, and Spencer nods as he sets out the bowl and cotton balls. While he's doing that, Rebecca pulls aside Ryan's gown, exposing the dressings that go from his hip over his ribs. "Are you okay with Spencer doing this?"

Ryan hates seeing his stitches and he hates that Spencer has to see them too, but he trusts him totally, says, "Yeah."

Spencer looks nervous, but his hands are sure as he soaks the cotton balls in sterile water and then carefully cleans over the stitches, taking his time so he's sure each one is done. Despite his gentle touch, Ryan winces each time, he tries to hold it in but he can't help it, especially when Spencer hits the parts that are especially deep and slightly infected.

"Sorry." Spencer's biting at his bottom lip but he never stops cleaning, because if he can't do this Ryan won't be able to eventually go home. When he's reaches the last stitch, Spencer drops the cotton ball in the bowl and peels the backing off a huge dressing which he positions on Ryan's side and smoothes on. "Done."

"Thanks," Ryan says, and relaxes against his pillows, trying to ignore how his side is thumping with fresh pain.

"Doctor says you can go from IV to oral antibiotics now," Rebecca says. She's busy gathering up the used dressing pack and crumples it up, setting it on the table. "I can take that out."

"Good." Having to walk with a drip is something Ryan hopes to never do again, and he's thrilled it's about to be taken away. Holding out his hand at Rebecca’s urging, he steels himself for the cannula to be removed, but all he feels is a weird sensation, and then Rebecca's placing a cotton ball on the back of his hand, covering it with a strip of tape.

"Leave that for a while, and no running marathons now you're more mobile."

"He won't," Spencer says, looking stern. Ryan says nothing, it's not like he's going to disagree.

"Are you doing Mikey now?" Ryan asks, looking across the room when Rebecca pulls back the curtains around his bed, showing that Mikey is dozing and Gerard reading some comic that he keeps dropping as he falls asleep. Rebecca looks over too as she gathers up the trash and drops the needle in a sharps container.

"I am." She smiles and fills out Ryan's chart, hooking it over the bottom of the bed. "Remember what I said, no running."

"Promise," Ryan says, already half-asleep.

~*~*~*~

When Ryan opens his eyes, Spencer's curled up in the chair, his legs hanging over the arms and his chin on his chest. He looks anything but comfortable but Ryan doesn't wake him, it's not as if Spencer will go home. Looking around he realizes it's dark now, the only illumination the dim strip lights in the middle of the room, but it's enough to see Mikey's awake, sitting upright as much as he can, his glasses glinting when he moves.

Ryan can't see Gerard at first, but eventually sees that he's in the match to Spencer's chair, but instead of curling up in it he's lying forward, his chest against the bed, his hand over Mikey's knee, as if he's afraid he'll be spirited away. Despite that Mikey keeps looking around, everything about him screaming fear. Pushing back the sheets, Ryan slides out of bed. The floor is cold against his bare feet and he pads across the room, says softly, "Mikey, hey," before he gets too close.

"Ryan, you should be asleep," Mikey says, his words slightly slurred.

"I've slept all evening." It's chilly without his blankets and Ryan shivers as he moves to Mikey's side, carefully of the monitors and the tubes that lead to Mikey's arm. Hand against his side, Ryan props himself against the bed and looks at Gerard.

"He won't wake up," Mikey says, and Ryan can see the effort he's putting in to stay still. "He's been awake for days now. I told him to go home but he won't." Mikey's silent for a moment, then adds. "It's selfish, but I'm glad that he doesn't."

Ryan looks across the room. "Spencer's the same. I tell him to go but he keeps coming back." He turns to Mikey then, taking in how tired he looks, so obviously hurting despite the drugs being pumped into his body. It's the first time they've talked alone since Ryan left Mikey behind, and as he looks at him then is overlain by now, so he's seeing Mikey here, but also back there, deathly pale and still, watching as Ryan ran away. "I'm sorry."

"For what?" Mikey sounds surprised and Ryan doesn't understand, because he left Mikey behind, he could have died. "And if you mean about leaving me, you had to. I wouldn't be here if you hadn't."

Ryan doesn't see it that way, no matter what Mikey says, what everyone says, he knows he did wrong. "I shouldn't have left you."

"Bullshit," Mikey says, and even if his word are careful on account of his jaw, Ryan can hear the steel behind them. "Leave no one behind is valid in theory, but in practice it's bullshit. You did what you had to, you got me out of there and I'm alive, we both are."

"But what if you'd died?" It's Ryan's worst fear, the one that's haunting his dreams when he leads them back to Mikey, and find him lying lifeless, his body cold, and Ryan knows that it's his fault, accepting the blame as dream Gerard screams out his rage."

"I didn't," Mikey says, looking down at Gerard, then admits, "I wanted to, back at the cabin when I was alone and that bastard kept coming each day, then you came and you were so determined to get out. You kept me fighting."

"I don't know how." Ryan wraps his arms around his body, his fingers aching in remembrance of clawing at the door. "I was so afraid. There's nothing brave about that."

"There is if you keep going despite that," Mikey says, and he's got one hand against Ryan's leg, the other just touching Gerard's hair. "I'm afraid now, so fucking scared."

Ryan covers his hand with his own, says, "I know."

~*~*~*~

They get news about Arkman on the day Ryan's going home. After a week in this room he's desperate to leave, and he sits on the side of his bed, surrounded by the gifts sent by friends. At first Ryan tried to help, but Spencer's packing the bags, choosing items on some system Ryan doesn't pretend to understand. It's easier to let him do his own thing and Ryan's holding a stuffed dog, a gift from Jon, when Barratt walks into the room. Her heels click against the floor and she's holding a file under one arm. Ryan tightens his hold on the dog, he doesn't like how she's looking at him, or the way she frowns as she sees Mikey.

He's sitting on top of the covers today, his casted foot resting on a pile of pillows and a comic resting on his lap, turning the pages one-handed as Frank leans forward and reads along, making comments to try and get Mikey to laugh -- sometimes he even succeeds.

"Gentlemen." Barratt steps further into the room and looks between Mikey and Ryan. "We've news about Arkman, Michael, I've pictures I need you to look at."

"Mikey, his name is Mikey," Frank says, and looks at Mikey. "Do you want me to call Gerard?"

Mikey looks unsure, but eventually he shakes his head. "He only went home a few hours ago, let him sleep. I'll be okay, and you're staying, right?"

"Let her try and get me out of the room." Frank scowls and pulls his chair even closer to Mikey, taking guard at his side.

Coolly, Barratt steps closer. "I've no objections to you staying." She looks at the file, and takes out a sheaf of pictures, Spencer can just see part of the first one, red against white and already he knows he doesn't want to see more. "Two days ago we received a tip-off about someone offering what they called 'art of life' to the underground art community. Investigating further we discovered it was Arkman and gained examples of his work." She steps closer to Mikey, and Ryan stands and follows, moving so he's standing at Mikey's free side. "Mikey, we need you to look at these, see if you recognize the person you were held with before Ryan."

Mikey blanches white, but he indicates that she should go ahead. Barratt shows the first picture, placing it on Mikey's lap. He shakes his head, says, "No."

Barratt brings out another, and Spencer wants to walk away, knowing he'll remember these images forever, the crop of a male torso and the deep cuts that are slashed in the skin -- obscene art created through blood and flesh. Mikey shakes his head once again.

Barratt keeps displaying the pictures, is at the fourth when Mikey stills then points at a curved cut that winds under someone's ribs. "That one, I recognize that cut, it was the third night and it bled like a bitch. It was the only time I saw Marcus cry."

"You're sure?" Barratt asks and Frank bristles, picking up the picture.

"He said he recognized it, what else do you need?" Handing it back Frank stands, looking furious. "Why aren't you out there arresting him instead of hassling Mikey?"

"We needed additional identification." Barratt puts the pictures back together and slides them in the file. When she looks up she's all business, but Spencer catches the faintest glimpse of exhaustion before she reshores her professional calm. "You're lucky, apparently Arkman decided to run rather than pursue when you escaped. He's under surveillance in Belgium right now."

"Lucky, you think we were lucky?" Ryan's voice is level and carefully controlled, only the set of his shoulders giving away how furious he really is. "We fought to get out of there and ran for our lives and you think we were lucky?" Grabbing the hem of his t-shirt, Ryan lifts it up, showing the dressing across his side. "Was I lucky to get this, or Mikey lucky because he's got multiple scars and a fucked ankle?"

"I didn't mean it that way," Barratt says. "My apologies." File held tightly she looks at Mikey, at Ryan. "As Arkman is out of the country we'll be discontinuing the guards, you're perfectly safe."

"What's the matter," Spencer bites out. "Is it costing too much?" and has a flash of vindication when Barratt looks away, because this is insane. They can't take away the guards, not when Arkman is still out there. Even if he is in another country it's too close. Until he's locked away Ryan won't be safe at all.

"We're watching him, he won't get near them," Barratt says. "We'll be in touch."

"And what are we supposed to do until then?" Ryan asks, as closed off as Spencer's seen him all week.

"Get on with your lives, any way you can."

She leaves and Spencer moves close to Ryan, touches his arm and says, "You okay?"

Ryan replies. "Take me home. Please."

~*~*~*~

Being at home should be better, but it's not at all. Ryan wanders the rooms, running his fingers over the back of the couch, his books, the TV with the DVDs piled close on the floor. They're all things that he knows, but they feel wrong, like he's stepped back into a place that's not his; not anymore. He tries to work out why but his head is a mess, potential explanations tangled with memories that hurt.

He'd thought when Arkman was caught things would get better, but they haven't. On a logical level Ryan's satisfied that he's been captured and shipped back to America for trial, but emotionally the man who hurt him so badly remains free. He always will when he haunts Ryan's life and manipulates his dreams.

"Do you want a drink?" Brendon's in the kitchen, back to Ryan as he looks through the cupboards. "We've got herbal tea, or I guess you can have coffee."

Ryan's not thirsty, but he goes to the kitchen, sitting when Brendon pulls out one of the chairs. "I could drink some hot chocolate."

Brendon smiles. "I can do that." He stretches up on tip-toes, collecting cocoa powder and then milk which he measures in two mugs before pouring into a pan. Each movement is controlled and Ryan can see how Brendon's reigning himself in, the trapped energy bleeding out as he turns on the heat and stirs in the powder. As he does that, he sways his hips, circling them in time with his stirring, and for the first time today Ryan feels like smiling, knowing that any moment Brendon's about to sing.

"Snow is falling, all around me, everybody having fun." Ryan can't help laughing, and Brendon turns to him, already smiling.

"What?"

"It's summer and you're singing Christmas songs," Ryan says, and Brendon looks back at him, his smile smaller, but obviously happy.

"It's the hot chocolate, it reminds me of Christmas." Brendon turns and stirs the milk, then looks back at Ryan and adds, his voice quiet. "And you're here. It's like Christmas morning."

Ryan doesn't know what to say, but he knows what to do. He holds out his arms and Brendon comes rushing over, leaning into the hug. They hold on, Brendon's arms tight around Ryan, holding him close and for a few moments at least, Ryan has the sense of safety he'd thought that he'd lost.

~*~*~*~

Spencer sits up in bed, and tries to resist the urge to get up and check on Ryan -- again. It's hard because Ryan feels so far away, even if in reality it's only the next room. Spencer lies down. He's so tired that his head is throbbing and his eyes hurt, like he's blinking over grit. He turns over, cheek against the pillow, it's too hot and he throws it to the ground.

The clock on the bedside table has red numbers that glow in the dark. Twelve thirty. Twelve thirty-seven. Twelve forty-five. Spencer's chest aches and he abruptly sits up, getting out of bed. Ignoring his slippers he pads across the bedroom floor and out into the corridor, light bleeds from downstairs, but before Spencer goes down he checks Ryan's room. It's empty, and even though Spencer knows he has to be downstairs there's a band around Spencer's chest, enough that it's hard to breathe.

He goes downstairs, says, "Ryan? You down here?"

"In here." It's Jon speaking, not Ryan, and Spencer hurries down the last steps and sees that Ryan's sitting in the corner of the couch, a blanket over his lap. Clover's lying on his knee and he's stroking her back, long fingers brushing through glossy fur and Ryan's got his head tilted to the side, like he's listening to her purr. Jon's sitting at the other end of the couch, his legs tucked up and bare toes curled around the edge of the cushion, he's watching some infomercial and the light of the TV flickers over his face.

"Come sit," Jon says, and he looks at Spencer, examining him in a way that Spencer hates because he knows Jon can see everything, including the last clinging tendrils of panic. Jon smiles, soft and understanding. "We're deciding between getting a chop magic or one of those snuggies."

"A snuggie," Ryan looks up from where he's watching Clover, and in this light his eyes are dark sockets and his skin white, like living death and Spencer can feel his neck prickle with realization at how close they came to that reality. Just the thought of life without Ryan is painful, like there's something ripped out from inside and he sits in the space between Ryan and Jon, needing to touch and remind himself Ryan really is there.

Jon looks past Spencer, and pokes at Ryan's knee, making Clover jump up and run away. "I told him snuggies are tacky."

"They're blankets with arms," Ryan says, and he's holding onto his own blanket, pulling it up on his chest as the man on TV eats an apple, demonstrating a zebra print snuggie. "They're genius."

"They're ugly," Spencer says and he wonders if Ryan would prefer a zebra or leopard print pattern. Zebra he thinks and memorizes the product number as he imagines Ryan wearing the snuggie, his skinny wrists sticking out of the arm holes and the swish of material as he wanders around. It makes him smile and Jon shakes his head, reaching for a pen.

"You know Brendon will want one too." Jon looks around for paper but there's none in reach, turning his hand he writes over his arm, the product number and a times four, and Spencer realizes Jon's planning on a matching set.

Spencer sighs. "We'll look ridiculous."

"They're blankets with arms," Ryan says again and Spencer knows he's only half listening to their conversation, seemingly caught in the void between being awake and asleep.

"They're pretty, and practical."

"If you say so," Spencer says and worms his hand under Ryan's blanket, his fingers just touching the edge of the dressing. Spencer had changed it earlier, and he imagines each stitch, the way they pull and make the skin pucker. "You've taken your painkillers and antibiotics?"

"Yeah," Ryan says, even though Spencer was there when he did so. "I couldn't sleep is all." Ryan's eyes are closing and he leans his head against Spencer's shoulder. "I had to stop Jon buying a chop magic. Brendon would lose a finger."

"Lies, Ryan."

Spencer's not surprised when he sees Brendon walking downstairs. He's dragging his blanket behind him and normally he'd squeeze on the couch, but today there's not room, not when Ryan needs space. Brendon heads for the easy chair, then topples to the side when Jon reaches out and pulls him close. "You can squeeze next to me."

Squeeze is the right word, but thankfully Brendon's small, and soon he's half-sitting on Jon's lap, half-lying against the sofa arm. He makes himself comfortable, wiggling, his arm around Jon and pulls up the blanket so it's covering them all, then finally looks at the TV. "Oh, snuggies!"

Spencer has to laugh, quietly, aware that finally, Ryan's asleep.

~*~*~*~

Ryan's room has thick curtains, blue with white stripes, he keeps them closed, sunlight shining through the gap in the middle. It makes his room dark and too warm and he lies on his bed, drowsy as he stares at the ceiling. There's a crack in the corner, dark and jagged. Ryan closes his eyes, it reminds him of the stitches along Mikey's jaw.

Ryan reaches out groping for his phone, he calls Mikey most days, usually early in the morning, after breakfast and before the doctor’s round, and then late at night. They talk about the TV shows Ryan's watching, how Mikey was allowed out of bed for the first time, casual conversations that mask the questions Ryan needs to ask. Is Mikey still scared? Does he close his eyes and think he's about to die? Ryan needs to know, but he worries that Mikey will say no.

The tips of his fingers touch his phone and Ryan pulls it close. He tucks it against his ear and dials the number, surprised when instead of Mikey, Bob answers, says, "Hello."

"Bob?" Dread is coiling in Ryan's stomach and he clenches his fist. "Mikey? Is he okay?"

"He's fine." Ryan hears the sound of footsteps, a door closing and then Bob says, "He's with the doctor. They're letting him out today."

"Already?" It seems too fast for Ryan, and he can't help but worry. "They said he could go? He's not signing himself out?"

"It's doctor sanctioned," Bob says, and he sighs and lowers his voice. "He can't afford a long hospital stay and Gerard's going to be there. He's a surprisingly good nurse."

"Yeah?" Ryan imagines Gerard asking questions, determined to look after Mikey the best he can. It helps a little, and Ryan relaxes, says, "He's staying at Gerard's?"

"Has to, there's no way he'll get to his shithole of an apartment. Plus, Gerard's got a spare room."

"That's good." Ryan turns his head, the sunlight between the curtains has created a wedge of light, he can see dust motes floating to the ground. "Tell him I called."

"I will," Bob says, and ends the call.

~*~*~*~

Mikey calls back the next day. It's late in the morning and Ryan's sitting at the kitchen table, helping Jon make lunch by buttering the bread. Setting the knife aside, he picks up his phone, relieved when he sees Mikey's name. Ryan's been worried, enough that he nearly called, but he remembers how tired he was when he finally got home, so decided to wait, pushing his fears aside.

"Mikey, hey." Ryan snaps off some cheese, popping it into his mouth.

"Sorry I didn't call yesterday." There's a thump and Mikey curses, says, "Fuck, sorry. My foot slipped off the pillow."

Ryan winces. "It slipped?"

"I was trying to pick up the remote." Mikey's talking quietly, and Ryan knows why when he says, "Gee'll kill me. He's not letting me lift a finger."

"Tell me about it." Ryan feels a little guilty, especially when Jon's just there, busy making sandwiches and pouring milk into glasses. He's due into work soon, but won't leave until Spencer comes home. It's reassuring, and he loves that they do it, but Ryan needs to take back some control of his life, before he loses his nerve.

There's a silence, then muffled talking before Mikey comes back on the line. "I got busted. I've been ordered to sit back and do nothing."

"Sounds interesting," Ryan says, and Mikey sighs.

"I've had better times." He sounds down and Ryan tries to think how to help. Except the things he knows Mikey enjoys aren't feasible now, not when walking is an issue and they're both feeling so weak. It means anything has to happen at Gerard's and there's only one thing Ryan can think of to do.

"Want some company? I'll bring pizza and a movie."

"I'd like that," Mikey says, and Ryan imagines he can hear the smile in his voice. "Not too late though, I'm a light-weight at the moment."

"Will five do?" Ryan asks.

Mikey says, "That's perfect."

~*~*~*~

Ryan tells Spencer his plan and inevitably he ends up coming along. They phone for a cab and Ryan's about to go for his wallet when he remembers it was in his pants when he was taken. It's probably lost somewhere and Ryan sags at the thought of arranging new ID, getting bank cards and money. He tries not to think of the things he can't replace, the picture of him and Spencer when they were kids, the one of his mom and his dad.

"I've got this," Spencer says, and he steers Ryan toward the front door. "You've got everything you wanted?"

Ryan pats his pocket and then holds up a small pile of DVDs Teen Wolf, The Outsiders and Shaun of the Dead, movies from their collection he thinks Mikey will enjoy. "Got them."

Spencer pulls out his keys, and opens the front door. He's left a note on the table for Jon and Brendon, and left them voice mails and texts. Ryan had watched him, then, hand against his side, had leaned forward and added his own addition to the note. See you later, love Ryan.

They get into the cab, Spencer waiting as Ryan sits and gets comfortable, he's looking forward to the time he can move without pain or worrying about tearing his stitches, he's looking forward to a lot of things, but mostly he wants to feel himself again. He's tired of being scared.

Before, and everything is divided now, before and after the cabin, Ryan had known about monsters, some lived in his head and some in reality but he knew about both kinds, had battled them for years while living his life. Which is what's throwing him now, because as hard as he tries to forget, Arkman is lingering. Ryan sees him when he closes his eyes and sometimes he imagines he can smell that room, death and hurt crowding close.

"Ryan," Spencer says, sliding so he's sitting in the middle of the seat. His arm is brushing Ryan's and Ryan focuses on that contact as they're driven away from home. The cab is warm, cool air blowing from a vent near the floor, a dreamcatcher hangs from the mirror, swaying as they drive, Ryan wonders about getting one for his room.

"I might buy a dreamcatcher." Ryan doesn't know where to buy them, but he can find out. He'll get the biggest one available and hang it close to his bed, maybe it'll help.

"I'll look online when we get back." Spencer's wearing his sunglasses but he takes them off, hooking them on the neck of his t-shirt. He runs his hand through his hair and looks outside, then back at Ryan. "Will you be mad if I say be careful?"

"No," Ryan says, even though he doesn't know what Spencer actually means, it could be so many things. Don't go out alone. Wear your coat. Don't get in the tub for a bath. Whatever it is Ryan won't get mad, that's something he does know.

"Good." Spencer leans back in the seat, the sun beams through the windows and he squints slightly as he turns his head. "I know you like him, but it's a bad time."

"Oh." Ryan hadn't considered that kind of careful, and maybe he should have, because Spencer was there that first night, when Ryan met Mikey and realized he wanted more. "That's not why I'm going."

"I know," Spencer says. "Just, things should happen for the right reason."

"Nothing's going to happen." That's something Ryan does know, not yet anyway. He's going to spend time with Mikey, watch movies and eat and just maybe, manage to forget for a few hours.

For the rest of the journey they're silent, listening to the music that's playing. It's some kind of instrumental piece full of guitars and drums and Ryan's lost in the beat when they pull to a stop. The driver looks backs, says, "Twelve dollars." Spencer pays him as Ryan steps outside.

Gerard lives in a small house, it's surrounded by browning grass and Frank's sitting on the step to the door, a lit cigarette between his fingers. When he gets closer Ryan sees there's a plant pot to the side of the step, the remains of a dead plant surrounded by hundreds of cigarette butts. Frank flicks in another and stands.

"Everyone's inside." He starts to go in and then stops, looking over his shoulder. "Hope you brought good movies."

"I like them," Ryan says, and doesn't add he didn't expect it to be a mass viewing, because if he's honest, he's not really surprised. Things at his house happen on a group basis right now, that has to be the same here.

"Mikey's in the living room." Frank's leading them through the porch, there's a messy pile of shoes in one corner and Ryan looks away, his heart beating wildly. His fingers dig into the cases of the DVDs and he nods at Ray who's visible in the kitchen, wearing an apron as he stirs something on the stove.

"He's making pasta sauce." Gerard appears in a doorway, looking apologetic when Ryan jumps. "Sorry, I didn't think." He steps back and Ryan wants to tell him to stop looking so sad, it isn't his fault that Ryan's such a nervous freak.

An awkward pause and there's the sound of Mikey saying, "Gee, stop blocking the door and let him in." Gerard does, and Ryan enters the room.

Mikey's in a nest of blankets on the couch. He's got his foot resting on a pile of pillows and the table next to him is covered in comics, mugs and an impressive amounts of remotes. He's got his phone balanced on his lap, texting one-handed, but he sets it aside when he sees Ryan. He smiles, says, "Come and sit down."

There's an easy chair pulled up close to the couch, a batman comic open on the arm. Ryan sits there, and Spencer says, "You're looking better."

It's true. While Mikey's still thin, the stitches and bruising painfully obvious, he's regained some color. It helps that he's styled his hair, Ryan thinks. That or he's got the worst case of bed-head ever.

"I got to go outside this morning," Mikey says, and his mouth twitches as he gives Frank a look. "Frank pushed me to the garden. He nearly tipped me out four times."

"Three times," Frank corrects, from where he's sitting in a wheelchair, spinning around in a circle. "The last time you nearly fell yourself."

"I dropped my phone." Mikey looks wholly unrepentant. "I needed it."

"You could have waited the five seconds it took me to get there," Frank says, obviously delighting in the frown Mikey throws his way. "I need to go buy sodas, you want anything?"

Mikey shakes his head. "I'm good." He leans back against the back of the couch and pushes the blankets to the floor as Gerard starts to follow.

"I'm going with Frank." He stops, and looks back into the room. "No trying to move around. I mean it. If I find you on the floor again..."

"You'll revoke my coffee privileges, I know."

Ryan sits forward in his chair, wincing a little at the pull in his side. "You fell on the floor?"

Mikey glances at the door and says nothing until Frank and Gerard leave. "Bad dream, I told Gerard I was reaching for the remote."

As horrible as it is, Ryan can't help feeling relieved, he doesn't want Mikey to have bad dreams, but it makes him feel less alone. "Do you..." Ryan stops speaking, he doesn't want to ask questions when Spencer can hear. Not that he doesn't trust him, but there's some things he's not ready to share; not yet.

As if he's picked up Ryan's unspoken message, Spencer says, "I'm going to see if Ray needs a hand."

"You'll end up on chopping duty," Mikey warns, but all Spencer does is grin before walking away. When he's gone Mikey turns to Ryan. “You wanted to ask something?"

"Yeah." Ryan doesn't know how to start. Mikey's seen him at his worst, and Ryan shouldn't be ashamed, because they escaped, they lived. Things should be easy now. He stares at the pictures that are hung on the wall. Original art work and photos of Gerard and Mikey when they were kids. Ryan squeezes shut his eyes, opens them and says, "The dreams, how often do you have them?"

"All the time." Mikey's arm is against his chest and he picks at a loose thread on one of the blankets. "I dream about Marcus and being on the table. Digging that grave and that we didn't get away. Once I dreamed it was Gerard there and not me. They sedated me that night."

"I keep dreaming they took Spencer," Ryan admits, and the memory is a painful thing, lodged in his chest. "I see him strapped to that table, his heart carved out and thrown to the floor." Ryan's breath hitches. "I want them to stop and I don't know how."

"I wish I knew," Mikey sounds sad and Ryan reaches out, resting his hand against Mikey's arm. Mikey looks at him, says, "I miss before, when I always felt safe."

Ryan misses that too, when he went to work and out clubbing. Saw his friends and left the house without second thought. Which is enough to make him angry, because he's lost so much, and it's not right that while Arkman's in prison, Ryan's lost his freedom too. His friends are helping, there with their strength and their love, but Ryan needs to stand alone. Before he can change his mind, he decides to start small.

"Before, at the cabin, I said I'd paint you with glitter."

"You did." Mikey looks confused, as if he doesn't know where Ryan's going with this. If he's honest Ryan doesn't know either, but he stands and takes a small pot of glitter gel out of his pocket. He'd picked it up on a whim at the time, but he's glad when Mikey smiles slightly. "You're bringing the club here?"

"Sort of," Ryan says, because it's more than that. He unscrews the lid and runs his fingers through the gel, coating them in silver. "It's more of a sign."

"That the world needs more glitter?"

"No." Ryan leans forward and draws a line of silver along Mikey's cheekbone, keeping to the side without the stitches. The glitter catches the light, sparking as Ryan keeps his fingers against Mikey's face. "That we're going to keep on living, however hard it gets."

"That's a good sign," Mikey says.

Ryan agrees.

~*~*~*~

Excited, Bess strains forward, and Ryan grips the leash, says, "Bess, heel!"

She slows and moves back, brushing against Ryan's leg, panting as she looks up at him, her mouth open and tongue hanging out at the side. Ryan rubs her head, proud that she's done what she's told. It's a hit and miss thing for Bess, but he loves her deeply, even if she does forget how to behave.

"I can't believe we're dog sitting while you go out," Brendon says, but he doesn't sound annoyed, more amused and Ryan scratches Bess behind her ear.

"Like you won't be hanging with Frank."

"I think you'll find that's hanging on," Jon says, and he tilts his head to the side, looking at Brendon. "Though how he manages it when they're both midgets, I don't know."

Brendon grins and turns so he's walking backwards, looking at Jon. "Like you can talk. Munchkin."

"That's not what your mom said last night," Jon says, and Ryan starts counting down from five, is at three when Brendon yells, laughing as he pounces at Jon.

"Gross, Jon!"

Jon backs away, smiling. "Funny, she said that too."

The chase is on then, Jon's flip flops slapping against the sidewalk as he runs.

"Can you imagine if he ever gets the nerve to approach Frank? The world would end as we know it," Spencer says, watching as Brendon leapfrogs over the bollards that line the road, uncaring of the slush he lands in.

"It would be interesting."

"That's one word for it," Spencer says. "Chaos would do, too."

"Yeah, it's best he keeps mooning over him." Ryan keeps watching as Brendon finally grabs hold of Jon's sweater, but he can also feel Spencer's pointed look. "What?"

"Like you don't moon over Mikey."

"I don't moon," Ryan says, and allows Bess to walk a little faster, but all Spencer does is increase his own pace.

"You've changed three times for this date."

"Wanting to look good isn't mooning," Ryan says, and it's not, just this date is important, Ryan has to look good.

"I guess," Spencer allows, and he walks in silence a while before saying. "But you are gone on him."

Ryan doesn't even deny that, just tries to hide his smile. Which is when someone darts out of an alley, knocking into Ryan before running. It's dark and the man is tall, broad, and Ryan's breathing rapidly, panic crashing down hard. He tries to tell himself it's just a stranger, someone who doesn't want to hurt, who doesn't see Ryan at all, but it doesn't help. His chest is tight and he hates that this still happens at times.

"Ryan. Ryan, you know what to do." Spencer's talking calmly, repeating the words and finally Ryan hears. He reaches down for Bess, fingers in her fur and focuses on his breathing, taking deliberate long breaths. "That's it, that's good. He won't hurt you." Spencer's still talking, patiently waiting until finally Ryan can manage control.

A last stroke of Bess and Ryan says, "Sorry."

"For what? It's not like you do it on purpose," Spencer says, and he bumps Ryan's arm with his elbow. "Come on. Mikey'll be waiting."

Ryan starts to walk. "He could be changing outfits, too."

"Because it takes so long to chose between black hoodies and skinny jeans," Spencer says, but Ryan takes no offense, well aware Mikey and Spencer have forged a friendship that's independent of Ryan.

A few minutes and they're close to the apartment and Ryan counts windows until he finds Mikey and Frank's. There's no one on the roof tonight, it's too cold for that, but Ryan can see shadows moving behind the closed curtains. A lot of shadows, and he wonders how many people are actually up there. A lot he suspects, there always is, it's one of the reasons they're doing this tonight, finally getting their date alone.

"Are you sure you want to do this?" Spencer says suddenly. "Any of us will come along."

"I know." Ryan enters the code for the front door, he can see Brendon and Jon's wet footprints on the floor, and he follows them up the stairs, taking each step slowly, Bess’ claws clicking against the hard ground. "But no, we'll be fine and I've got my phone."

"You'd better call me." Mikey and Frank's landing is decorated for Christmas, the plastic cactus wrapped in tinsel and there's mistletoe hanging over the door. Despite the cold it feels warm and familiar and Ryan opens his arms, pulling Spencer into a hug. Chin resting against Spencer's shoulder, he holds on, Bess nudging against his leg.

"I'll call, promise."

"If you don't I'll come looking," Spencer says, and he will, Spencer always does what he says.

"We'd better go in." The door to the apartment is propped open and Ryan can hear voices, Brendon laughing and Bob yelling, and these are Ryan's friends. The people that got him here. He lets go of Spencer and goes inside.

"Bess!" Frank's hanging over Bob's shoulder, and he beckons for Bess, Ryan drops her leash and she bounds forward, licking at Frank's face, making him giggle.

Jon's already sitting on the sofa with Ray, examining a stack of DVDs and Gerard's slouching against the kitchen doorway, watching Mikey who's standing in front of a mirror, carefully applying liner. When he sees Ryan he smiles, and Ryan can't help but smile back, flipping off Spencer when he starts to laugh, because maybe Ryan is mooning, but Mikey's worth it.

"Ryan, you've got my number, right?" Ryan picks his way over to Gerard, avoiding Frank's flying feet as Bob spins him round, and Bess who's chasing her tail in response.

"I've got it," Ryan says, and pats his phone in his pocket, which has had Gerard's number for months, and Frank's, Bob's and Ray's. Not that he says that when Gerard looks so worried. "I'll call when we get there."

"Thanks," Gerard says and picks up a hoodie, holding it out to Mikey. "You sure you don't want it?"

Mikey finishes lining his eyes and sets down the pencil, says, "Positive," which is surprising, because he always wears a hoodie, they help hide the scars.

"You look good." Ryan stands next to Mikey, looking at them both in the mirror. He looks at the scar that follows Mikey's jaw, the one that snakes from under the sleeve of his t-shirt, visible scars that hint at the ones that are hidden. "You're ready to go?"

"Not yet." Mikey picks up a small jar, showing it to Ryan. "You need to put on my glitter, both sides this time."

"And you can't?" Ryan says, already holding out his hand for the jar.

Mikey smiles. "Well yeah, but I like when you do it better."

Ryan unscrews the lid and dips his fingers in the gel. "In that case." He smoothes on the glitter, following along the line of Mikey's cheekbone, then does it again, extending the glitter to Mikey's hair. "Perfect."

"If you've finished primping I'm ready to go." Ryan looks away from Mikey and sees everyone is watching. Putting down the glitter he takes Mikey's hand. "I think Bob's getting impatient."

Mikey shakes his head. "He's hungry, he'll be calling for take-out after he drops us off."

"Exactly." Bob swings his car keys around his finger. "So if you'd hurry up before I have to eat Frank."

"I'd eat Gerard," Mikey says, and looks at Gerard, who's watching Mikey and Ryan with suspiciously damp eyes. "There's more meat on him."

"True," Bob says, looking Gerard from head to toe. "But Toro'll have better thighs."

"Come on." Carefully, Ryan tugs at Mikey's hand to start him moving, because he knows these people, if they don't leave now they'll be stuck in a conversation about cannibalism and that never ends well."

"Coming," Mikey says and picks up his cane, leaning on it when they finally move, and then almost immediately stops to give Gerard a fierce hug. Which leads to a hug for Frank, and Bob, and Ray, and Jon and Spencer and Brendon and then finally, Gerard again.

"You finished?" Ryan asks, trying to sound stern, which is hard when each look at Mikey provokes a smile.

"I am." Mikey starts to walk again, and this time they get out of the room and out onto the landing, where Ryan stops them, his hand on Mikey's side.

"Look up."

Mikey does, and Bob sighs as he goes downstairs. "Five minutes then I'm coming back."

That's enough for Ryan. He leans in for a kiss and Mikey's mouth feels gritty with stray glitter, enough that Ryan can taste a faint hint of gel as he runs his tongue over Mikey's lips. Holding on tight, his hands over the scars on Mikey's sides, a reminder of what they've survived.

What they'll keep on surviving.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only | Expand All

From:

frausorge

Oh wow, Terri! Talk about packing emotional punches. You have a real power of being unflinching as a writer. My favorite bit was this:

"I was so afraid. There's nothing brave about that."

"There is if you keep going despite that"

and I love how the glitter becomes a symbol of something more for them, a celebration. (And in the middle of all that you made me giggle with the snuggies, dammit!) Just, wow.

From:

The Keys to Unlock You 3/3

Page Summary

Active Entries

Style Credit

Expand Cut Tags