If I'd go to hell, would you come...

DISCLAIMER: This story contains Ryden (meaning; Ryan Ross on Brendon Urie), homosexuality and bad use of language. All homophobes are asked to leave this page right now. I won't stand any discriminating, racistic or insulting reviews.
It's NOT finished, yet. There will be another, finishing part. Feel free to rate, comment and criticise (but, please. I'd prefer you not to talk me a complete self-inferiority complex).

If I'd go to hell, would you come with me or just leave?

‘I'm sorry, Brendon.' Ryan whispered to the other boy who was looking at him, not understanding. ‘I know it's hard to understand, but I'm doing this for you. Really.' He paused and took a deep breath. Brendon could see how tear was rolling down his cheek, faced down. It was heartbreaking for him to see Ryan in such pain, and to know he was the reason for it. ‘I can't let you go through anymore pain.' He continued as he looked up at Brendon. Brendon wanted to caress his face, brush away his tears, ease Ryan's pain. But something restrained him. Prevented him from moving, getting his ass over to the other side of the room, from holding Ryan in his arms and telling everything was going to be just fine.

‘I know you were devastated when Kate committed suicide. You tried to hide it, but it was written on your face. I could read it in your eyes. You cared about her, Brendon. You did care about her.' The calm way in which Ryan said these words made Brendon shiver. Images of that particularly day flashed through his head as in a slideshow. The unmade bed. The door that was opened as if it said "come in". The red water. Her frail body. Her lackluster eyes.
He bit on his lip to stop the gathering tears and feelings of guilt. If only they had locked the door.

‘Friends and family turned their backs on us. Pete threw us of the label. No one in Fueled By Ramen is talking to us anymore. Even William isn't responding Jon's calls. Damn it! You could go to jail! They think you're a sidekick of a murderer, named George Ross! The press is willing to eat you alive!' Brendon closed his eyes and tried to be somewhere elsewhere. Trying not to hear the words Ryan spoke. By hearing those words coming from Ryan's lip, it all became so real. It killed his last hopes that what happened wasn't real.
‘Ryan. Please,' he managed to say. ‘Please, stop it.'
‘How did it come to be like this, Brendon?' Ryan went on. In his voice, there was nothing but despair and sorrow. ‘I know you're trying to be strong for me, trying to protect me from the rest of the world. But as soon as it's night, when we're together and you drop all your covers, it shows how vulnerable you really are. I'm tired of watching how every day a little pieces of you dies, Brendon. And not being able to do anything about it.' He wanted to tell Ryan to shut up, he didn't want to hear it. He didn't want to know Ryan was leaving him. Ryan, the only person he réally needed, was leaving him.
Another piece of him died.
‘Don't, Ryan.' He said almost begging. ‘Don't let me go.'
‘I'd only hurt you, Brendon. Don't you get it? This love is meant to fail! Million eyes are breathing in our every move, waiting for their change to tare us down. This world is full of hate and homohobes. They wouldn't let us be together.' His words were like knifes to the other boy.
‘Don't say that.' Ryan's harsh words aroused him, and made him move over to the window where Ryan was standing. His hands leaning on the windowsill and his face resting against the glass. He locked his arms around the other boy from behind.
‘Please, don't give up on me.' He said as he laid his head to rest on Ryan's shoulder. ‘I need you.' It was just a whispering, the way he said it. He hoped that if he showed Ryan he loved him, that he'd change his mind. That he wouldn't end up crying on the floor of this cold apartment, all alone.
He clung on to Ryan as a little, frightened boy clings on to his mother's skirt. And that was exactly the way he felt.
Small. Frightened.