longerthanwedo

Title: Recycled Phrases
Author: longerthanwedo
Rating: PG-13?
Pairing: Ryan/Brendon
Summary: It won’t be okay. Ryan knows that. He knows, and the monotone voices of the broken-record doctors can’t drown out truth. Their practiced reassurances won’t ever soothe the pain deep inside of him, he doesn’t know if anything ever could.
Disclaimer: Don't own them. Sadly. Title belongs to The Academy Is...
Author's Notes: This was like the fastest I've ever written anything. But I like it.

“It will be okay.”

Words drained of their meaning, said over and over again until they don’t sound real anymore. Until they sound like a broken record, spewing out shards of sentences that are completely flat. They’re words that have no depth.

It won’t be okay. Ryan knows that. He knows, and the monotone voices of the broken-record doctors can’t drown out truth. Their practiced reassurances won’t ever soothe the pain deep inside of him, he doesn’t know if anything ever could.

“You don’t know what you’ve got till it’s gone.”

That. That, Ryan thinks, is the truth. It was a twisted relationship, a bent and broken family, same as the record, the only lyrics still playing ones of hate and ignorance. All Ryan ever wanted was to be rid of all that. He was desperate to rip the plug out of the wall and make the shouts stop assaulting his ears; make the punches stop assaulting his body. Countless times he’d wished it would disappear.

“Be careful what you wish for.”

Now it’s gone. It’s gone and it hurts. The truth hurts. It’s the truth that - while he still had the chance – Ryan could have tried to make it better. He could have tried to mend the shattered relationship that still ghosted between him and his father. Who knows if it would have helped, but he could have tried.

“It’s just too little, too late.”

Now the chance is gone. Snatched from behind Ryan’s back when he wasn’t looking. Involuntary love and opportunity once warm and alive, now cold and lifeless smothered in too-white hospital sheets.

“It will be okay.”

Ryan knows that voice. He knows that voice, and nothing could ever sound broken in that voice.

A warm hand ghosts over his shoulder, across his back. It’s familiar and he melts into it, looking for something whole, something not-yet shattered by life. Arms close around him and words of comfort are whispered, soft in his ear. That beautiful, truthful voice.

The doctors don’t care. They can’t tell a peaceful death from lost opportunity and shattered ghosts. They stutter washed out words that make no difference.

But these words in this voice make a world of difference. These words and this voice remind Ryan that he’s never alone. This voice gives him something steady to cling to when meaning is crumbling from his world. Shattered words sound whole when spoken with feeling. Ryan knows that these overused sounds are now uttered with feeling. He knows, and that soothes the searing pain in him just a little.

“It will be okay.”

And Ryan believes.