Team Brendon: If You Love Something, Let it Go
And the world very well may be an insane asylum



The haunting and slow melodies echoed in the asylum hall. They promised cures for cancer, they swore that everyone would be okay; all you had to do was... give them your mind. Would you do it?

Brendon was walking down the hallway. Stumbling, tripping. His hands were covering his ears. He was running now. Running and screaming. The bone white wall’s very skulls were grinning at him. Masking hidden things, things Brendon wanted to find.

Brendon scratched at the walls with broken nails. Flakes of paint fell weightlessly to the floor. All that was revealed was a darker shade of white. Nothing was there. No one was here. Something was banging on his mind. Something was eating his thoughts.

Brendon tore away from the wall and kept walking down the hallway. The tiled floors were cold against Brendon’s bare feet. He felt strange. Numb, fragile. The walls grew dirtier as he continued down the hall. His eyes were wide. The floors were covered in filth.

Brendon stopped at a closed door. He leant up onto the tips of his toes and looked through the grimy glass. He could see a young girl lying on the bed. She was lying above the covers. Unbreathing, unmoving. The left side of her face was burnt. Brendon touched a pale, cold finger to his forehead, then to his chest, to his left shoulder and then to his right shoulder. His sequence formed a cross.

Brendon turned away and continued down the hall. Brendon didn’t know where he was, but this place had an eerily calm sense about it. Brendon couldn’t be worried right now. Doors kept appearing as Brendon walked down the filthy hall. But he didn’t look inside anymore.

He could hear a disembodied woman’s voice vocalising to simple taps on piano keys.

Brendon grew uneasy as he neared the end of the hall. It almost felt like he shouldn’t be departing the hall. Brendon’s thinking pattern was becoming jagged. He couldn’t recollect anything. He had no memories. Brendon stopped when he reached a door. It was a white door. It wasn’t dirty at all. The door had no handle. And Brendon stood outside it. Just staring. He moved his head to the side slightly, and reached out to touch the door.

He pushed it open slowly. A blinding white light flooded over Brendon. It opened wider. It was so beautiful, so inviting. Brendon made to step forward; he wanted to touch the light. He let out a bloodcurdling scream as he was jerked backward, jerked into an uncomforting darkness. His chest was hurting. It felt as though someone had burned his skin. Was burning his skin.

Brendon scrambled to his feet, spinning around in the darkness. He could hear distressed voices. Brendon closed his eyes. When he opened them he seemed to be in some sort of waiting room. Faceless people were sitting in green chairs. Once again the walls were white. Though they were a clean white. Brendon gazed around the room tiredly. He could see Ryan. He could see Ryan and Spencer. He could see Ryan, Spencer and Brent. Brendon felt too lethargic to be excited. What was happening to him?

He stumbled over to his friends. They didn’t even have the courtesy to look at him. They looked so torn, so defeated. “Hey, you guys,” whispered Brendon, finding his voice. Once again, they spared him no glances.

“Hello?” asked Brendon quietly. They seemed not to hear or see him. Tears were running down Ryan’s cheeks. The skin around Spencer’s eyes was red. It looked scoured, so different than the soft white flesh that was once there. Brendon then changed his gaze to Brent, who was sitting there, unshaken. Though somehow Brent looked like a ghost of his former self. They all looked so haunted.

Something very bad must have happened. “Look, I understand you guys are upset,” said Brendon, surprising himself with how angry he was so suddenly. “But if you could tell me what’s going on I’m sure we can figure this out.”

No one gave any sign that they had heard him. Brendon didn’t even know if he’d heard himself. He could feel himself tearing up. Was there something seriously wrong with them? Were they blind? Oh, why could they not hear him? Brendon moved around to Ryan and sat in the empty seat beside him. The cushioned seat didn’t move under his weight.

“What is happening, Ryan? I’m scared,” murmured Brendon. Ryan didn’t respond. Brendon reached out to touch Ryan’s hand. The eerie copy of Ryan didn’t acknowledge the touch. That’s what they must be – copies.

Brendon hissed. “Seriously, what are you?” he asked. He was angry, but he wasn’t able to lose it. His emotions seem to have depleted. They were meeker, more docile, almost to a point where he couldn’t feel anymore.

The copy didn’t reply.

Brendon fell to the floor as a wave of nausea flooded through him. But no bad things would escape him. Tears were running down Brendon’s face and he could smell a foul stench all the same. He could also feel things under his skin. They were trying to escape. Brendon scratched at his skin, trying to break through the surface. No matter what he did, no matter how hard he tried, the skin just wouldn’t break.

The feeling ceased. Brendon climbed to his feet. Ryan was whispering to himself. Brendon took a step forward, leaning in close so he could hear what Ryan was saying. He was half-expecting the man to push Brendon backwards, to finally acknowledge Brendon’s presence. He didn’t.

“He always told me it was okay to live,” repeated Ryan, over and over and over. Brendon’s lips tugged into a frown. Who? Who always told Ryan that?

“Fuck you, Brendon, why did I let you do this, I don’t want to lose someone else,” moaned Ryan, but he didn’t cry. He was too proud for tears. Brendon stood up, hanging his head shamefully.

Maybe this was all one big prank. Some elaborate scheme. But no matter how much Brendon tried to make himself believe that, he knew it was something else. Brendon looked around the room again before he felt a faint buzzing next to his thigh. He looked down at the white material he was wearing, reaching into his pocket. He pulled out a cell phone. Brendon sighed. Maybe he could call someone. The small screen told him that he had received one new text message. He opened it.

The phone took him straight to the message. His eyes widened before some emotion related to fear froze them. im ok im ok im ok im ok, repeated the message, over and over again. Endlessly. And Brendon kept receiving messages. He flipped his phone shut. He was shaking.

Brendon stumbled over to the front desk, where an old woman was sitting sombrely. “Excuse me, but what the hell is going on?” asked Brendon, his voice seeming to echo around the room. The receptionist didn’t flinch.

Brendon turned back to his friends. A man Brendon assumed was a doctor had just entered the room. Brent yelled as Ryan jumped up, running over by the doctor. He grabbed the doctor by the shirt angrily. “What the fuck have you done to him!?” screamed Ryan. Brent and Spencer tore Ryan away from the doctor.

Brendon frowned as he watched the little scene unfold. Had something happened to someone they knew? Brendon bit his lip and walked over to them so he could hear what they were saying. “What did you do to him?” Ryan hissed.

The doctor sighed. “He knew the risks, but he isn’t responding well to the... therapy.”

Ryan let out a maniacal laugh. “Therapy? You call this shit ‘therapy’? It’s fucking torture! He is dying and you are doing absolutely nothing to stop him!”

The doctor pursed his lips. “Mr. Ross, we understand your concern, but we assure you that he is not dying, we may have lost him for a second, but we have him back. He is anaesthetised and cannot feel a thing.”

Ryan stepped closer to the doctor. “Then wake him up,” whispered Ryan dangerously.

The doctor looked worried for a second before his damningly calm demeanour returned. “We can’t, he’s... gone into a medically-induced coma.”

The blood drained from Ryan’s face. “What? Can we see him? How long will he be out of it for? You better be fucking careful, otherwise I’ll sue your ass.”

“I’m sure that won’t be necessary, Mr Ross. He should be in the coma for only six hours, it was necessary to relieve the stress on his brain and body. Yes, you may see him, please note that he isn’t looking his best.”

Brendon frowned. Why was no one telling him what was going on? Brendon followed the doctor and his friends, finding himself in the same hall he was in before, but now it was much less sinister. Brendon is scared. He continued to follow them. He doesn’t even know if he wants to see what’s wrong with this person.

The doctor unlocked the room. Ryan is the first one in. Brendon watches as Brent and Spencer follow after them. Brendon slunk in as well, before the doctor could shut the door. Brendon’s heart dropped as he saw himself lying amongst tubes.

Brendon couldn’t freak out. Maybe he was expecting this? It was most likely due to Brendon’s new timid emotions. It felt as though he had a cloud in his mind. Brendon gritted his teeth as he saw Brent wipe a few glistening tears from his eyes. Brendon moved closer to his body. He was mesmerised and confused as to how he could be here, yet be... there.

Brendon reached out to touch himself before shying away. He wasn’t looking so great. His skin was deathly pale and the skin around his eyes was as red as Spencer’s. Brendon’s hair was a mess. His eyelids were parted slightly and Brendon could see his eyes flickering behind them. Brendon stood a few feet behind his friends as they stood beside his... body. Brendon shook his head slightly.

Brent was the first one to speak. “Spencer and me are going to go get something to eat,” he said softly, “do you want to come with us, Ryan?”

Ryan shook his head wordlessly. He was staring at Brendon’s body as if he were mesmerized. Brent and Spencer turned and left the room slowly. Brent stopped before leaving, staring at the very place where Brendon was standing. He shook his head slightly before leaving. All Brendon could do was watch them go.

Brendon turned around, his gaze fixing on Ryan. Brendon is scared. He took a few steps towards Ryan, stopping when he was just beside him. Ryan’s hand was touching Brendon’s chest. Brendon felt as though he was a stranger on this intimate scene, even though it was him Ryan was touching. Brendon put his hand on Ryan’s. Ryan didn’t move.

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry I let you go through with this, I can’t let you go,” whispered Ryan, pulling his hand away and tucking some hair behind Brendon’s body’s ear.

The cloud seemed to lift from Brendon’s mind. He had to communicate with Ryan somehow. He didn’t know how. Brendon didn’t even know what he was. He couldn’t be a ghost. Maybe he was a memory? Only being kept alive by his friends remembering him. Brendon frowned.

“What if you never wake up?” murmured Ryan closely. Ryan was always the optimist. Brendon looked at the floor. What if he never woke up? What would he be doomed to stay here for eternity? Brendon couldn’t understand.

“You were never okay, were you?” whispered Ryan. Brendon whimpered, why could he not remember anything? The serene calm that was all around him made him forget meaningful things, so it seemed.

“Before you went in for this, I told you I loved you. I just wanted you to know that I meant it. I’m sorry that I’m such a coward,” said Ryan sombrely.

Before Brendon went in for what? Brendon sighed angrily in frustration. He had to communicate with Ryan somehow. Brendon walked over to the machine that was doing god-knows-what for Brendon’s body. He reached out to turn it off. That would get Ryan’s attention. Brendon pressed the button. He could feel the button, but nothing happened. Brendon let out a strangled cry.

Brendon whipped around to face Ryan, who was now sitting in a chair and looking at Brendon’s body with troubled eyes. Brendon knelt down in front of Ryan, reaching his arms up and placing his hands on Ryan’s shoulders.

“Ryan?” whispered Brendon sadly. “Ryan, please.”

Ryan’s eyes flickered up. They were looking into Brendon’s. “Br –?”

Both Brendon and Ryan jumped as Brent and Spencer entered the room noisily. Ryan spun around. “Yes!” cried Brendon, “yes! I’m here, Ryan!” But Ryan couldn’t hear him.

“Are you okay, Ryan?” asked Spencer softly.

“I think I’m going insane in here, Spencer,” chuckled Ryan, “I thought that I heard Brendon, I could almost feel him.”

Spencer smiled sadly. “Well, he is lying right beside you.”

Ryan stood violently. “No! I could almost hear him talking; I think he might be here! His spirit or whatever.”

“Ryan, he’s not dead and he’s going to be awake in a few hours. You can talk to him then, everything will be okay,” interrupted Brent with his damningly calm demeanour. It was strange hearing people talking about Brendon when he was in the room.

“Brent! He’s so fucking depressed that he needed to get electroconvulsive therapy to try and cure it! Everything will be far from okay!”

Brendon recoiled. He was depressed? He had electroconvulsive therapy? Why, why couldn’t he remember anything? Brendon looked down at his thin, unconscious body and cringed. Maybe the fact he could no longer remember was a blessing inside a curse.

“I’m waiting for answers, Brendon,” said Ryan softly. Brendon saw Brent and Spencer exchange worried looks. Brendon sighed and looked at the ground. He was stuck in the middle of all this. And it all of it was his fault. Brendon’s eyes transferred to his body again. And this was all so surreal.

“His parents are going to want to know where Brendon is soon – I know he didn’t want it, but, you know, if something goes wrong...”

Ryan silenced Spencer with a look. No. He glared and glared until Spencer looked away. “No,” hissed Ryan, “I am not telling them. I don’t want anything to go wrong! Nothing, nothing will ever go wrong! I love him, okay? I don’t – I just – I don’t know anymore! Kicked out of his own home and barely having enough money to live on – it’s just... I can’t bring the people that caused this to him.”

Spencer decided not to mention that it was also partly their fault, as they’d convinced Brendon to drop some things and skip graduation – for the sake of the band, they had said. Brendon had agreed. Brendon always agreed. He would just let Ryan grieve. Ryan enjoys grieving. But that was an awful though, Spencer realised, glancing over, unavoidably, at Brendon’s unconscious body.

His eyes were still hidden mostly by his eyelids. Ryan watched them flitter erratically, and he felt a little sick to the stomach. The black of a person’s eye is the most revealing thing someone will ever let you see. That is why people glance around with guarded eyes – masking their true intentions until you can see it on their face, in their limbs and seeping from inside them. The first person to ever let Ryan truly see the dark of their eye was Spencer. When he showed Ryan the black of his eye Ryan could see a grey stranger prowling around. But the stranger wasn’t menacing, the stranger wasn’t tough, the stranger wasn’t a stranger – it was just Spencer.

Brendon twitched slightly, drawing Ryan’s attention back to him. Brendon was different, however. He arrived without warning and he stayed. His eyes were dark – much too dark. He didn’t see with them, he saw through them. And all Ryan could see where shadows. Brendon’s eyes were unshielded, but there was nothing inside them. Though they still weren’t clear. They were hazed and cunning and disguised. They were mysteries within mysteries.

Brendon didn’t have a lot of friends, thought Ryan maliciously, but he didn’t know exactly why he felt so angry. Maybe it was because he had never given someone control of his eyes. He already gave them to everyone. Look through the eyes of another, mused Ryan, and you’ll see things; but not as you wish they were.

Brendon can be focused and distracted at the same time. How anyone’s mind could be so endless that it holds grass fields and blue skies and oceans inside it is beyond Ryan. Brendon’s reckless eyes continue to flicker. And Ryan wondered – maybe he never learnt how to protect them. Maybe he never needed to. But he does now. He needs to protect himself. Depression got him so easily, it slinked in through his eyes and refused to leave.

But it has to be gone now, Ryan decided. It must be. Ryan jumped as Brendon sniffled, and Brendon fell as his body came back to life, so much sooner than expected, even though Brendon was never a fighter. And as his body awoke, Brendon became a wisp of smoke and disappeared. Now he was no longer a memory. Now he couldn’t remember.

Brendon coughed as his heart roared back to life. He spluttered and nearly threw up, but he didn’t.

“Brendon!” exclaimed Ryan with a hoarse voice. Spencer and Brent hurried over, with wide eyes. Brendon rubbed his eyes lethargically and blinked once, twice, three times.

“Guys?” asked Brendon, with blurred vision.

Ryan fell to his knees beside him, and wrapped his arms around Brendon’s thin torso. Brendon blinked blearily and allowed the contact. “Mmmm, wus’ going on?” he asked, his voice cracking. Ryan held him tighter.

“You left – you left, but you’re back now. You’re back, you’re back,” exclaimed Ryan.

Spencer turned around and ran for the door. “Excuse me, can I have a doctor in here?” he called loudly. Spencer always had quick reflexes. When he turned back, a single was tear running down Ryan’s face.

“I knew you’d come back, but I thought you wouldn’t – there was a small part of me that honestly thought you’d die. But, you’re back.”

Brendon smiled slightly, but his muscles hurt, so he stopped. “I was always gonna come back, you know, I'm not a wild bird,” he whispered. Ryan let out a watery chuckle.
And, god, this wasn’t the end, but everything was real and tangible. It was now and everything was goddamn okay.
Brendon’s phone beeped.
New Message.

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