(no subject)
Title: Morts ou Vivants [Ch. 8/10]
Author: cobrapandemic
Beta: mikeycway
Summary: Brendon should have listened to Travie. Now he's dead too.
Pairing: ghost!Brendon/Ryan, eventual Spencer/Jon
Words: 3376
Disclaimer: Not real, Not real, Not real. I don't own anything but the plot.
::Chapter One:: ::Chapter Two:: ::Chapter Three:: ::Chapter Four:: ::Chapter Five::
::Chapter Six:: ::Chapter Seven::
BRENDON:
Brendon only makes it two blocks away from the the carnival before it hits him like a
ton of bricks. Ryan had just rejected him. Not directly but still, it
had been rejection. Ryan had said that he couldn't do it.
Whatever it may have been, Ryan had said he couldn't do it.
And Alex had said...Alex said that...
“Fuck...” Brendon curses under his breath. Fucking, fuck, fuck. What
the fuck am I going to do now.
The cool night air sends a chill up Brendon's spine as he picks up the pace. So many
things are going through his mind. Does he just...call for Alex and
let the angel take him to heaven or...what? What is he supposed to
do? Ryan rejected him, why isn't Alex here to be a smart ass and take
Brendon's humanity away?
Of all the times for a stupid motherfucker like Gaskarth not to be here-
“Hey, now, sir. That is not at all endearing. I hear your thoughts, you know?
I'm not totally impressed by how you view me, Mr. Brendon.” Alex is
suddenly in front of Brendon, walking backward as he talks face to
face with the irritated and heartbroken boy.
“Lemme tell you. I can totally go up to the big guy and be like, “Bro, homie, my
ninja, that Brendon kid? Totally fucking disrespecting my authority,
you feel me? He is-”
“I don't care.” Brendon barely manages to murmur as he side steps around the
blabbering excuse for an angel. Alex reappears almost instantaneously
at Brendon's side.
“Excuse me, what did you just say?”
Brendon stops, giving himself a moment to really think about the situation. Think
about all of the shit he's been through. Having to go through being
raped and drugged by someone he believed to be a close friend.
Watching his own mother sell his apartment because she didn't
have any hope for him. Meeting Ryan. Falling in love with Ryan.
Losing Ryan and being put in this sorry excuse for a new body and now
this. Being this close to finally getting his body back.
Finally getting Ryan back and...and it all gets ruined
because...
Brendon isn't crying. That is one thing he refuses to believe is happening. “I
said, I don't fucking care, Alex, okay? Just, just do whatever it is
you're planning on doing with me now.”
The two boys are standing on the sidewalk at the corner of 4th and Fremont
(A/N: I had to, guys. Had to) when it starts to rain. The older of
the two is dressed in dark jeans and a red button down. The younger
is dressed in all white. To a passer by, it would look as if there is
just one person, the boy with the red shirt. To a passer by, Brendon
Boyd Urie, or in this case Jace Michael Sanders, is alone, crying,
soaked to the bone and broken.
Brendon doesn't really give a fuck what happens to him at this point. As melodramatic
as melodramas go, Brendon would rather be in hell.
“Dude, just. Maybe you wanna sleep on it or something?” Alex suggests, appearing
to be unsure of himself for the first time since Brendon had met him.
“I'm sure it's just a spur of the moment emotional unhinging you're
having now. Look, I'll zap you back to your apartment, okay?” Alex
grabs onto Brendon's soaked sleeve and there's a loud crackle-pop
before Brendon is standing in the middle of his living room. Alone.
“Fucking angels.” Brendon says quietly to himself as he slinks over to his sofa. His
body feels like it weighs three hundred pounds and his head is surely
about explode or implode, which ever is more painful.
Brendon does make it a point to turn his cell off before he goes to sleep. He just
doesn't need anyone waking him on what is sure to be his last day
alive. There is one new message in his inbox and he almost doesn't
check it.
1 New Message From: RyRy<3:
im rly sry jace. Its nt u im jst knd of fked up rite now. U remnd me of sme1 tht
was rly special 2 me. I rly cnt hndle being frnds or mre w sme1 like
u. again im sry. Hav a good life -ryan
Brendon reads and re-reads the message a dozen times before he chucks
the iPhone against the wall and smiles triumphantly at the cracked
screen.
“I'm sorry too, Ryan.” Brendon says, maybe out-loud, maybe to
himself or maybe not at all. He can't remember anything as the world
around him fades to black.
* * *
RYAN:
The sun is reflecting brilliantly off of the pond behind the rented
condominium Ryan is staying in. There are two kids down below,
running around in circles. Both of them are little boys. One has dark
brown, almost black, shaggy hair. The other has lighter brown hair in
a kind of bowl cut the warms Ryan's heart a little. Ryan wore a bowl
cut from age 4 to age 10. He knows the pain and embarrassment
it brings, okay?
The thing is, the shaggy headed one doesn't seem to mind at all that
his friend has the dorkiest haircut known to man. Nope, the shaggy
headed boy- who happens to be wearing bright red and is maybe a tad
bit ADHD- is jumping all over the bowl cut kid who in turn is
playfully pushing shaggy kid away. It's kind of beautiful in that way
that true innocence is. Two children, not yet tarnished or contorted
by the imperfections of the world. Ryan wishes that he could go back
to being a kid again. Somehow it seems like he needs to start over.
A man and a woman- their parents, apparently- approach the children
with brown paper bags, handing one to each child before making their
way back up the trail and out of sight. Ryan watches as the two
little boys run off in the direction of the pond where there are two
birds. Two birds that Ryan had distinctly not seen earlier.
One is clearly a swan, all snow-white feathers and elegantly arched
neck. The other is a goose maybe. It's feathers are just as white
with a tinge of brown and flaxen that you have to squint to see. Ryan
thinks they're easily the most beautiful birds he's ever seen.
Suddenly- as if by force- he wants to go outside. Maybe take some
pictures to send to Jon? Jon would love that...
Ryan picks up his cell on the way out, switching it into camera
mode. He knows Jon will bitch about quality but it's not like Ryan
was planning on taking pictures while he was away. Jon shouldn't be
such a picky whore. He should be lucky Ryan is even breathing
right now and not hanging by a belt like Ryan had planned. Needless
to say Ryan has shitty and unreflective plans.
Outside, the air is at that amoral temperature that only Vegas can
give you. Not hot but definitely not cold. Ryan doesn't so much mind
it as he wishes that the goddamn weather would stay in one fucking
place.
When he get's out there the little boys are sitting on the long bench
next the pond. Ryan feels maybe a little like a pedophile creeper but
her takes a seat next to the two kids anyway, holding his camera up
to take a picture of the lovely birds.
“Hi! My name is Maika!” The shaggy headed kid says, turning to
face Ryan. Ryan gives him a slight nod. “And this is my brother,
Destery! He doesn't talk a lot. But that's only 'cus he's so smart
that he writes all his thoughts down. And sometimes he lets me look
at them and sing them and stuff. What's your name?”
Ryan can't even think of why he want's to hug the little kid. The way
he bounces up and down and can't stop talking. It reminds him of
Brendon. Hell, everything reminds Ryan of Brendon. “Cool. I'm
Ryan.”
“Really? No way!!! My dad's name is Ryan! You totally actually kind
of look him but not really 'cus you're younger and you look all sad
and my dad is like, never ever sad! 'Cept maybe when I touch
his guitar but I never do that anymore.” Maika says, shaking his
head matter-of-factly. The kid must be five or six because his
vocabulary is extensive. The other boy, clearly older and a whole lot
more reserved, gives Ryan an apologetic look.
“Sorry, he kind of likes to talk. A lot.” The boy,
Destery, says before throwing another piece of bread out to the
birds. Ryan notices that one of the birds is gone. The flaxen one.
All that is left is the swan with the piercing blue eyes. Ryan snaps
a photo as Maika shouts at his brother.
“Father said that I have a beautiful voice?! So, ha!” The
boy pokes out his tongue before turning back to Ryan. “We have two
daddies! There's Daddy Ryan and- Ouch! That hurt, Destery!”
The older boy had smacked his younger brother against the head. “What
did aunt Maja and uncle Alex say about giving out that kind of
information to strangers, Maika?” Destery gives Ryan another, less
apologetic and more suspicious, glance. “We have to go anyway. Our
parents are probably home from their show by now. Bye, Ryan.”
Ryan watches as the two boys run off towards the exit where the man
and woman that Ryan had believed to be their parents are standing and
waiting. Ryan can't help noticing how familiar the two people look up
close. The blonde, Ryan had seen somewhere and the guy, Ryan had
definitely seen last night. In his apartment building wearing that
maintenance uniform.
“Small world...” Ryan sighs to himself, turning back to get a
couple more shots of the birds only to find the pond empty.
“Great...I only got two photos.” Ryan sends both of the pictures
to Jon before heading back to his condo for a nap. It's all he really
can do, anyway.
Before he lies down Jon texts him back.
1 New Message
From: Jwalk:
why did you
just send me a picture of an empty pond ryan? Where are you? Spencer
wont tell me. Im worried. Please call??
Ryan blinks at the message, scrolling back down to view the outgoing
MMS he'd sent. Surely enough, there are just two grainy cell phone
snapshots of the murky pond. No beautiful birds. Just water.
Ryan texts Spencer next.
U cn tll jon
With that he curls up on the bed that isn't his and falls into a
troubled sleep.
* * *
BRENDON:
Brendon isn't sure where he is at first because it's far too dark.
There's fog...no, smog, covering the air in thick sheets and
the street lamps aren't doing much to create any kind of viewfinder.
Brendon squints at his surroundings and when he sees an old oak next
to a bench, he knows exactly where he is. In the oak tree is a white
owl with big green eyes that sparkle with sarcasm- if animals could
be sarcastic.
Brendon looks out further into the smog and sees it. The white swan
with the piercing blue eyes. The bird is resting in the dead center
of the pond, eyes trained on Brendon. He's back in Central Park.
“Maja, Alex, what's going on?” Brendon asks outright. It's no
surprise to him when the two angels appear next him where his taken a
seat on the bench.
“First off,” Maja begins in here thick accent, “I would like to
say I do not appreciate you sending me away to be replaced by this
dimwit.” She glares at a smirking Alex who makes smoochy face at
her. “But, I decided to help you out a little.”
“We both decided.” Alex cuts in. Brendon doesn't look at
either of the angels. Instead he trains his eyes on the middle of the
pond where the full moon is reflecting off of the surface of the
midnight black water, big and mighty and snow white. Brendon wonders
if that's God watching over him. Then he remembers that he doesn't
care.
“We paid a little visit to Ryan and-”
“You talked to Ryan?” Brendon demands, turning his full attention
to Maja. She shrugs.
“Not exactly. We...listened in while we had a couple of our
Spirit Angels...talk to him for us.” She explains. Brendon frowns.
“Spirit Angels? What?”
Alex speaks now. “Yeah. You know how the Bible says that we're all
God's children? Well even before we're born we're God's children. And
there are subcategories of angels in heaven. One being the Spirit
Angels. Those that have yet to be given life.”
“So,” Brendon tries to wrap his mind around what he's hearing.
“So, some unborn kids talked to Ryan for you? What did they say to
him?”
“Too much. Damn kids.” Alex grumbles but Maja clears her throat
obnoxiously loud.
“It's not what they said, Brendon. It's what Ryan heard. Whether or
not the Spirit Angels spoke of rain or the newest video game
it....all that matters is that they left their Spirit Mark on Ryan
Ross.”
The fog around Brendon is steadily dissipating as he begins to feel
drowsier by the second. “So, what...what does that mean for me?”
Maja just smiles and wraps her arms around Brendon's body, squeezing
him tightly. “It means you get to go home. But don't worry. Alex
and I will always be around.”
Alex chuckles, patting Brendon on the back rather hard. “See you on
the flip side, Urie.”
Brendon tries to respond but the streetlights just seem way brighter
than they should be. Blinding even. Yeah, no. Brendon can't fucking
see anything but lights now.
It feels as if his world has just dropped from beneath him and his
body shudders at the feeling.
“...moving? I just...moving?” Brendon can hear voices as
he drifts in and out of consciousness. A woman's voice. And as he
listens closer he recognizes it as his mother's.
“Brendon, baby. Can you hear me, honey?” Mrs. Urie is leaning
over Brendon's body, perhaps far too close for comfort if Brendon
actually cared about anything other than being able to fucking hear
his mom again.
He feels his mouth open and maybe he says, Mom or Tom or Bomb, but
whatever he says sends his mother into hysterics. Happy hysterics but
hysteric nonetheless.
Brendon wills his eyes to open and the florescent lights makes him
squint harshly up at his crying mother. Her face is sickly pale and
her make-up is running down her cheeks in thick black lines. Really,
it looks like something out of a bad funeral movie.
“M-mom, stop crying. You'll get tears in my hair.” Brendon
murmurs, voice cracking at having not been used for more than a
month. His words send his mother launching into his arms.
“Oh, Brendon. I'm so sorry, sweetheart. I...I though I lost you. We
thought we lost you! Baby, don't ever scare us like that
again, do you hear me, mister? I don't care what you say, I
will send you on that mission. I will, Brendon-Boyd,
don't you tempt me!” Mrs. Urie looks down at her son. The boy's
bruised skin has healed and is a uniform milky white now. His big
brown eyes are tired but hold that sparkle that they formerly did and
he's smiling that ample grin that she loves so much.
“I love you so much, Brendon. I just want you to know that.” She
says, running a shaky hand through her sons matted brown hair. “So,
so much.”
Brendon doesn't bother wiping away the warm, salty tears that are
streaming from his eyes. “I love you too, mom. And I'm sorry. This
is all my fault. I shouldn't have been doing the things I was doing.
I should have listened to you. I was being a terrible son and I
promise-”
“Brendon, honey. Shhhh,” Mrs. Urie shushes her son, gingerly
rubbing the wetness from his face. “Don't apologize. Everyone makes
mistakes. Don't get yourself worked up about that. We'll talk about
it later. Now, let me just go get your doctor and let him know you're
awake.”
Brendon nods, although he still wants to apologize for everything.
Things that are his fault, things that aren't. He just wants to
apologize for everything.
Brendon let's his eyes wander to the open window to his right. The
sun is beaming brightly, illuminating the yellow walls of the
hospital room and on the windowsill are two little birds. One white
with blue eyes and one brown with green eyes. And they're singing.
The brown one is so off-key it's almost petrifying but Brendon smiles
anyway.
“Thanks, guys...” He says, knowing the two angels can hear him.
And maybe it's totally cliché but they maybe sing a little louder.
The door of the hospital room opens and an older, balding man that
Brendon is to assume is his doctor enters. He doesn't go to Brendon
though. He goes to the window where the birds have stopped singing
and are looking like they're planning an attack.
“Shoo! These two have been showing up on this window every day
these last couple weeks. SHOO!” The doctors flings a hand out at
the birds. The white one squawks but obeys, flying away but the brown
one pecks viciously at the doctor's hand before escaping unscathed.
The doctor gives Brendon a half smile. “Sorry about that, Mr. Urie.
Damn, birds. Don't know when to leave well enough alone. Anyhow, it's
good to see you awake. You've been in a coma for seven weeks and
seven hours, son.”
Brendon flinches at that. He should be dead. He really should. “It's
nothing short of a miracle that you're alive.” The doctor- Dr.
Morrisey, his badge says- is sticking a thermometer in Brendon's
mouth, checking his heart rate and reading his heart monitor at the
same time. “I honestly didn't think you'd make it out of here
alive, I won't lie.” Dr. Morrisey finally steps away, writing on
his chart. “Must be friends with someone up there, eh?”
Brendon doesn't know whether to cry or laugh hysterically, so he just
settles for, “Yeah. Guess so.”
Dr. Morrisey smiles at him. “Well, your vitals look amazing. You
should be set to get out of here tomorrow morning, Mr. Urie. Anything
in particular you looking forward to doing?”
Brendon nods to himself, Ryan's face filling his mind. “Yeah. I've
got a few things in mind.”
“Excellent. Well, those meds should be kicking in soon, so get some
rest and by the time you wake up, you'll be free to go.”
Brendon makes it a point to thank the doctor before the drugs knock
him out cold. He doesn't dream though. He doesn't even imagine. He
just floats. And honestly, it's the most peaceful he's ever
been in his entire life.
* * *
A/N: Hi, hello this is Arlinda. First, I'm so sorry about the font spacing on this chapter. LJ was being a bitch to me tonight. Anyway, I really hope you didn't mind the
cliché/confusingness of this chapter. It made sense in my mind,
okay? And I make up the storyline as I write each individual chapter
so I never know what the plot will be. This one just so happened to
involve Spirit Children and owls and swans and a really mean
Alex-Birdie. Honestly, I hope you liked it despite the constant
mind-fuckery. And I'm planning on making this a ten chapter story
with an epilogue to explain the Maika and Destery thing. Um, that is
all I suppose. Oh! And the name Maika is owed to the lead singer of
the band There for Tomorrow. The name Destery is owed to my
favorite YouTubers DesandNate. You should check these guys
out. Great band, great youtubers.
Anyway, I shall see you on the flip side, bitches!
-Your Mom (Arlinda)
Brendon Urie's Quotable Quote that is Quotable of the Day: “And
the good lord did say; Let them rock out with thine cock out.”