Like Dreamers Do (Rydon)
Title: Like Dreamers Do
Author: Emmy (noahatthedisco)
Paring: Rydon
Rating: PG13-NC17
POV: 3rd person limited, Ryan
Summery: 1967. The United States Of America is at war with Vietnam and young men across the country are drafted into service for the army. In a small apartment in Sin City, four boys just try to make their way in the world. All they want is the chance to live, love and be loved. Like all dreamers do.
Disclaimer: Panic was not alive in 1967, so this is all lies. Lies, I tell you.
A/N: So Sophie saved me by offering to beta for me... thanks so much chica
Previous Chapters and Master Post
(chapter five)
"I'm so sorry, Brendon."
"Please stop apologizing, Ry."
Ryan sighed, bowing his head. They were situated in the bathroom of the apartment. Brendon was seated on the counter top by the sink, his legs spread wide enough for Ryan to stand between them. Blood was still leaking out of the cut on Brendon's cheek, though it had started to scab over.
Ryan looked up again, raising the damp rag in his hand to finish cleaning the cut. "If I hadn't wanted to go to the protest this would never have happened."
One of Brendon's hands came out to rest on Ryan's hip, his ankles crossing to lock behind Ryan's knees. "You were just standing up for what you believe in." Brendon's voice was soft, understanding and tender, and Ryan's chest tightened.
"Still, I feel guilty," Ryan answered, finally meeting Brendon's eyes. His heart ached as he looked into those soft, dark eyes which he loved. Setting the rag aside, Ryan reached his long fingers up to trace over Brendon's features. Brendon reached out, catching Ryan's hand.
"Would it make you feel better if said I forgive you?" Brendon asked, and Ryan looked down at their joined hands. He nodded slightly. Brendon leaned forward, so his uninjured cheek was pressed against Ryan's. "I forgive you."
Ryan tried to bite back the sob welling up in his chest. He pushed towards Brendon, wrapping his arms around the younger man's waist. Brendon's arms circled around his shoulders, wrapping Ryan in warmth.
"They were shooting, Bren. Oh, Jesus, they were shooting at people. What if... oh God, B, what if..." Ryan could feel himself trembling.
"We're all fine, Rybabe. Just a little bit of blood. We're all okay," Brendon whispered against Ryan's light brown curls. Ryan drew strength from Brendon's steadiness.
Pulling back, Ryan cradled Brendon's face in his hands. "I love you," he whispered, leaning forward to kiss Brendon softly. Brendon hummed happily, sliding his hands down Ryan's back.
"I love you, too," Brendon answered, slipping off the counter. Ryan sighed again, linking his hand with Brendon's.
They walked out into the living room together. Spencer was sitting in his favorite chair, his face tired and ashen. Jon was seated on the floor in front of the TV, which was set to the evening news. The fading light of twilight was the only other thing lighting the room.
Ryan stopped next to Jon on his way to the couch. He reached a hand out to rest on Jon's shoulder, making Jon turn to look at him. "Thank you," he whispered.
Jon nodded and Ryan drew his hand back, going to join Brendon on the couch. He turned his attention to the TV where the news reporter was discussing the "violent riot which took place at the University of Las Vegas earlier today."
"Four people shot; one dead, two in critical condition." Spencer listed quietly. Ryan's eyes snapped up to Spencer's blank face. He'd always been able to read his friend pretty well.
"Spence?" he asked hesitantly. Spencer blinked, shaking his head like he was coming back to something.
"I wonder if I knew any of them."
Silence fell over the small crowd of friends, each lost in his own thoughts. Then Jon spoke suddenly. "A year and a half ago..." he started, stopped again, and then took a deep breath. "A year and a half ago I went to one of these sits. It was April, and in Chicago that means cold and wet. I remember that it was the first nice day we'd had for a while, and I was looking forward to taking pictures. So was Tom. Tommy... Tom Conrad, my best friend, my..." Jon trailed off, his eyes flickering to Ryan and Brendon on the couch. Ryan understood, and his heart sped up.
"It was a lot like today's rally. We just sat around, taking pictures of each other and talking. Then... then there was noise everywhere. It was hard to tell what was going on, stuff was flying everywhere. Then there was shooting. I didn't even know what was happening, but I couldn't find Tommy. We'd gotten pulled apart by the crowd." Jon's voice cracked, his eyes over bright. "By the time I'd got to him he'd been shot in the stomach. He died twenty six hours later."
Shocked silence fell over the room. Spencer slid of his chair so he was on the ground next to Jon. He reached out, linking his hand with Jon's, his eyes fixed on the older man's face. Jon smiled gratefully at him, and Ryan could see Jon's fingers close around Spencer's.
"Anyway. I couldn't stay in Chicago after that. So I sold our apartment and bought a car. I've been on the road since, hopping from protest to protest."
"What were you looking for?" Brendon asked quietly. He'd been so silent that Ryan actually jumped when Brendon spoke. He reached out to quickly grab Brendon's hand.
"I have no idea," Jon chuckled, a smile spreading across his face. However, his eyes flicked to Ryan's face.
"Did you find it?" Ryan's voice was quiet, husky.
"I think so. Maybe."
Ryan's eyes danced from Brendon to Spencer quickly, communicating silently. Brendon smirked slightly at him, and Spencer shrugged. Ryan nodded.
Spencer turned to Jon, squeezing his hand. "Stay with us? I think we've got an extra room now."
Ryan blushed slightly and Brendon chuckled. Jon just smiled. "You'll have me?"
"No, loser, we're going to throw you out into the street after you saved my life," Brendon said sarcastically, rolling his eyes.
Ryan chuckled lightly, smiling at his boy. Brendon matched his grin, starting to laugh softly himself. Spencer followed shortly after, and Jon just watched them all laughing, hand still locked with Spencer's as they all laughed around him. He smiled, letting out a small laugh himself.
Author: Emmy (noahatthedisco)
Paring: Rydon
Rating: PG13-NC17
POV: 3rd person limited, Ryan
Summery: 1967. The United States Of America is at war with Vietnam and young men across the country are drafted into service for the army. In a small apartment in Sin City, four boys just try to make their way in the world. All they want is the chance to live, love and be loved. Like all dreamers do.
Disclaimer: Panic was not alive in 1967, so this is all lies. Lies, I tell you.
A/N: So Sophie saved me by offering to beta for me... thanks so much chica
Previous Chapters and Master Post
(chapter five)
"I'm so sorry, Brendon."
"Please stop apologizing, Ry."
Ryan sighed, bowing his head. They were situated in the bathroom of the apartment. Brendon was seated on the counter top by the sink, his legs spread wide enough for Ryan to stand between them. Blood was still leaking out of the cut on Brendon's cheek, though it had started to scab over.
Ryan looked up again, raising the damp rag in his hand to finish cleaning the cut. "If I hadn't wanted to go to the protest this would never have happened."
One of Brendon's hands came out to rest on Ryan's hip, his ankles crossing to lock behind Ryan's knees. "You were just standing up for what you believe in." Brendon's voice was soft, understanding and tender, and Ryan's chest tightened.
"Still, I feel guilty," Ryan answered, finally meeting Brendon's eyes. His heart ached as he looked into those soft, dark eyes which he loved. Setting the rag aside, Ryan reached his long fingers up to trace over Brendon's features. Brendon reached out, catching Ryan's hand.
"Would it make you feel better if said I forgive you?" Brendon asked, and Ryan looked down at their joined hands. He nodded slightly. Brendon leaned forward, so his uninjured cheek was pressed against Ryan's. "I forgive you."
Ryan tried to bite back the sob welling up in his chest. He pushed towards Brendon, wrapping his arms around the younger man's waist. Brendon's arms circled around his shoulders, wrapping Ryan in warmth.
"They were shooting, Bren. Oh, Jesus, they were shooting at people. What if... oh God, B, what if..." Ryan could feel himself trembling.
"We're all fine, Rybabe. Just a little bit of blood. We're all okay," Brendon whispered against Ryan's light brown curls. Ryan drew strength from Brendon's steadiness.
Pulling back, Ryan cradled Brendon's face in his hands. "I love you," he whispered, leaning forward to kiss Brendon softly. Brendon hummed happily, sliding his hands down Ryan's back.
"I love you, too," Brendon answered, slipping off the counter. Ryan sighed again, linking his hand with Brendon's.
They walked out into the living room together. Spencer was sitting in his favorite chair, his face tired and ashen. Jon was seated on the floor in front of the TV, which was set to the evening news. The fading light of twilight was the only other thing lighting the room.
Ryan stopped next to Jon on his way to the couch. He reached a hand out to rest on Jon's shoulder, making Jon turn to look at him. "Thank you," he whispered.
Jon nodded and Ryan drew his hand back, going to join Brendon on the couch. He turned his attention to the TV where the news reporter was discussing the "violent riot which took place at the University of Las Vegas earlier today."
"Four people shot; one dead, two in critical condition." Spencer listed quietly. Ryan's eyes snapped up to Spencer's blank face. He'd always been able to read his friend pretty well.
"Spence?" he asked hesitantly. Spencer blinked, shaking his head like he was coming back to something.
"I wonder if I knew any of them."
Silence fell over the small crowd of friends, each lost in his own thoughts. Then Jon spoke suddenly. "A year and a half ago..." he started, stopped again, and then took a deep breath. "A year and a half ago I went to one of these sits. It was April, and in Chicago that means cold and wet. I remember that it was the first nice day we'd had for a while, and I was looking forward to taking pictures. So was Tom. Tommy... Tom Conrad, my best friend, my..." Jon trailed off, his eyes flickering to Ryan and Brendon on the couch. Ryan understood, and his heart sped up.
"It was a lot like today's rally. We just sat around, taking pictures of each other and talking. Then... then there was noise everywhere. It was hard to tell what was going on, stuff was flying everywhere. Then there was shooting. I didn't even know what was happening, but I couldn't find Tommy. We'd gotten pulled apart by the crowd." Jon's voice cracked, his eyes over bright. "By the time I'd got to him he'd been shot in the stomach. He died twenty six hours later."
Shocked silence fell over the room. Spencer slid of his chair so he was on the ground next to Jon. He reached out, linking his hand with Jon's, his eyes fixed on the older man's face. Jon smiled gratefully at him, and Ryan could see Jon's fingers close around Spencer's.
"Anyway. I couldn't stay in Chicago after that. So I sold our apartment and bought a car. I've been on the road since, hopping from protest to protest."
"What were you looking for?" Brendon asked quietly. He'd been so silent that Ryan actually jumped when Brendon spoke. He reached out to quickly grab Brendon's hand.
"I have no idea," Jon chuckled, a smile spreading across his face. However, his eyes flicked to Ryan's face.
"Did you find it?" Ryan's voice was quiet, husky.
"I think so. Maybe."
Ryan's eyes danced from Brendon to Spencer quickly, communicating silently. Brendon smirked slightly at him, and Spencer shrugged. Ryan nodded.
Spencer turned to Jon, squeezing his hand. "Stay with us? I think we've got an extra room now."
Ryan blushed slightly and Brendon chuckled. Jon just smiled. "You'll have me?"
"No, loser, we're going to throw you out into the street after you saved my life," Brendon said sarcastically, rolling his eyes.
Ryan chuckled lightly, smiling at his boy. Brendon matched his grin, starting to laugh softly himself. Spencer followed shortly after, and Jon just watched them all laughing, hand still locked with Spencer's as they all laughed around him. He smiled, letting out a small laugh himself.