What Would You Do if I Fell For You [Chapter 2/15]
Title: What Would You Do if I Fell For You , Chapter Two
Author: faceoffamex
Rating: NC17.
Pairing: ryden.
POV: third.
Summary: Because of the constant worry and the unstable state of his self consciousness, Brendon understood why it had taken Ryan so long for them to reach this kind of intimacy.
Warnings: MPEG ! sexual content, language.
Disclaimer: if i owned ryan ross and brendon urie, their sex tape would be out right now.
Beta: pavlovebby
Chapter One
Nervousness and excitement were two feelings that should never be mixed together. They gave off a squeamish feeling even to those of the strongest internal control. It offered a drag of nonexistent but constant tugs on your insides that was either compared to butterflies or a battle engaging inside you.
Ryan’s thin fingers spread over the imagined bump on his thin front. His cold fingertips ghosted over his too-pale stomach, trying to figure out just how he was going to get the explanation out. He wasn’t too worried. Or so he told himself he wasn’t. Neither of the boy’s had good experiences with families. With Brendon being a rebelling teenager and Ryan, well, with his unpleasant physical relationship with his father after his mother leaving, well, it wasn’t good either. So this was their chance to redo things. They could be the parents this time and they’d give a good life to a child that’d be part of both of them. He’d pictured the sight a bright, over brilliant smile on the face of a toddler mirroring every one of Brendon’s facial features. It brought a smile to his soft lips to think about the family aspects of what this would bring.
Ryan had always loved children. With them, it was okay to say something stupid. They weren’t going to rant on about how you’d done something wrong. They were different. He wanted to give a child time to actually be a kid. He never had that experience and Brendon seemed like he’d be such a great father. There wouldn’t be the stress or the challenges of having only one person want this, right?
Chewing on his flushed lower lip, he dropped his shirt and lifted his eyes to stare at the honey coloring that spread through them. Taking in a short breath, he turned away from the mirror and reached for the handle.
The minute his bare feet padded against the carpet, the nervousness over took the excitement. Ryan never was good at explaining things. There was a reason why he used lyrics to get past some of the more difficult parts of his life. But he was going to do this, one way or another.
Searching the apartment for the other boy, he eyes landed on the black material tightly covering Brendon’s back. Smiling with little fault, Ryan stepped forward with his fingers winding together to distract him from the rage of his churning stomach. His feet met the cold surface of the linoleum flooring, taking him to stand behind Brendon. They didn’t differ much in height, just a few inches. Looking over his shoulder at the assorted food Brendon was attempting to make, Ryan wove his thin arms around the older boy’s middle. His eyes closed and he rested his chin on Brendon’s broad shoulder; turning his face into his neck to inhale the bitter sweet scent clinging to his skin. He smiled softly, pressing a chaste kiss to the exposed skin, turning his face some to repeat the action in a different spot.
The tension that wove through Brendon’s muscles made Ryan pause with what he was doing. He pulled his face away from the warm curve of Brendon’s neck and craned his neck to take in the emotionless expression covering his face. He didn’t need an emotion to make it clear that something was wrong. His blood ran cold; icing up in his veins and blocking proper circulation. Ryan stepped away, threading his fingers together again and nervously darting his eyes to the floor. His jaw clenched, unsure of what he was about to hear.
Brendon turned slowly. His body moved almost mechanically. Stepping to the side, he leaned against the counter’s edge, slowly lifting his dark eyes to take in that nervous face. He could read the panic and for just a moment, he thought that Ryan might already know. But that was impossible. He’d done so well to conceal his feelings for the past week.
“Ryan, we need to talk.”
There was something about the way that those specific words aligned together to form that sentence always gave a feeling of dread. Swallowing past the tightening of his throat, he directed his soft, worried eyes up to wordlessly say he was already listening. His fingers hooked together, bending over one another to try and distract his raging thoughts. He needed room to listen.
Hearing Brendon take in a deep breath, his eyes dropped to the floor again as if it was the most interesting thing in the room. He studied the titling; marking where one ended and the next began. Brendon’s voice broke his concentration.
“We should stop. We should stop us. It’s not good, Ryan.” There was hardly a pause to take in the younger boy’s face. But it hadn’t changed. He was still staring at the floor, keeping any other emotion besides focus from his face. “We’re risking a lot more that we need to. The band. The music. Our friendship. It just makes for sense for us to be just friends, Ryan.”
Because it’s all he was every good at being. Long before this relationship had ever been considered; long before the band had gotten its confidence and had gotten signed, he’d been the best friend. Ryan had constantly told himself that that would always be his position. He wasn’t worth anything more. Brendon had been kind enough to spend parts of his busy life with Ryan. It was such a pity that Ryan had to listen to his own voice mockingly nagging its own ‘I told you so.’
It wasn’t possible for a heart to physically crack. It could stop working and cease you from life, but it wasn’t possible for a line to unevenly divide it in half. But Ryan swore he felt the centric production of his life rip apart. It wasn’t like an assembled piece. It couldn’t be replaced with the same make.
Each drunken hit from his father’s fists had screamed the chant that always slurred from those slow lips before he went into just using his hands to bring Ryan down. You are worthless.
Confidence was something he’d always lacked because of those three words. It had taken a full year to get him to the point of him accepting that it was okay for him to finally do something wrong. It took five minutes for a year’s work to be destroyed.
Searching his memory or anything that could of made Brendon change his mind about their relationship, he rushed through everything he could remember over the past four months. Had he made him wait too long? Had Ryan done something wrong when he had finally allowed them to sleep together? What was it? His eyes glanced toward a more central target. Brendon couldn’t know. There wasn’t any hinting at him being pregnant and the morning sickness had been far and few. Maybe it was just something he was over looking.
He knew Brendon was expecting something but he couldn’t bring himself to fully react just yet. He was frozen with the repeat of what Brendon had said skipping through his thoughts.
Swallowing, he directed his suddenly weighted eyes up. “Yeah,” he whispered; voice fighting the break from a tight throat. “Makes sense.” He lowered his eyes again, lifting his arms to fold it over his chest to prevent anything else from farther damage. He wasn’t sure what to do with himself. There wasn’t a chance that anything could fix this.
Now, telling Brendon he was pregnant felt like it’d only make things worse. Lifting his eyes again, he glanced over that beautiful face; the punishment of imagined pain coursed through his veins. Ryan turned away from the kitchen. Walking on limp legs, he carried himself to his bedroom. His bedroom. The one he hadn’t slept in for the past four months. He didn’t dare look over his shoulder to see if Brendon was watching him. He got behind the comfort of the closed door and leaned against the framing for support.
The sheets felt cold against his already heatless skin. There was no warmth in the blankets that attempted to cover his skin. It was late. Late enough for Ryan to try and sleep. He didn’t want to think. He wanted to shut down for a while and keep himself free of any thoughts over populating his mind. Thin, fragile fingers clasped at the blankets to try and warm him from the bitter cold that was surrounding his body.
The sun was gone. It had removed itself from his skies and left a bitter grey that darkened everything. He was left in the middle of it all, discoloring everything he touched.
Ryan closed his eyes tighter. He shivered through the cold, getting used to its harsh overhang. He turned off his internal thought, letting his body completely drown in silence. It was a comforting feeling. Turning slightly, he pressed his nose into the pillow his head was currently occupying. He ignored the way it screamed closure.
Waiting for rain in a desert was like waiting for your birthday. It normally happened just once a year or at least one time of year. With winter steadily approaching, the storms were getting more vigorous.
The dull ache of morning rising was greeted with a low roll of thunder shaking Ryan out of unconsciousness. His fingers grasped the cold sheets, recalling why he was in such an unfamiliar place. Opening his eyes to the dimly lit room, he turned to glance at the mocking glow of the alarm clock; a few minutes after six. He always did wake early. The horrendous growls of thunder had woken him earlier than normal.
Sitting up with an unsteady rush to his head, Ryan moved to clasp at his clammy forehead. He didn’t understand. He was freezing. There was no reason for him to be sweating.
The sway of his stomach said something else. Groaning, he threw the sheets off of himself and rushed to the bathroom. Cold, bare feet moved him noiselessly behind the comfort of the closed door. His knees hit the floor, easily bruising the too-boney bend of his body. His torso attempted to heave forward the content that wasn’t in his stomach. He hadn’t eaten much the previous night and now he was paying for it. The acid still burned his lips.
Leaning away from the toilet, he pressed his forehead to the cold rim of the bath tub. It felt good against his hot forehead while his raging thought seemed to warm the skin from underneath. Ryan stumbled into a standing position, reaching for his toothbrush. He worked feverishly to clean his mouth.
He’d made up his mind sometime last night. He was leaving; leaving Vegas to get a new start. In eight short months, everything was going to change. If he stayed, there was room for guilt and Ryan didn’t want that. He’d thought about plenty of things last night when his mind had finally slowed down enough to get some constructive thoughts out. Everything was thought up and done already. A replacement for when the tour came had already been arranged. Strangely enough, Ryan didn’t have much of a problem with his decision. It was for the better, anyway. He’d convinced himself that it was better for him to be absent. That made sense.
Walking quietly back to his room, he retrieved his suit case from the closet. Ryan never did have a lot of things he brought with him. The apartment had been Brendon’s in the first place. Most of what was there was his. Ryan just added on a few things.
He packed emotionlessly; easily cleaning out his room without much of a problem. Once the bed was stripped from his bedding and the few items he had to get from laying around the apartment were packed, he retrieved the leather journal tucked away in the drawer to his nightstand. Sitting at the edge of the bed, he put the pen to paper; writing the choppy words in his neat handwriting.
Ryan didn’t cry. He didn’t let things get too skin deep long enough to bug him. He’d never experienced heartbreak before but it took really loving someone to experience such a thing.
There was always a first for everything, even if it wasn’t a good first.
Brendon,
I’m not going to make this anything long and witty because I honestly believe I’m at a loss for knowing how to put words together and making them sound ‘beautiful’. You really know how to light up a room, you know. It’s not that you’re feeding off peoples’ energy. You provide their energy. We’re so different, Brendon. You know how to light up a room and I know how to be one of the crowd. It wasn’t me that became your friend. You became mine. My friend, I mean. The music was great. We really knew how to put scraps together and make them sound really great. I found someone else to take my place for the tour. He’s really good. Please give him a chance. He knows how to strum together something amazing better than I ever could. He’ll be at the next rehearsal and I already told the other guys.
No. This isn’t because of what happened between us. You just have to move on sometimes, you know? I’m done in Vegas. A new city sounds good right now. I’ll start over; get a small apartment and a job at some run down place just to get me by. I don’t need this, Brendon. Music was my rehab. I’m sober now and so is my dad. Maybe I’ll go back to Reno, I don’t know. You really shouldn’t worry about me. You’ve got more important things to deal with.
I should probably get down to this, so I guess here it is. You said you wanted to just be friends. Brendon, you have friends. So many friends. You have close friends and comfortable friends and so many people like you that I don’t know anyone that doesn’t like being around you. One less friend shouldn’t matter much. Numbers change. People change. It’s time for me to change. I want you to keep going on in this music industry and I want to be able to listen to you create amazing things. Because you’re amazing, Brendon. I know you can do it.
LoveSincerelyTalktoyoulater
Ryan.
Scribbling a line through all the failed attempts at a closure, he signed off with his name. It took him actually watching the drop stain the flawless white paper for the boy to realize he was giving in to the ache that was fighting over his body.
Ryan dropped the pen on the bed and tore the paper from the rings. Lifting a hand, he smeared the dampness across his cheeks while he gathered his few bags and rushed to the door. Brendon would wake up soon. It was nearly eleven. Maybe he’d drug out the time it had taken for him to get his things.
Dropping the bags to floor quietly, he set the paper down on the counter top. Ryan inhaled, stepping away and glancing toward the once comfortable confines of the apartment. His eyes landed on the picture frames; singling out one particular one. Stepping toward the entertainment system, he grabbed the frame with shaky hands. Turning it over and undoing the clasps. He retrieved the printed picture from inside, putting the frame away in the storage drawer on the dresser.
Stepping back to his bags, he unzipped a fold and turned the picture over. His eyes landed on the smile that was dominating his own face. Brendon’s lips, his nose, his chin; all pressed tightly to the side of Ryan’s face with the pure look of adoration covering his expression.
Inhaling deeply, he shoved the picture safely into the bag and gathered all the straps. Dragging them to the door, he set his key on the counter. This was it; a new start. He couldn’t go back and erase what had happened. He didn’t condone that much control. Maybe it was time to live a reckless life; be the teenager he never was.
Yeah. And maybe it was time he stopped lying to himself.
Author Notes: you know what. you all should reward me for giving you the next chapter early. actually, i just didn't want to wait. now, onto actually talking about the chapter. yup. i did it. oh, come on guys. did you really expect this to be a full and happy 'WHOOWHO RYAN'S PREGNANT' fic? it's me. next chapter will probably come tuesday :D
Author: faceoffamex
Rating: NC17.
Pairing: ryden.
POV: third.
Summary: Because of the constant worry and the unstable state of his self consciousness, Brendon understood why it had taken Ryan so long for them to reach this kind of intimacy.
Warnings: MPEG ! sexual content, language.
Disclaimer: if i owned ryan ross and brendon urie, their sex tape would be out right now.
Beta: pavlovebby
Chapter One
Nervousness and excitement were two feelings that should never be mixed together. They gave off a squeamish feeling even to those of the strongest internal control. It offered a drag of nonexistent but constant tugs on your insides that was either compared to butterflies or a battle engaging inside you.
Ryan’s thin fingers spread over the imagined bump on his thin front. His cold fingertips ghosted over his too-pale stomach, trying to figure out just how he was going to get the explanation out. He wasn’t too worried. Or so he told himself he wasn’t. Neither of the boy’s had good experiences with families. With Brendon being a rebelling teenager and Ryan, well, with his unpleasant physical relationship with his father after his mother leaving, well, it wasn’t good either. So this was their chance to redo things. They could be the parents this time and they’d give a good life to a child that’d be part of both of them. He’d pictured the sight a bright, over brilliant smile on the face of a toddler mirroring every one of Brendon’s facial features. It brought a smile to his soft lips to think about the family aspects of what this would bring.
Ryan had always loved children. With them, it was okay to say something stupid. They weren’t going to rant on about how you’d done something wrong. They were different. He wanted to give a child time to actually be a kid. He never had that experience and Brendon seemed like he’d be such a great father. There wouldn’t be the stress or the challenges of having only one person want this, right?
Chewing on his flushed lower lip, he dropped his shirt and lifted his eyes to stare at the honey coloring that spread through them. Taking in a short breath, he turned away from the mirror and reached for the handle.
The minute his bare feet padded against the carpet, the nervousness over took the excitement. Ryan never was good at explaining things. There was a reason why he used lyrics to get past some of the more difficult parts of his life. But he was going to do this, one way or another.
Searching the apartment for the other boy, he eyes landed on the black material tightly covering Brendon’s back. Smiling with little fault, Ryan stepped forward with his fingers winding together to distract him from the rage of his churning stomach. His feet met the cold surface of the linoleum flooring, taking him to stand behind Brendon. They didn’t differ much in height, just a few inches. Looking over his shoulder at the assorted food Brendon was attempting to make, Ryan wove his thin arms around the older boy’s middle. His eyes closed and he rested his chin on Brendon’s broad shoulder; turning his face into his neck to inhale the bitter sweet scent clinging to his skin. He smiled softly, pressing a chaste kiss to the exposed skin, turning his face some to repeat the action in a different spot.
The tension that wove through Brendon’s muscles made Ryan pause with what he was doing. He pulled his face away from the warm curve of Brendon’s neck and craned his neck to take in the emotionless expression covering his face. He didn’t need an emotion to make it clear that something was wrong. His blood ran cold; icing up in his veins and blocking proper circulation. Ryan stepped away, threading his fingers together again and nervously darting his eyes to the floor. His jaw clenched, unsure of what he was about to hear.
Brendon turned slowly. His body moved almost mechanically. Stepping to the side, he leaned against the counter’s edge, slowly lifting his dark eyes to take in that nervous face. He could read the panic and for just a moment, he thought that Ryan might already know. But that was impossible. He’d done so well to conceal his feelings for the past week.
“Ryan, we need to talk.”
There was something about the way that those specific words aligned together to form that sentence always gave a feeling of dread. Swallowing past the tightening of his throat, he directed his soft, worried eyes up to wordlessly say he was already listening. His fingers hooked together, bending over one another to try and distract his raging thoughts. He needed room to listen.
Hearing Brendon take in a deep breath, his eyes dropped to the floor again as if it was the most interesting thing in the room. He studied the titling; marking where one ended and the next began. Brendon’s voice broke his concentration.
“We should stop. We should stop us. It’s not good, Ryan.” There was hardly a pause to take in the younger boy’s face. But it hadn’t changed. He was still staring at the floor, keeping any other emotion besides focus from his face. “We’re risking a lot more that we need to. The band. The music. Our friendship. It just makes for sense for us to be just friends, Ryan.”
Because it’s all he was every good at being. Long before this relationship had ever been considered; long before the band had gotten its confidence and had gotten signed, he’d been the best friend. Ryan had constantly told himself that that would always be his position. He wasn’t worth anything more. Brendon had been kind enough to spend parts of his busy life with Ryan. It was such a pity that Ryan had to listen to his own voice mockingly nagging its own ‘I told you so.’
It wasn’t possible for a heart to physically crack. It could stop working and cease you from life, but it wasn’t possible for a line to unevenly divide it in half. But Ryan swore he felt the centric production of his life rip apart. It wasn’t like an assembled piece. It couldn’t be replaced with the same make.
Each drunken hit from his father’s fists had screamed the chant that always slurred from those slow lips before he went into just using his hands to bring Ryan down. You are worthless.
Confidence was something he’d always lacked because of those three words. It had taken a full year to get him to the point of him accepting that it was okay for him to finally do something wrong. It took five minutes for a year’s work to be destroyed.
Searching his memory or anything that could of made Brendon change his mind about their relationship, he rushed through everything he could remember over the past four months. Had he made him wait too long? Had Ryan done something wrong when he had finally allowed them to sleep together? What was it? His eyes glanced toward a more central target. Brendon couldn’t know. There wasn’t any hinting at him being pregnant and the morning sickness had been far and few. Maybe it was just something he was over looking.
He knew Brendon was expecting something but he couldn’t bring himself to fully react just yet. He was frozen with the repeat of what Brendon had said skipping through his thoughts.
Swallowing, he directed his suddenly weighted eyes up. “Yeah,” he whispered; voice fighting the break from a tight throat. “Makes sense.” He lowered his eyes again, lifting his arms to fold it over his chest to prevent anything else from farther damage. He wasn’t sure what to do with himself. There wasn’t a chance that anything could fix this.
Now, telling Brendon he was pregnant felt like it’d only make things worse. Lifting his eyes again, he glanced over that beautiful face; the punishment of imagined pain coursed through his veins. Ryan turned away from the kitchen. Walking on limp legs, he carried himself to his bedroom. His bedroom. The one he hadn’t slept in for the past four months. He didn’t dare look over his shoulder to see if Brendon was watching him. He got behind the comfort of the closed door and leaned against the framing for support.
The sheets felt cold against his already heatless skin. There was no warmth in the blankets that attempted to cover his skin. It was late. Late enough for Ryan to try and sleep. He didn’t want to think. He wanted to shut down for a while and keep himself free of any thoughts over populating his mind. Thin, fragile fingers clasped at the blankets to try and warm him from the bitter cold that was surrounding his body.
The sun was gone. It had removed itself from his skies and left a bitter grey that darkened everything. He was left in the middle of it all, discoloring everything he touched.
Ryan closed his eyes tighter. He shivered through the cold, getting used to its harsh overhang. He turned off his internal thought, letting his body completely drown in silence. It was a comforting feeling. Turning slightly, he pressed his nose into the pillow his head was currently occupying. He ignored the way it screamed closure.
Waiting for rain in a desert was like waiting for your birthday. It normally happened just once a year or at least one time of year. With winter steadily approaching, the storms were getting more vigorous.
The dull ache of morning rising was greeted with a low roll of thunder shaking Ryan out of unconsciousness. His fingers grasped the cold sheets, recalling why he was in such an unfamiliar place. Opening his eyes to the dimly lit room, he turned to glance at the mocking glow of the alarm clock; a few minutes after six. He always did wake early. The horrendous growls of thunder had woken him earlier than normal.
Sitting up with an unsteady rush to his head, Ryan moved to clasp at his clammy forehead. He didn’t understand. He was freezing. There was no reason for him to be sweating.
The sway of his stomach said something else. Groaning, he threw the sheets off of himself and rushed to the bathroom. Cold, bare feet moved him noiselessly behind the comfort of the closed door. His knees hit the floor, easily bruising the too-boney bend of his body. His torso attempted to heave forward the content that wasn’t in his stomach. He hadn’t eaten much the previous night and now he was paying for it. The acid still burned his lips.
Leaning away from the toilet, he pressed his forehead to the cold rim of the bath tub. It felt good against his hot forehead while his raging thought seemed to warm the skin from underneath. Ryan stumbled into a standing position, reaching for his toothbrush. He worked feverishly to clean his mouth.
He’d made up his mind sometime last night. He was leaving; leaving Vegas to get a new start. In eight short months, everything was going to change. If he stayed, there was room for guilt and Ryan didn’t want that. He’d thought about plenty of things last night when his mind had finally slowed down enough to get some constructive thoughts out. Everything was thought up and done already. A replacement for when the tour came had already been arranged. Strangely enough, Ryan didn’t have much of a problem with his decision. It was for the better, anyway. He’d convinced himself that it was better for him to be absent. That made sense.
Walking quietly back to his room, he retrieved his suit case from the closet. Ryan never did have a lot of things he brought with him. The apartment had been Brendon’s in the first place. Most of what was there was his. Ryan just added on a few things.
He packed emotionlessly; easily cleaning out his room without much of a problem. Once the bed was stripped from his bedding and the few items he had to get from laying around the apartment were packed, he retrieved the leather journal tucked away in the drawer to his nightstand. Sitting at the edge of the bed, he put the pen to paper; writing the choppy words in his neat handwriting.
Ryan didn’t cry. He didn’t let things get too skin deep long enough to bug him. He’d never experienced heartbreak before but it took really loving someone to experience such a thing.
There was always a first for everything, even if it wasn’t a good first.
Brendon,
I’m not going to make this anything long and witty because I honestly believe I’m at a loss for knowing how to put words together and making them sound ‘beautiful’. You really know how to light up a room, you know. It’s not that you’re feeding off peoples’ energy. You provide their energy. We’re so different, Brendon. You know how to light up a room and I know how to be one of the crowd. It wasn’t me that became your friend. You became mine. My friend, I mean. The music was great. We really knew how to put scraps together and make them sound really great. I found someone else to take my place for the tour. He’s really good. Please give him a chance. He knows how to strum together something amazing better than I ever could. He’ll be at the next rehearsal and I already told the other guys.
No. This isn’t because of what happened between us. You just have to move on sometimes, you know? I’m done in Vegas. A new city sounds good right now. I’ll start over; get a small apartment and a job at some run down place just to get me by. I don’t need this, Brendon. Music was my rehab. I’m sober now and so is my dad. Maybe I’ll go back to Reno, I don’t know. You really shouldn’t worry about me. You’ve got more important things to deal with.
I should probably get down to this, so I guess here it is. You said you wanted to just be friends. Brendon, you have friends. So many friends. You have close friends and comfortable friends and so many people like you that I don’t know anyone that doesn’t like being around you. One less friend shouldn’t matter much. Numbers change. People change. It’s time for me to change. I want you to keep going on in this music industry and I want to be able to listen to you create amazing things. Because you’re amazing, Brendon. I know you can do it.
LoveSincerelyTalktoyoulater
Ryan.
Scribbling a line through all the failed attempts at a closure, he signed off with his name. It took him actually watching the drop stain the flawless white paper for the boy to realize he was giving in to the ache that was fighting over his body.
Ryan dropped the pen on the bed and tore the paper from the rings. Lifting a hand, he smeared the dampness across his cheeks while he gathered his few bags and rushed to the door. Brendon would wake up soon. It was nearly eleven. Maybe he’d drug out the time it had taken for him to get his things.
Dropping the bags to floor quietly, he set the paper down on the counter top. Ryan inhaled, stepping away and glancing toward the once comfortable confines of the apartment. His eyes landed on the picture frames; singling out one particular one. Stepping toward the entertainment system, he grabbed the frame with shaky hands. Turning it over and undoing the clasps. He retrieved the printed picture from inside, putting the frame away in the storage drawer on the dresser.
Stepping back to his bags, he unzipped a fold and turned the picture over. His eyes landed on the smile that was dominating his own face. Brendon’s lips, his nose, his chin; all pressed tightly to the side of Ryan’s face with the pure look of adoration covering his expression.
Inhaling deeply, he shoved the picture safely into the bag and gathered all the straps. Dragging them to the door, he set his key on the counter. This was it; a new start. He couldn’t go back and erase what had happened. He didn’t condone that much control. Maybe it was time to live a reckless life; be the teenager he never was.
Yeah. And maybe it was time he stopped lying to himself.
Author Notes: you know what. you all should reward me for giving you the next chapter early. actually, i just didn't want to wait. now, onto actually talking about the chapter. yup. i did it. oh, come on guys. did you really expect this to be a full and happy 'WHOOWHO RYAN'S PREGNANT' fic? it's me. next chapter will probably come tuesday :D