part 2
Panic! went to bed earlier the night before so that they could get some shopping done in a mall they found in Lancaster. Zack is asleep, and all the roadies aren’t particularly bothered by going, so they all hoof it before anyone tells them it’s stupid to go alone. Brendon goes with them because he doesn’t like the idea of being on his own.
Plus, Ryan urged him to come along so that he could buy Brendon some clothes. What Brendon owned was pitiful and appalling.
Brendon’s in high spirits, chatting and laughing at a joke Brent makes. And then he changes the subject to music, and Ryan is surprised to find out how much Brendon actually knows about the subject.
“Yeah, I love that bit where you have the A C F minor A minor bit, right, but I think that maybe you should of done it with another A major, right, and then you should have accompanied it by doing the opposite on the piano, you know, A minor C major because that would sound awesome! And Spencer, when you go from a 4/4 beat to a 2/4 beat and then into that groovy swing rhythm. God, I love it.”
It's only when Ryan tries the little part Brendon talked about in his head he realises that, yeah, it actually does sound better than what they wrote. Huh.
Although Ryan can see that Brendon is laughing, he can still see how tense the boy is, how he glances around every so often as if to remind himself that he can get out if he can. He is being jolly but Ryan’s sure he isn’t being 100% Brendon, whatever that is.
Ryan isn’t too surprised. Brendon’s a hitchhiker, not their best friend. He wouldn’t want to show all of himself, now would he?
They take Brendon to a clothes store, one fancy enough that Ryan agrees to it, but cheap enough that Brendon doesn’t feel bad.
They pick out three t-shirts, a five pack of boxers, eight pairs of socks and two pairs of trousers for him, enough that he can get by. Brendon pulls on his new gear with pride, profusely thanking everyone. He looks so overwhelmed that Ryan thinks the emaciated boy might cry, and when Ryan pulls him to the side and asks him if he’s okay, Brendon’s eyes shine and he beatifically whispers “I've never had new clothes to wear before.” And Ryan wonders just how bad Brendon’s home life was.
They eat lunch in a small café on the outskirts of the mall, shoving sandwiches and brightly coloured drinks in Brendon’s direction. Brendon eats three sandwiches and about a litre of Fanta before he groans and protests about eating anymore.
Whenever Brendon catches Ryan staring at him he blushes and gives a shy smile back, one that Ryan’s sure he’s never shown any of the rest of the band. It makes butterflies twirl in his stomach and Ryan isn’t so stupid as to not know what the nervous, happy feeling is.
He has a crush on a fifteen year-old homeless person.
Well, Ryan’s never backed away from the drama spotlight before, and he isn’t going to start now.
What spurs him on, really, is how Brendon doesn’t seem to mind that Ryan absently stares at him, or that Ryan grins at him at random intervals. In fact, he revels in the attention.
Ryan figures no-one paid much attention to him before.
They get back to the bus at around three, so that by that time Zack is awake (and pretty pissed off that they left without him, but it's not like they were molested by stampeding fangirls) they can move on to the venue for sound-checking.
Brendon is in awe. “You guys were like my favourite band, and now you're letting me like, hang out with you backstage and I get to see you play for nothing. That’s so cool!” he says earnestly to Jon, who laughs in that cool and relaxed way that makes everyone around him feel more awesome by osmosis. Or something.
“Wow, you must have really liked us. Why didn’t you come see us beforehand? We’re constantly on tour…”
Jon trails off, seeing the closed off look Brendon’s face gets at the sentence. Ryan winces; he knows that Jon was just making conversation.
Brendon doesn’t speak again until they’re about to go onstage and all he says is, “Good luck, Ryan,” quietly, and then high-fives him and moves off. Ryan hopes that the special attention he gets means as much to Brendon as it does to him.
Spencer quirks an eyebrow at Ryan, silently communicating to him about Brendon’s behaviour, but Ryan just blushes and casts his eyes to the floor. That tells Spencer everything he needs to know. He tightens his grip on his drumsticks and then strolls leisurely onstage, leaving the rest of them to follow out behind him.
They always go in order, Spencer first, to set up a rolling beat for the others, then Brent, to add the thrumming bass to Spencer’s part. Jon’s out next walking onto the stage and getting the crowd riled up by clapping his hands and then grabbing a tambourine and shaking it in time to Spencer’s beat.
Ryan’s last, because Ryan’s the front man, the ‘love interest’, as the critics say. Ryan doesn’t particularly care about the label, because it’s not like he’s going to be banging any under-aged fans anytime soon. Possibly.
When Ryan’s situated comfortably in front of the microphone Jon puts down the tambourine and puts his fingers on the frets, jumping straight into ‘Lazy Man’s Fears’ before immediately following it up with ‘Little Do They Know’, like it does on their new record.
From the side of the stage Ryan can see Brendon’s smile, and Ryan’s day gets a whole lot better. As if the rush of playing in front of three thousand people wasn’t enough or something.
When the songs finish, Ryan greets the crowd before jumping into an old one. Earlier, while Brendon was in the toilet, the band had discussed their set list, and they had decided to play more of their older material than they usually would, so Brendon could sing along and generally have the best time of his life. He deserves it.
When they come off, an hour and a half later, Brendon breathlessly tells them they are amazing and then proceeds to hug them one by one, the tension from beforehand seemingly forgotten. Brendon hugs Ryan longest of all of them and then continues to hold Ryan’s hand after they separate. It doesn’t go unnoticed amongst the others.
“He’s in looove with you!” Brent whispers childishly to him when Brendon isn’t listening. Ryan rolls his eyes. It's not true, obviously, but there’s attraction between the two of them, definitely.
Brendon clutches Ryan’s hand as they fight through the crowd of fans, which Ryan will hate to talk about when it comes up in their next interview. The girls scream at the sight, obviously thinking that Ryan has a love interest. ‘The rumours are true, Ryan Ross is gay!’ But the reality is Brendon is fucking terrified of the sheer numbers of people.
His hand clenches around Ryan’s to the point where it has passed ‘rather uncomfortable’ and is now verging on ‘shit, I think my hand is going to literally fall off’ which Ryan doesn’t mind as such, because the terrified look on Brendon’s face makes him feel like it’s his fault.
Brendon’s palm is sweaty as Ryan signs autographs, and when a girl lunges at Ryan he flinches, so hard he takes several steps back as if he’s scared he’s going to get hurt. By the time Zack pries Ryan from the girls Brendon is shaking so hard Ryan almost thinks he might snap.
They tumble onto the bus and Brendon gasps, like he hasn’t taken a single breath since they went into the crowd.
“Shit. Shit, fuck. Oh, god,” he whimpers, his hands on his knees. He’s hyperventilating, to the bands shock. They know what it's like, the claustrophobic feel of hands grasping out trying to get to them, but they’ve never acted like this, not one of them. It scares them all.
Ryan meets Spencer eyes, who subtly tells him to get him alone and calm him down and Ryan nods, gently leading the young boy to the bunk area. He sits Brendon down on his own bunk and rubs his back lightly, making light soothing noises and slowly Brendon’s breathing becomes less harsh.
“Sorry,” Brendon chokes out, pulling away from Ryan and curling his arms around himself. He looks so alone.
“Hey,” Ryan says, reaching towards the boy, but Brendon shuffles out the way so Ryan can't touch him. Ryan frowns, but carries on talking. “We don’t mind, honest. It’s pretty horrible, especially if you’ve never experienced it before. It’s oka-”
“No, fuck! It’s not okay!” Brendon yells, standing up suddenly. “You don’t understand what it's like for me alright? You don’t know me, and you never will. Fuck, we’ll only see each other for three more days and then I'm gone!”
Yeah, Ryan had forgotten about that until now.
Brendon continues, hands flying out around him. “You don’t understand what it was like for me, because you never knew me then. Fucking shit, stop pretending you care! It's not my fault if I'm not perfect okay? I can't help the fact that I have problems so just fuck off and leave me alone!”
Ryan is taken aback. “Brendon, I was just trying to calm you down, I don’t have anything against you. And you don’t have problems,” -although, this clearly isn’t true- “please just sit down and take deep breaths, explain what's wrong.”
The boy slumps, like all the fight has gone out of him. He shuffles to the edge of the bunk and sits down, head in his hands.
Ryan pressed minutely closer to Brendon, who sobs lightly- a small hitch of breath that he desperately tries to cover.
The older man sits silently with the boy until he is contained enough to speak.
“I was bullied at school,” Brendon starts and somehow, Ryan knows this isn’t going to end well.
“My brothers and sisters had been popular and my parents loved them, but when it came to me, they were more than unimpressed. I was pretty reclusive and it showed. I didn’t have any friends because no-one wanted to be my friend. I was teased all the damn time, because I had ADHD and I wore glasses and I was geeky about music. ‘Oh Brendon Boyd Urie, your name is almost as stupid as yourself!’” he mimics, lip curling. “I hated interacting with people because of it, and now I have a mild phobia of large crowds.”
Well, that explains why Brendon reacted the way he did.
“My parents were pissed off by the fact that I was unpopular, because they thought I had to be as good as the rest of my siblings. When it became clear that I wasn’t they put me down constantly, so by the time I was ten I had absolutely no self confidence.”
He shudders, a tear leaking out the side of his face and Ryan curls an arm around him. Brendon doesn’t lean into Ryan’s side. He sits still, tense.
“I became something of a slave to my family. I wasn’t good enough to be a son so they told me to do stuff for them all the time. I was like the fucking modern day Cinderella. I had to wake up at six, every day without fail, get dressed and then make breakfast for the family- lunches also on weekdays. Then I would wait for them to all get up and only when they had all eaten would I be allowed to eat anything. It fucking sucked because some days my brothers, Mason especially, would leave eating till the last minute so I wouldn’t be able to have anything before I was taken to school. Then when I got home I would do my homework, the washing, ironing, and I would cook dinner for the family.
“I did it because I thought if I was perfect when doing chores it would make my parents love me, but it didn’t.” Brendon chokes on his breath and Ryan feels so useless. What kind of fucked up family was this? “There was nothing I could do to make them happy. My grades were amazing, except this one time, when I got a D in math and my parents were so angry with me that my dad hit me and I wasn’t allowed to have dinner for four days, even though I still had to make it. I was a slave and I was so unhappy and I just wanted to have someone to care for me like real parents should. I didn’t, I don’t understand why they were so harsh on me. I did everything right, but it wasn’t enough!
“I just wanted to be myself. I just wanted to be happy,” Brendon sobs finally, finally turning his body into Ryan’s arms. “I just wanted to be the same person I always was and just be loved for it, instead of feeling like a failure all the time. I just wanted to be free.”
Ryan is almost crying himself. He doesn’t know what to say. Sure, his home life was pretty bad compared to others but at least he had Spencer and his freedom.
“So I left. Stole all the cash available in the house, packed a bag and waited until it was night and then I caught the first train out of the city. It used up all the money I had brought with me, so by the time I managed to get out I was penniless. I've spent the past seven months trying to get to New York- as far away as possible, so I could start a new life on my own. And yeah, I don’t have anything to eat and I'm still so fucking lonely it hurts but I'm free. I'm still working on the happy.”
Ryan is stunned. So utterly stunned. He doesn’t know what to do.
What do you do when presented with a situation such as this?
A fifteen year old boy he barely knows has just poured out his entire wretched life story to him and is now shaking with the effort of not crying. His bones still stick out from the surface of his skin and he’s so small, so delicate.
Breakable.
Ryan moves on instinct. He gently grasps Brendon’s cheek and guides it until it’s facing his own. Brendon’s eyes are red and puffy and his bottom lip is swollen from him biting it too hard to keep himself from crying. Ryan searches Brendon’s face, his eyes, before his own flutter shut and he presses his lips lightly to Brendon’s.
Brendon doesn’t react and Ryan pulls back, scared that he’s done something wrong. On Brendon’s face is a look of awe and the younger boy reaches up and presses his fingertips to his mouth, as if he can't believe that just happened.
“That was my first kiss,” Brendon says dreamily before he pushes forward to connect them once more.
Brendon kisses badly. It's not really his fault, like he said; he’s never been kissed before. But he does so with such enthusiasm and heartbreaking delight that Ryan doesn’t care a bit. His lips are soft and the arms that are wrapped around Ryan’s neck make him feel more grounded than he has in months.
Brendon kisses badly, but that doesn’t mean it’s not perfect.
When they break apart for air Brendon’s lips are swollen for an entirely different reason, and Ryan is pretty sure he looks similarly wrecked.
“Thank you. Thank you, thank you, thank you,” Brendon mumbles in a seemingly never-ending stream against Ryan’s neck. The warm puffs of air moving his hair.
“Thank you for making me matter to you.”
In return Ryan grasps him closer.
*
It's day three of Brendon’s occupation of the tour bus and it’s raining. The band is lounging around inside playing Halo on their PS3. Brendon sucks at it, he’s the worst player Ryan has ever seen, but Ryan guesses he’s never had the chance to hang out and play games like these. He really doubts Brendon’s even picked up a controller before.
It’s a pretty sad thought.
Then Brendon laughs and Ryan snaps back to reality, watching as Spencer jokingly pushes Brendon over whilst still trying to play and Brendon shoves back teasingly, teeth white and flashing.
It’s then that it hits Ryan. Brendon’s leaving tomorrow. He’s never going to see the boy again. Ryan doesn’t want to let him go.
While the others play on, Ryan skulks back into the bunk area, mumbling about working on lyrics. Instead he just stares blankly at the bunk above him and tries to control the small but prominent ache in his chest. He keeps trying to tell himself that he shouldn’t feel like this, he’s known the teenager less than two days, but Ryan thinks it’s more than that.
See, the thing is, Ryan thinks Brendon deserves more than what he has. He’s a beautiful person, inside and out, and he shouldn’t have had the upbringing he did. Ryan wants to hold him close and cuddle him when Brendon’s upset and never let him go. Because he deserves love, and Ryan could give that to him in bucket loads. They all could, they all love him.
A door shuts quietly, and Ryan looks up. It's Spencer, who then sits down facing Ryan on the opposite bunk. He’s quiet for a second before speaking up.
“I know what you want to do Ryan, and I think we both know you can't. You can't control him like his parents did, even if it's for different reasons. You want to confine him in order to make him happy, and keep him from going out there and doing what he set out to do in the first place. I'm sorry, Ry, but you have got to let him do what he wants to do.”
He’s not going to be overdramatic and say it kills him inside when Ryan nods and says “I know, Spin. I know that.” But the ache in his chest gets a whole lot more painful.
When Brendon comes into the bunk room half an hour later, Ryan pulls him into a hug and kisses him hard, as if trying to ground him into Ryan himself so that Brendon can never escape.
*
They’re arriving in New York in four hours and Brendon is twitching with excitement. Ryan doesn’t want to let him go.
He feels that he could take care of Brendon; he could do what his parents failed to. Sure, he’s only five years older but he can show love. He could make him happy.
But Spencer’s right. Brendon left home so he could have freedom, and Ryan isn’t going to get in the way of that.
Instead, he goes and hides himself in his bunk and refuses to speak to anyone, pretending to be working when in fact he’s just trying as hard as he can not to cry. Spencer understands and quietly refuses to let anyone talk to Ryan, saying that he is working hard on lyrics and doesn’t want to be disturbed. Ryan feels a tangible lump in his throat and chest when he sees Brendon’s upset face as Spencer slowly guides him away.
*
They stop at the venue, for convenience. Brendon has packed all of his new things into a bag Jon leant him, and he has one of Brent’s hats firmly placed on his head. He looks so scared and Ryan wishes that he hadn't spent the last day with Brendon moping around about the fact that Brendon was leaving. He’s such a fucking idiot.
“Well,” Brendon says, scuffing the floor of the bus with the toe of his ratty shoe. “I just wanted to say you guys have been awesome and I just wanted to thank you for letting me stay with you guys and yeah. It's been the best time of my life. Really.”
Ryan doesn’t doubt it.
Everyone around them gives murmurs of assent, before Jon steps forward and pulls Brendon into a huge hug, practically dwarfing the boy. Jon whispers something into Brendon’s ear and the boy snickers, patting Jon on the back before letting go. He repeats the process with the rest of the band and all the roadies, even Zack, who’s one scary motherfucker.
When Brendon reaches Ryan, it's Brendon who pulls him into the hug, not the other way round and he grasps Ryan fiercely. “Thank you so much. I’ll miss you the most. Thank you, thank you, thank you,” he mutters into Ryan’s ear, and all Ryan can think of to say is ‘I love you, I love you’ but instead he says “I miss you already,” because it's almost the same thing.
Brendon waves one last time and then he’s out the door, gone.
Everyone stands in silence, slowly digesting the fact that the boy who wormed his way into their lives is gone, and all Ryan can think is ‘Oh God, I should have stopped him, I could have stopped him, I don’t care if it’s selfish I want him back, I should have stopped him,’ an endless litany of regret. The ache in his chest intensifies, and although Ryan doesn’t think his heart is broken, there’s a definite crack that runs firmly down the middle.
*
It's eight months later, and Panic are back in New York. Ryan doesn’t expect to find Brendon there, he’s long gone.
On the off chance, Ryan buys one of the local papers and on the third page there’s an article about a murder that happened in Central Park.
“Four nights ago a body was found in Central Park, that had been shot twice in the back and had all belongings stolen from the teenager. Forensics have finally managed to identify the body as Brendon Urie, a sixteen-year-old who went missing from his home in Las Vegas fourteen months ago. All sources show that the boy has been homeless since Urie left his family. His parents, when asked, refused to give any information, but information shows that the Urie’s did not take the body home in order to bury it. The body will be kept under investigation for another three days.”
Ryan feels sick, and he rushes to the bus’ toilet before throwing up the entire contents of his stomach.
*
Ryan and Spencer pose as cousins of Brendon in order to get into the morgue.
When they get there Brendon looks almost exactly the same- maybe a little taller, a little less skinny. He’s paler than he was back then, the energetic flush that seemed almost permanently on his cheeks is gone.
Ryan tries so hard to keep it together. He never expected them to meet again; of course he didn’t, but his imagination always conjured images of them meeting again you know, alive.
Beside him, Spencer clutches Ryan’s hand, hard to stop his own from shaking. But cautiously Ryan releases his hand from Spencer’s grip and walks closer to the body, so his hand is almost touching Brendon’s face.
It's like a wave that crashes over him, a wave that one would think would consist of pain, but Ryan’s lived through that for far too long. He’s been living with an ache in his chest for eight months now; pain doesn’t really affect him like it used to.
No, the emotion that he feels so strongly is contentment, because although Brendon is stiller than he ever was in real life, he looks happy. And that’s all Brendon really wanted in the first place.
So Brendon may not have got what he deserved, but in the end he got the freedom and the joy he had left to search for in the first place.
Ryan leans forward and presses a kiss to Brendon’s forehead, and another on Brendon’s lips before stepping back and linking his hand with Spencer’s again. He’s crying, of course he is, but the ache that has resided in his chest for too long lessens slightly.
He’s happy now, and that’s all that matters.