If at First You Don't Succeed... (But Trying Gets Too Hard) [1/?]
Title: If at First You Don't Succeed... (But Trying Gets Too Hard) [1/?]
Author: gothicduckie6
Rating: PG-13 for now
Pairing: Implied Brendon/Ryan, but some thrown in parts of Spencer/Jon
POV: Third, all members of the band.
Summary: I miss my sun. I’ve come to learn he’ll never come out and sing with me. All Brendon wants is for Ryan to see him for who he really is.
Disclaimer: Written at random parts of the day. The title is taken from something, but the last part, I think, is my doing.
Author Notes: This is me, actually writing. I've lurked long enough, actually, so I decided to attempt writing. This came to me in that post waking up state, when your mind is still dreaming as you attempt to wake up. It was random, and it didn't last long, and the ideas I wrote down while half asleep were hard to read, but I think it's quite alright-ish. Comment are love. <3 Oh, and the writing may be a little rough, but honestly, Ryan Ross is one hard kid to write. It gets better, I hope!
Looking back at the whole thing, he could not tell you where the problems started. Sure, Brendon’s attitude had changed, but that might have been because winter was starting, and Brendon was just like that. But when he started missing band practices, Jon mentioned it, but Ryan blew it off. When he stopped giving his all on stage, Spencer mentioned it, but, again, Ryan blew it off. When the tour ended, he went home to Keltie and Hobo, and life was good. He never heard from Brendon, but he never thought of it. When he talked to Spencer and Jon, the lead singer would come into the conversation, but Ryan blew that off too.
So when the next tour started, and Brendon was an hour later getting his things onto the bus, Ryan went off on him. Brendon, bless his soul, stood there and took it for all of five minutes before Jon came out, put his arm around Brendon, and led him to the bunks, leaving a fuming Ryan in their wake.
That was when Ryan began to notice the small things. Like, Brendon wouldn’t stay up to watch Aladdin into the wee hours of the morning, he didn’t take two hours getting dressed, he stopped eating his favorite cereal, and instead of Red Bull, he drank nothing but water. When they would play When the Day Met the Night every few nights, Brendon wouldn’t look at him. Sure, he would sing the song, and damn well, but as Ryan would stand there playing, he could tell Brendon hated it.
But, he blew it off.
So one day, it came as a surprise to him when Jon barged into the bunk area, threw open his curtain, and told him Brendon was missing. He had just gotten off the phone with Keltie, and was ready to call it a night. They hadn’t played her song that night, so he had to spend extra time talking to her. Plus, performing took a lot out of him. So, to no surprise, he blinked at Jon, asking, “What?”
Jon glared at him. “Read this, then fucking get dressed. Five minutes, Ross.” The bass player tossed a crumpled note besides him and closed the curtain. Ryan stared at the note, dumbfounded. Brendon missing? It didn’t make sense. Sure, the lead singer had a pained look on his face the entire night, but when Ryan asked him about it, Brendon has told him it was because he didn’t feel good, so Ryan left it alone. Unfolding the note he read:
Sorry guys;
I really am. And if you see me again, you can beat the shit out of me, I promise. I need out though. Believe me, it pains me more than you would want to know to be writing this, and some of you may know, but I have to. I still have my phone. I love you all.
Brendon
P.s. Ryan, look under your pillow
Now, beyond confused, Ryan threw a hand under his pillow, fingers latching onto a small strip of paper. Opening it, his heart sank.
I miss my sun. I’ve come to learn he’ll never come out and sing with me.
“Shit.” Leaping out of his bunk, he ran to the front lounge, only to find his other band members in his current state. Jon sat bent over on the couch, phone to his ear, speaking quietly. Spencer locked eyes with Ryan from his spot next to Jon, his face void of emotion. Turning back, Ryan got dressed, like he was told, and when he returned, their positions were pretty much the same. Leaning against the counter, Ryan didn’t have to wait long before Jon was off the phone, looking down at the ground before glaring up at Ryan.
“This is all your fault,” he heard Jon say minutes later.
“How the fuck-”
“DON’T GIVE ME THAT BULLSHIT RIGHT NOW, RYAN ROSS!”
Ryan went silent as Spencer rested a hand against Jon’s back, rubbing small circles, his own face now distraught.
“He’s sitting in a rental car, on a bridge, contemplating driving away or getting out and jumping off. Because of you, Ryan. Because you were too fucking caught up in your own little petty problems to realize that your best friend is thinking about taking his own life because you were to dense to realize he-”
“Stop, Jon,” Spencer cut him off, looking at Ryan, who had his fists clinched and his jaw set, like he wanted to punch something. Or someone. “Let Brendon tell him later,” he added, not looking away from Jon until he agreed, and when he did, the younger man collapsed into the bass player, his own worried tears leaking from his eyes.
“So we just wait?”
Jon let out an angry laugh. “Yeah. Either he walks through that door in two hours or not. I have him that long to think things through, at least.”
Ryan stood there for a moment, before reaching into his pocket, grabbing his own Sidekick. Before he could even think about texting Brendon, Jon was standing right in front of him, a look of pure fury clearly written onto his face. For a moment, Ryan thought Jon was going to hit him, but instead, he took the phone from the younger man’s hand, whispering a, “Don’t you ever fucking dare,” before going back to console Spencer, who had not looked up the entire time.
This, Ryan thought to himself, was going to be a long two hours.
Author: gothicduckie6
Rating: PG-13 for now
Pairing: Implied Brendon/Ryan, but some thrown in parts of Spencer/Jon
POV: Third, all members of the band.
Summary: I miss my sun. I’ve come to learn he’ll never come out and sing with me. All Brendon wants is for Ryan to see him for who he really is.
Disclaimer: Written at random parts of the day. The title is taken from something, but the last part, I think, is my doing.
Author Notes: This is me, actually writing. I've lurked long enough, actually, so I decided to attempt writing. This came to me in that post waking up state, when your mind is still dreaming as you attempt to wake up. It was random, and it didn't last long, and the ideas I wrote down while half asleep were hard to read, but I think it's quite alright-ish. Comment are love. <3 Oh, and the writing may be a little rough, but honestly, Ryan Ross is one hard kid to write. It gets better, I hope!
Looking back at the whole thing, he could not tell you where the problems started. Sure, Brendon’s attitude had changed, but that might have been because winter was starting, and Brendon was just like that. But when he started missing band practices, Jon mentioned it, but Ryan blew it off. When he stopped giving his all on stage, Spencer mentioned it, but, again, Ryan blew it off. When the tour ended, he went home to Keltie and Hobo, and life was good. He never heard from Brendon, but he never thought of it. When he talked to Spencer and Jon, the lead singer would come into the conversation, but Ryan blew that off too.
So when the next tour started, and Brendon was an hour later getting his things onto the bus, Ryan went off on him. Brendon, bless his soul, stood there and took it for all of five minutes before Jon came out, put his arm around Brendon, and led him to the bunks, leaving a fuming Ryan in their wake.
That was when Ryan began to notice the small things. Like, Brendon wouldn’t stay up to watch Aladdin into the wee hours of the morning, he didn’t take two hours getting dressed, he stopped eating his favorite cereal, and instead of Red Bull, he drank nothing but water. When they would play When the Day Met the Night every few nights, Brendon wouldn’t look at him. Sure, he would sing the song, and damn well, but as Ryan would stand there playing, he could tell Brendon hated it.
But, he blew it off.
So one day, it came as a surprise to him when Jon barged into the bunk area, threw open his curtain, and told him Brendon was missing. He had just gotten off the phone with Keltie, and was ready to call it a night. They hadn’t played her song that night, so he had to spend extra time talking to her. Plus, performing took a lot out of him. So, to no surprise, he blinked at Jon, asking, “What?”
Jon glared at him. “Read this, then fucking get dressed. Five minutes, Ross.” The bass player tossed a crumpled note besides him and closed the curtain. Ryan stared at the note, dumbfounded. Brendon missing? It didn’t make sense. Sure, the lead singer had a pained look on his face the entire night, but when Ryan asked him about it, Brendon has told him it was because he didn’t feel good, so Ryan left it alone. Unfolding the note he read:
Sorry guys;
I really am. And if you see me again, you can beat the shit out of me, I promise. I need out though. Believe me, it pains me more than you would want to know to be writing this, and some of you may know, but I have to. I still have my phone. I love you all.
Brendon
P.s. Ryan, look under your pillow
Now, beyond confused, Ryan threw a hand under his pillow, fingers latching onto a small strip of paper. Opening it, his heart sank.
I miss my sun. I’ve come to learn he’ll never come out and sing with me.
“Shit.” Leaping out of his bunk, he ran to the front lounge, only to find his other band members in his current state. Jon sat bent over on the couch, phone to his ear, speaking quietly. Spencer locked eyes with Ryan from his spot next to Jon, his face void of emotion. Turning back, Ryan got dressed, like he was told, and when he returned, their positions were pretty much the same. Leaning against the counter, Ryan didn’t have to wait long before Jon was off the phone, looking down at the ground before glaring up at Ryan.
“This is all your fault,” he heard Jon say minutes later.
“How the fuck-”
“DON’T GIVE ME THAT BULLSHIT RIGHT NOW, RYAN ROSS!”
Ryan went silent as Spencer rested a hand against Jon’s back, rubbing small circles, his own face now distraught.
“He’s sitting in a rental car, on a bridge, contemplating driving away or getting out and jumping off. Because of you, Ryan. Because you were too fucking caught up in your own little petty problems to realize that your best friend is thinking about taking his own life because you were to dense to realize he-”
“Stop, Jon,” Spencer cut him off, looking at Ryan, who had his fists clinched and his jaw set, like he wanted to punch something. Or someone. “Let Brendon tell him later,” he added, not looking away from Jon until he agreed, and when he did, the younger man collapsed into the bass player, his own worried tears leaking from his eyes.
“So we just wait?”
Jon let out an angry laugh. “Yeah. Either he walks through that door in two hours or not. I have him that long to think things through, at least.”
Ryan stood there for a moment, before reaching into his pocket, grabbing his own Sidekick. Before he could even think about texting Brendon, Jon was standing right in front of him, a look of pure fury clearly written onto his face. For a moment, Ryan thought Jon was going to hit him, but instead, he took the phone from the younger man’s hand, whispering a, “Don’t you ever fucking dare,” before going back to console Spencer, who had not looked up the entire time.
This, Ryan thought to himself, was going to be a long two hours.