That Green Gentleman Chapter 5
Chapter 5:
Brendon wakes up from the most perfect dream. A smile lingers on his lips as he runs a hand through his messy dark hair, and staggers out of bed. He’s still smiling softly to himself when he realises he has one hell of a hangover. The smile however, fades when he sees an unidentified body lying on the hotel room couch.
A body that looks like Ryan.
So he does what any normal person would do. He picks up a guitar, and screams.
The figure lurches upright, startled and screaming in shock as he plummets off the edge of the couch onto a cold linoleum floor. Brendon chuckles at first, Ryan on linoleum floor… like the song!
Then it clicks. Ryan Ross is on his hotel room floor.
What in the name of skittles?
“Ryan?” He asks, suddenly lurching forwards, a hand extended towards the older boy’s. Ryan takes it and pulls himself up.
“What the hell was that? Why the fuck are you holding a guitar? Why did you scream? What. The. FUCK?!” Ryan yells at him.
“What is this the Spanish inquisition? I just forgot you were asleep… on my sofa. In my hotel room. In New York.” Brendon explains himself, shrugging, and throwing his hands up in the air. Ryan lurches out of the way to avoided being concussed by a lovely blue acoustic. As an afterthought, Brendon places the guitar on the floor, shrugging an apology.
“You forgot I was here, so instead of asking politely what I was doing, you deafen me, then try to decapitate me with your guitar? When did you become so violent?” Ryan’s face softens at Brendon’s pout (trademark). Just the way Brendon knew it would.
“I’m sorry, Ry…” Brendon moves towards Ryan his arms outstretched. Just because he doesn’t remember what the hell happened last night, doesn’t mean he’s not going to take advantage of it…
Ryan always knew Brendon was an emotional little shit.
Summer 2004
“Brendon, for God’s sake, stop being an asshole!” Ryan yells, throwing a guitar pick at his friend’s head. Brendon catches it, and flips Ryan off.
“I will when you will. I can’t believe you’re making me sing this…”
“You don’t like it? Can you write better?”
“Calm down! I like it! And no I couldn’t write better?” Brendon yells in response. Somewhere in the background, Spencer rolls his eyes at a zoned out Brent.
“Then enlighten me, musical genius, what the fuck is wrong with it?” Ryan screams as he dodges the notebook being thrown at his face.
“As if you don’t know. As if you’re not just pretending to be unaware. As if you’re pretending it didn’t happen! It’s about your god damn girlfriend asshole! Your god damn girlfriend cheating on you! I can’t fucking put up with your crap, Ross. I can’t!” Brendon pushes a bewildered Brent, who had just been woken up by the swearing out of the way as he storms out of the garage door.
They both turn to face Ryan.
“Well?” Spencer asks, hands on hips, his damage control face already planted firmly.
“Oh.” Ryan replies. “Shit.”
“Yeah, shit! You fix this! Go! Ryan, sort this crap out! I’m not your mother!” Spencer yelled at him.
Ryan blinked. Spencer. Was. Yelling. At. Him.
At HIM! Ryan, his best friend since time began. Yelling! He turned to Brent for support. Brent just shrugged.
“Bitch, you messed UUUUP!”
Such an emotional little shit.
Brendon wakes up from the most perfect dream. A smile lingers on his lips as he runs a hand through his messy dark hair, and staggers out of bed. He’s still smiling softly to himself when he realises he has one hell of a hangover. The smile however, fades when he sees an unidentified body lying on the hotel room couch.
A body that looks like Ryan.
So he does what any normal person would do. He picks up a guitar, and screams.
The figure lurches upright, startled and screaming in shock as he plummets off the edge of the couch onto a cold linoleum floor. Brendon chuckles at first, Ryan on linoleum floor… like the song!
Then it clicks. Ryan Ross is on his hotel room floor.
What in the name of skittles?
“Ryan?” He asks, suddenly lurching forwards, a hand extended towards the older boy’s. Ryan takes it and pulls himself up.
“What the hell was that? Why the fuck are you holding a guitar? Why did you scream? What. The. FUCK?!” Ryan yells at him.
“What is this the Spanish inquisition? I just forgot you were asleep… on my sofa. In my hotel room. In New York.” Brendon explains himself, shrugging, and throwing his hands up in the air. Ryan lurches out of the way to avoided being concussed by a lovely blue acoustic. As an afterthought, Brendon places the guitar on the floor, shrugging an apology.
“You forgot I was here, so instead of asking politely what I was doing, you deafen me, then try to decapitate me with your guitar? When did you become so violent?” Ryan’s face softens at Brendon’s pout (trademark). Just the way Brendon knew it would.
“I’m sorry, Ry…” Brendon moves towards Ryan his arms outstretched. Just because he doesn’t remember what the hell happened last night, doesn’t mean he’s not going to take advantage of it…
Ryan always knew Brendon was an emotional little shit.
Summer 2004
“Brendon, for God’s sake, stop being an asshole!” Ryan yells, throwing a guitar pick at his friend’s head. Brendon catches it, and flips Ryan off.
“I will when you will. I can’t believe you’re making me sing this…”
“You don’t like it? Can you write better?”
“Calm down! I like it! And no I couldn’t write better?” Brendon yells in response. Somewhere in the background, Spencer rolls his eyes at a zoned out Brent.
“Then enlighten me, musical genius, what the fuck is wrong with it?” Ryan screams as he dodges the notebook being thrown at his face.
“As if you don’t know. As if you’re not just pretending to be unaware. As if you’re pretending it didn’t happen! It’s about your god damn girlfriend asshole! Your god damn girlfriend cheating on you! I can’t fucking put up with your crap, Ross. I can’t!” Brendon pushes a bewildered Brent, who had just been woken up by the swearing out of the way as he storms out of the garage door.
They both turn to face Ryan.
“Well?” Spencer asks, hands on hips, his damage control face already planted firmly.
“Oh.” Ryan replies. “Shit.”
“Yeah, shit! You fix this! Go! Ryan, sort this crap out! I’m not your mother!” Spencer yelled at him.
Ryan blinked. Spencer. Was. Yelling. At. Him.
At HIM! Ryan, his best friend since time began. Yelling! He turned to Brent for support. Brent just shrugged.
“Bitch, you messed UUUUP!”
Such an emotional little shit.