Nicotine. [Standalone.]
Title: Nicotine.
Author: lithiumreactant
Rating: PG-13 [ Crude language, boys and Seattle references ]
Pairing: Brendon Urie / Ryan Ross
POV: First. Brendon-centric.
Word Count: 3,074.
Summary: You were always going to be the cancer that killed me at the end of our endless summer.
Disclaimer: I'm a hairdresser, not Pete Wentz. [Although, what the crap? He opened a salon? Does this man stop at nothing?]
Author Notes: I haven't written anything in story-form for over a year. 'Nuff said. First Rydon fic. It's written in an odd format - like thoughts and not structure.
Comments & con-crit are appreciated.
It’s four-thirty-seven in the morning and I don’t think I’ve ever felt more awake.
Now that I think about it, it might have something to do with the Red Bull’s we were drinking when we were at the falls -
[You said the water vapors looked amazing at this time of night and goddamn you were right, I had never seen anything more paralyzing than you standing in the moonlight with the water vapors behind you at two-thirty-two in the morning] - But I kind of want to believe that it was just because I felt so alive.
I keep thinking about how you looked.
How really fucking creepy the whole setting was.
Everything was so dark and it was just us, standing on the observation deck of this waterfall that was just roaring.
That sound reminded me of the times when it would rain so hard in Vegas and we would just scream confessions back and forth over the rain.
You would tell me that you didn’t actually hate your dad and I would tell you that I wasn’t always happy.
We would scream our secrets until the rain stopped, and then we’d sit in the road until the steam rose.
And it was like a silent agreement that we would never bring those things up.
That sound kind of made me want to tell you all my insecurities by default, but this wasn’t Vegas and this wasn’t rain.
So I kept my mouth shut.
I couldn’t stand too close to the edge, even with the rail.
The water vapors made it so I couldn’t see the ground and it just made me dizzy.
I felt like I might actually just topple over and fall forever.
Away from you -
You as you stood struggling to light your cigarette.
I could barely make you out.
Your face would appear with every flick of the lighter, tinged by the orange light that contrasted the eerie air that made everything different shades of blue.
And then it disappeared - your face - all that was left were the sharp shadows of your features and the end of a cigarette that briefly glowed orange before soft trails of smoke escaped your lips.
I wanted to be that smoke.
I wanted you to breathe me out with such ease and then wind my way around you - disappearing into the air to become your oxygen.
I wanted you to need me.
Yeah, because I am that desperate.
We didn’t talk, I just stood there dizzy and in love.
When you finally finished your cigarette you tossed it on the ground, stepping it out before picking it back up.
I gave you a look, but you just ignored it, flicking the spent stick into the vapors.
Sometimes I feel like I can’t touch you…
Like maybe you’re not real and I have made this all up in my head -
The band, the fans, the moonlight, you,
But then you look at me again and it’s not that you’re smiling, because you’re not, it’s that you trust me enough to know that you’re alright even without the smile.
And I’m in love, Ryan.
I’m in love.
“Bren?”
I jerk a little, shaking myself out of the mental repeat of a few hours ago to see you staring at me with another cigarette in between your lips and the pack out held towards me.
I shook my head, having stubbed mine out less than seventeen minutes ago.
I never really liked smoking, but for some reason the occasion called for it.
You never really smoked either. Only on nights like these.
I guess tonight [more so this morning] was fitting.
You nodded your head, putting the pack away and lighting the cigarette.
“Didn’t think so.”
“Hm?”
Soft exhale. “Didn’t think you wanted another.”
“Oh. Yeah.”
I looked out over the city skyline, feeling like some clever teenager as I sat tucked away from all the cameras at what-the-fuck-o’clock in the morning on the sidewalk in front of some in-construction housing development.
Houses that stood empty now, but would soon be home to new families.
Those walls would soon see tears and hear laughter.
Some kid was going to grow up inside these houses, and I could only hope that they would appreciate the view half as much as I did.
I hope they wonder if someone sat outside their house before it was theirs.
I hope they feel freedom like this.
This, I thought quietly, is what it feels like to be alive.
A different kind of alive.
Different than the thrill of a stage.
This was what it felt like to just exist, to just look at the world and realize how small we actually are.
And it’s really kind of nice - the whole concept of being small.
Lately I have felt just so big, with all the flashing lights, cameras and questions.
It’s a strange sort of big though, it’s not bad,
But it’s not like this.
It’s not this real.
“I feel kind of stupid,” you broke, looking up at the sky.
“How come?”
“I just realized that the sun is coming up behind us.”
“What?”
I looked behind us, and sure enough.
The sky was lighter shades of blue, while the one in front of us was much darker, still with stars.
I breathed out a soft laugh.
“What is that?”
“Wha?”
I turned my head again, looking into the darker sky to see what appeared to be a firework.
It burst into orange flames and then continued to trail though the sky,
Spouting sparks of light periodically until it disappeared behind the trees.
“I thought it was a firework.”
“I think it might have been a comet.”
“An asteroid? It looks like it broke the atmosphere.”
“But it popped out of nowhere.”
”Yeah. I think that’s where it broke through.”
“It was like a shooting star.”
“Mhm.”
“Did you make a wish?”
My eyes dropped from the sky to see you looking at me, taking the last drag of your cigarette with a small smile on your lips, nodding.
“I’m not telling though.”
I make a face and you just laugh softly as I turn back to the ever-lightening sky.
My eyes drop shut, not because I’m tired but because…
Because I’m glad to be here.
With you.
Away from the world.
I don’t think you’ll ever really get it, I mean there isn’t much I can say.
Things have been a little different now.
For as close as we’ve always been, it’s never been close enough.
I think you’ve always kind of been afraid of being too close to me because maybe you were afraid you would lead me on or something.
You know I’m in love with you.
You know that.
And ya know what?
I know you’re in love with me too.
Maybe it’s just all platonic.
It slips every once and a while - your façade.
Like when you “forget” to kick me out of your bunk and you end up holding me all night.
Or how you always wake me up with little Eskimo kisses [but in the back of your eyes I can see this little spark and every morning like that I think “maybe this will be the morning that you finally just kiss me…” but you never do].
You always pull away in public and you always counter my questionable statements.
You don’t even like me joking around onstage.
Sometimes I think you’re afraid of what people will think.
I frown.
Is that the only reason?
Are you just afraid of opinions?
You’re sitting right next to me, but you’re miles away.
[It’s so fucking cliché that I kind of want to throw up right then and there, I guess this is why you’re the lyricist.]
I feel like you don’t tell me anything anymore.
Come to think of it, you never really did but you would look at me and tell me with your eyes.
Or sometimes, when you were really tired, we would lay on the couch and you would tell me all these things that you would never say fully awake,
I don’t know where you went.
I don’t know how I lost my best friend.
I know Spencer is your best friend, I never really tried competing with him.
I mean, he’s Spencer.
He’s like right next to Jon Walker on the Uber [Fucking Awesome] Scale.
On top of that he’s been with you for like eighty thousand years.
I am fine being number two on the best friend hierarchy, because I know it’s a special kind.
And maybe I am number one, just a different kind.
Either way, rankings aside, I don’t understand where you went.
And I don’t like how I feel like I barely know you anymore.
The light around us flashes and I can see you lift your head just as quick as I lift mine.
Our answer comes as the booming sound of thunder cracks over our heads,
And I am suddenly aware that all that blue has turned to gray and black.
I scrunch up my nose and as a large, wet drop hits my face, all I can think is;
Welcome to Seattle.
One drop. Two drop. Wa-bam.
I hear your laugh as the rain starts coming down in sheets, stinging our bodies with abnormally sized drops that are surprisingly cold for the warm air.
You stand up just as the sky flashes white again and all of a sudden I feel like I am drowning.
The sky rumbles and the rain is relentless, drowning all my senses.
You start walking to the car and I finally stand up, wondering how everything just suddenly changed.
The sounds are all deafening.
I feel like I am back at the falls, only this time standing right under them.
The sound is everywhere and I can taste the water sitting on my skin and soaking my clothes.
I feel like if I drowned right here, in this nameless town just off the edge of Seattle, on this nameless street, in front of these nameless houses with empty windows…
Then maybe I could go back to being Brendon Urie and not BrendonUrie…
And you could be Ryan Ross, not RyanRoss.
We could go back to Brendon and Ryan, and not BrendonUrieAndRyanRossFromPanic[!]AtTheDisco.
I shake my head, flicking water everywhere [not like it matters] and start following you back towards the car.
When the sky cracks again you stop and turn to me, closing your eyes for a moment.
I stop too, watching you and wondering if you feel like drowning too.
If the sound is just as deafening to you.
After forever your eyes snap open and you yell over the rain: “I’m scared.”
And it takes me a moment before I realize what you’re doing and then I yell: “Me too.”
“I’ve always hated the lyrics to the ‘London Beckoned’ chorus.”
“I’m tired of people thinking I’m constantly jacked up on Red Bulls.”
“I flirted with Pete Wentz to get our record deal.”
“I miss your Ryhawk.”
“I told you I hated that fucking lavender hoodie but it was always my favorite. And the red shoes too.”
“The rose vest is in my apartment and I won’t give it back until you start wearing eyeliner again.”
“I’m tired of people judging me.”
“I’m fucking lonely.”
“I miss you.”
Crack. Right over our heads.
I feel like my insides are falling out but I can’t take my eyes off yours.
“I feel like I’ve lost you, Ryan.”
“I feel like I’ve lost you, Brendon.”
I let out a shaky breath. “I know you’re in love.”
You pause. “I knew you saw me pretending.”
“Sometimes I just want you to disappear.”
“Watching you for too long makes me sick.”
“Sometimes I think you want to but you’re too chicken shit to kiss me.”
And that shut you up.
The words stopped falling and you just stare.
And then you look mad.
You look fucking pissed.
And at first I am taken aback, but then I quickly find my own anger.
What the fuck is wrong?
If both of us are staring at each other, why does it take the desperation of nature to finally fucking say something?
I won’t apologize. I straight up refuse. This is real and I want you to grow up.
I kept my ground, shifting my weight to one hip as I see you taking quick steps towards me and for a second I think you’re gonna hit me before your fingers grab the back of my neck and roughly pull me forward, crashing your lips onto mine.
And it hurts.
It fucking hurts, but I’m kissing [biting, licking, clawing] back frantically, fisting my hands into your soaked hair and shirt, trying to bruise your mouth like you’re bruising mine.
But you don’t stop, it’s like I don’t even faze you.
That pisses me off even more. I want to fucking stun you.
I want to choke you and steal all of your breath with my mouth. I want just even a little control over you, because you have far too much over me.
But you just keeping pulling apart, pushing back again and the kiss is twice as wet because the rain just won’t stop.
I give your hair a tug and pull you back, sucking in breaths that you’re panting out.
You’ve always been my oxygen.
Something in your eyes is like I used to know them.
A lot more Ryan and a lot less RyanRoss.
My insides are melting.
And I don’t want to hurt you anymore, so when I push my lips to yours again it’s still harder than it should be, but it doesn’t hurt.
It’s not about hurting each other anymore,
It’s about releasing all the pent up fears and emotions.
Your tongue is soft and you taste like cigarettes and nicotine. Like cancer, and summer.
You taste like a plague of sunshine and dreams that is just going to end up killing me when the season is over.
You taste like the end of the world.
“I’m sorry,” you murmur against my mouth, confiding in me your deepest confession.
I am drowning again.
The rain and the sky deafen every sound and I swear the only noise I can hear is your heartbeat.
It’s beating wildly against my own and your nose is pressed so awkwardly to mine as your arms fasten around my neck to pull yourself closer.
I feel like you’re trying to climb inside me, like you’re thinking that if you try hard enough you can get under my skin and just pretend you are a part of me.
But you are.
I couldn’t quit you if I tried.
I never needed cigarettes because I had you.
You were always going to be the cancer that killed me at the end of our endless summer.
You would always be my nicotine.
“Me too.”
My hands are pressing on your shoulder blades through the wet fabric of your thin shirt and all I can feel is you.
I don’t know where you start and where I end.
Your legs are tangled in mine and I’m trying to take all the oxygen out of you.
There isn’t enough around us; the world doesn’t have enough for the two of us, there is too much water and too much sound.
I missed you so much.
I’m finding all my answers on your lips and on your skin.
All the pieces that fell out of my cardboard puzzle box have been returned, and it feels so nice to have you like this; just dying to be a part of me as much as I want to be a part of you.
It’s not romantic - not really at least - it’s all filled with I’ve missed you… and I love you…
But it’s not… It’s not romantic, it’s me finally staring my best friend in the eyes again.
Yeah, I’ll always be in love with you - that’s the part of me that will always be left in NeverLand
I would give up [almost] everything to have a chance at love with you, but I’m scared too. I know what you mean.
I couldn’t bear making a mistake and then never being with you or seeing you again.
Part of me wants to believe that nothing could keep us away from each other, but let’s face it.
When we open our hearts we are asking to be hurt, and I have already opened mine much too far for you.
So suddenly, this is fine.
Suffocating with you is fine, because I know that these downpours are glimpses of our own, secret season.
Your mouth is much softer now.
Everything is.
You don’t taste so toxic anymore; you taste sweet, still cancerous, but sweet.
Your body feels so much lighter.
Things begin to slow.
Your mouth, your touch, the sky, the rain…
I can barely feel your lips anymore, but they’re still trying; brushing against mine as our noses bump affectionately.
Your bottom lip is bleeding a little and I think I have the imprints of your fingers on my back, but everything is better.
Beads of water fall from your hair and it’s then that I look up, now being greeted with rays of sunshine.
I feel you do the same, still keeping your arms fastened around my neck.
And then you laugh.
You laugh and it’s like it shatters all the glass walls that have been surrounding me.
The roaring that has been in my ears fades out and I finally stop drowning.
I can see your smile and hear your sound.
You sound like lovers realizing they are in love for the first time, Ryan.
You sound like everything I have ever wanted to put into a song; so people could feel like I do when I’m next to you.
But then it makes sense; you can’t replicate feelings like this; you can only compose memory triggers.
You’re laughing and hugging me, and suddenly I am doing the same.
Because this is it.
This is it.
We’re whole again.
We’re standing in the middle of a nameless town, on a nameless street, in front of nameless houses at what-the-fuck-o’clock in the morning and watching the steam rise from the street in our own season of endless summer.
And we’re addicted. We’re both just addicts.
But we’re home, Ryan. We’re home.
Author’s Note: Thank you to everyone who took the time to read this, like I said, it’s been over a year since I have written anything of value, and this is also my first Rydon shot. It took me a while to get the guts up to post this.
I’m awful rusty, you see.
Anyway, recently we’ve been experiencing some rather bizarre weather over in Seattle, and it at least did the trick to inspire the hell out of me.
I hope you all enjoyed it. I’ll see you around.
<3
Author: lithiumreactant
Rating: PG-13 [ Crude language, boys and Seattle references ]
Pairing: Brendon Urie / Ryan Ross
POV: First. Brendon-centric.
Word Count: 3,074.
Summary: You were always going to be the cancer that killed me at the end of our endless summer.
Disclaimer: I'm a hairdresser, not Pete Wentz. [Although, what the crap? He opened a salon? Does this man stop at nothing?]
Author Notes: I haven't written anything in story-form for over a year. 'Nuff said. First Rydon fic. It's written in an odd format - like thoughts and not structure.
Comments & con-crit are appreciated.
It’s four-thirty-seven in the morning and I don’t think I’ve ever felt more awake.
Now that I think about it, it might have something to do with the Red Bull’s we were drinking when we were at the falls -
[You said the water vapors looked amazing at this time of night and goddamn you were right, I had never seen anything more paralyzing than you standing in the moonlight with the water vapors behind you at two-thirty-two in the morning] - But I kind of want to believe that it was just because I felt so alive.
I keep thinking about how you looked.
How really fucking creepy the whole setting was.
Everything was so dark and it was just us, standing on the observation deck of this waterfall that was just roaring.
That sound reminded me of the times when it would rain so hard in Vegas and we would just scream confessions back and forth over the rain.
You would tell me that you didn’t actually hate your dad and I would tell you that I wasn’t always happy.
We would scream our secrets until the rain stopped, and then we’d sit in the road until the steam rose.
And it was like a silent agreement that we would never bring those things up.
That sound kind of made me want to tell you all my insecurities by default, but this wasn’t Vegas and this wasn’t rain.
So I kept my mouth shut.
I couldn’t stand too close to the edge, even with the rail.
The water vapors made it so I couldn’t see the ground and it just made me dizzy.
I felt like I might actually just topple over and fall forever.
Away from you -
You as you stood struggling to light your cigarette.
I could barely make you out.
Your face would appear with every flick of the lighter, tinged by the orange light that contrasted the eerie air that made everything different shades of blue.
And then it disappeared - your face - all that was left were the sharp shadows of your features and the end of a cigarette that briefly glowed orange before soft trails of smoke escaped your lips.
I wanted to be that smoke.
I wanted you to breathe me out with such ease and then wind my way around you - disappearing into the air to become your oxygen.
I wanted you to need me.
Yeah, because I am that desperate.
We didn’t talk, I just stood there dizzy and in love.
When you finally finished your cigarette you tossed it on the ground, stepping it out before picking it back up.
I gave you a look, but you just ignored it, flicking the spent stick into the vapors.
Sometimes I feel like I can’t touch you…
Like maybe you’re not real and I have made this all up in my head -
The band, the fans, the moonlight, you,
But then you look at me again and it’s not that you’re smiling, because you’re not, it’s that you trust me enough to know that you’re alright even without the smile.
And I’m in love, Ryan.
I’m in love.
“Bren?”
I jerk a little, shaking myself out of the mental repeat of a few hours ago to see you staring at me with another cigarette in between your lips and the pack out held towards me.
I shook my head, having stubbed mine out less than seventeen minutes ago.
I never really liked smoking, but for some reason the occasion called for it.
You never really smoked either. Only on nights like these.
I guess tonight [more so this morning] was fitting.
You nodded your head, putting the pack away and lighting the cigarette.
“Didn’t think so.”
“Hm?”
Soft exhale. “Didn’t think you wanted another.”
“Oh. Yeah.”
I looked out over the city skyline, feeling like some clever teenager as I sat tucked away from all the cameras at what-the-fuck-o’clock in the morning on the sidewalk in front of some in-construction housing development.
Houses that stood empty now, but would soon be home to new families.
Those walls would soon see tears and hear laughter.
Some kid was going to grow up inside these houses, and I could only hope that they would appreciate the view half as much as I did.
I hope they wonder if someone sat outside their house before it was theirs.
I hope they feel freedom like this.
This, I thought quietly, is what it feels like to be alive.
A different kind of alive.
Different than the thrill of a stage.
This was what it felt like to just exist, to just look at the world and realize how small we actually are.
And it’s really kind of nice - the whole concept of being small.
Lately I have felt just so big, with all the flashing lights, cameras and questions.
It’s a strange sort of big though, it’s not bad,
But it’s not like this.
It’s not this real.
“I feel kind of stupid,” you broke, looking up at the sky.
“How come?”
“I just realized that the sun is coming up behind us.”
“What?”
I looked behind us, and sure enough.
The sky was lighter shades of blue, while the one in front of us was much darker, still with stars.
I breathed out a soft laugh.
“What is that?”
“Wha?”
I turned my head again, looking into the darker sky to see what appeared to be a firework.
It burst into orange flames and then continued to trail though the sky,
Spouting sparks of light periodically until it disappeared behind the trees.
“I thought it was a firework.”
“I think it might have been a comet.”
“An asteroid? It looks like it broke the atmosphere.”
“But it popped out of nowhere.”
”Yeah. I think that’s where it broke through.”
“It was like a shooting star.”
“Mhm.”
“Did you make a wish?”
My eyes dropped from the sky to see you looking at me, taking the last drag of your cigarette with a small smile on your lips, nodding.
“I’m not telling though.”
I make a face and you just laugh softly as I turn back to the ever-lightening sky.
My eyes drop shut, not because I’m tired but because…
Because I’m glad to be here.
With you.
Away from the world.
I don’t think you’ll ever really get it, I mean there isn’t much I can say.
Things have been a little different now.
For as close as we’ve always been, it’s never been close enough.
I think you’ve always kind of been afraid of being too close to me because maybe you were afraid you would lead me on or something.
You know I’m in love with you.
You know that.
And ya know what?
I know you’re in love with me too.
Maybe it’s just all platonic.
It slips every once and a while - your façade.
Like when you “forget” to kick me out of your bunk and you end up holding me all night.
Or how you always wake me up with little Eskimo kisses [but in the back of your eyes I can see this little spark and every morning like that I think “maybe this will be the morning that you finally just kiss me…” but you never do].
You always pull away in public and you always counter my questionable statements.
You don’t even like me joking around onstage.
Sometimes I think you’re afraid of what people will think.
I frown.
Is that the only reason?
Are you just afraid of opinions?
You’re sitting right next to me, but you’re miles away.
[It’s so fucking cliché that I kind of want to throw up right then and there, I guess this is why you’re the lyricist.]
I feel like you don’t tell me anything anymore.
Come to think of it, you never really did but you would look at me and tell me with your eyes.
Or sometimes, when you were really tired, we would lay on the couch and you would tell me all these things that you would never say fully awake,
I don’t know where you went.
I don’t know how I lost my best friend.
I know Spencer is your best friend, I never really tried competing with him.
I mean, he’s Spencer.
He’s like right next to Jon Walker on the Uber [Fucking Awesome] Scale.
On top of that he’s been with you for like eighty thousand years.
I am fine being number two on the best friend hierarchy, because I know it’s a special kind.
And maybe I am number one, just a different kind.
Either way, rankings aside, I don’t understand where you went.
And I don’t like how I feel like I barely know you anymore.
The light around us flashes and I can see you lift your head just as quick as I lift mine.
Our answer comes as the booming sound of thunder cracks over our heads,
And I am suddenly aware that all that blue has turned to gray and black.
I scrunch up my nose and as a large, wet drop hits my face, all I can think is;
Welcome to Seattle.
One drop. Two drop. Wa-bam.
I hear your laugh as the rain starts coming down in sheets, stinging our bodies with abnormally sized drops that are surprisingly cold for the warm air.
You stand up just as the sky flashes white again and all of a sudden I feel like I am drowning.
The sky rumbles and the rain is relentless, drowning all my senses.
You start walking to the car and I finally stand up, wondering how everything just suddenly changed.
The sounds are all deafening.
I feel like I am back at the falls, only this time standing right under them.
The sound is everywhere and I can taste the water sitting on my skin and soaking my clothes.
I feel like if I drowned right here, in this nameless town just off the edge of Seattle, on this nameless street, in front of these nameless houses with empty windows…
Then maybe I could go back to being Brendon Urie and not BrendonUrie…
And you could be Ryan Ross, not RyanRoss.
We could go back to Brendon and Ryan, and not BrendonUrieAndRyanRossFromPanic[!]AtTheDisco.
I shake my head, flicking water everywhere [not like it matters] and start following you back towards the car.
When the sky cracks again you stop and turn to me, closing your eyes for a moment.
I stop too, watching you and wondering if you feel like drowning too.
If the sound is just as deafening to you.
After forever your eyes snap open and you yell over the rain: “I’m scared.”
And it takes me a moment before I realize what you’re doing and then I yell: “Me too.”
“I’ve always hated the lyrics to the ‘London Beckoned’ chorus.”
“I’m tired of people thinking I’m constantly jacked up on Red Bulls.”
“I flirted with Pete Wentz to get our record deal.”
“I miss your Ryhawk.”
“I told you I hated that fucking lavender hoodie but it was always my favorite. And the red shoes too.”
“The rose vest is in my apartment and I won’t give it back until you start wearing eyeliner again.”
“I’m tired of people judging me.”
“I’m fucking lonely.”
“I miss you.”
Crack. Right over our heads.
I feel like my insides are falling out but I can’t take my eyes off yours.
“I feel like I’ve lost you, Ryan.”
“I feel like I’ve lost you, Brendon.”
I let out a shaky breath. “I know you’re in love.”
You pause. “I knew you saw me pretending.”
“Sometimes I just want you to disappear.”
“Watching you for too long makes me sick.”
“Sometimes I think you want to but you’re too chicken shit to kiss me.”
And that shut you up.
The words stopped falling and you just stare.
And then you look mad.
You look fucking pissed.
And at first I am taken aback, but then I quickly find my own anger.
What the fuck is wrong?
If both of us are staring at each other, why does it take the desperation of nature to finally fucking say something?
I won’t apologize. I straight up refuse. This is real and I want you to grow up.
I kept my ground, shifting my weight to one hip as I see you taking quick steps towards me and for a second I think you’re gonna hit me before your fingers grab the back of my neck and roughly pull me forward, crashing your lips onto mine.
And it hurts.
It fucking hurts, but I’m kissing [biting, licking, clawing] back frantically, fisting my hands into your soaked hair and shirt, trying to bruise your mouth like you’re bruising mine.
But you don’t stop, it’s like I don’t even faze you.
That pisses me off even more. I want to fucking stun you.
I want to choke you and steal all of your breath with my mouth. I want just even a little control over you, because you have far too much over me.
But you just keeping pulling apart, pushing back again and the kiss is twice as wet because the rain just won’t stop.
I give your hair a tug and pull you back, sucking in breaths that you’re panting out.
You’ve always been my oxygen.
Something in your eyes is like I used to know them.
A lot more Ryan and a lot less RyanRoss.
My insides are melting.
And I don’t want to hurt you anymore, so when I push my lips to yours again it’s still harder than it should be, but it doesn’t hurt.
It’s not about hurting each other anymore,
It’s about releasing all the pent up fears and emotions.
Your tongue is soft and you taste like cigarettes and nicotine. Like cancer, and summer.
You taste like a plague of sunshine and dreams that is just going to end up killing me when the season is over.
You taste like the end of the world.
“I’m sorry,” you murmur against my mouth, confiding in me your deepest confession.
I am drowning again.
The rain and the sky deafen every sound and I swear the only noise I can hear is your heartbeat.
It’s beating wildly against my own and your nose is pressed so awkwardly to mine as your arms fasten around my neck to pull yourself closer.
I feel like you’re trying to climb inside me, like you’re thinking that if you try hard enough you can get under my skin and just pretend you are a part of me.
But you are.
I couldn’t quit you if I tried.
I never needed cigarettes because I had you.
You were always going to be the cancer that killed me at the end of our endless summer.
You would always be my nicotine.
“Me too.”
My hands are pressing on your shoulder blades through the wet fabric of your thin shirt and all I can feel is you.
I don’t know where you start and where I end.
Your legs are tangled in mine and I’m trying to take all the oxygen out of you.
There isn’t enough around us; the world doesn’t have enough for the two of us, there is too much water and too much sound.
I missed you so much.
I’m finding all my answers on your lips and on your skin.
All the pieces that fell out of my cardboard puzzle box have been returned, and it feels so nice to have you like this; just dying to be a part of me as much as I want to be a part of you.
It’s not romantic - not really at least - it’s all filled with I’ve missed you… and I love you…
But it’s not… It’s not romantic, it’s me finally staring my best friend in the eyes again.
Yeah, I’ll always be in love with you - that’s the part of me that will always be left in NeverLand
I would give up [almost] everything to have a chance at love with you, but I’m scared too. I know what you mean.
I couldn’t bear making a mistake and then never being with you or seeing you again.
Part of me wants to believe that nothing could keep us away from each other, but let’s face it.
When we open our hearts we are asking to be hurt, and I have already opened mine much too far for you.
So suddenly, this is fine.
Suffocating with you is fine, because I know that these downpours are glimpses of our own, secret season.
Your mouth is much softer now.
Everything is.
You don’t taste so toxic anymore; you taste sweet, still cancerous, but sweet.
Your body feels so much lighter.
Things begin to slow.
Your mouth, your touch, the sky, the rain…
I can barely feel your lips anymore, but they’re still trying; brushing against mine as our noses bump affectionately.
Your bottom lip is bleeding a little and I think I have the imprints of your fingers on my back, but everything is better.
Beads of water fall from your hair and it’s then that I look up, now being greeted with rays of sunshine.
I feel you do the same, still keeping your arms fastened around my neck.
And then you laugh.
You laugh and it’s like it shatters all the glass walls that have been surrounding me.
The roaring that has been in my ears fades out and I finally stop drowning.
I can see your smile and hear your sound.
You sound like lovers realizing they are in love for the first time, Ryan.
You sound like everything I have ever wanted to put into a song; so people could feel like I do when I’m next to you.
But then it makes sense; you can’t replicate feelings like this; you can only compose memory triggers.
You’re laughing and hugging me, and suddenly I am doing the same.
Because this is it.
This is it.
We’re whole again.
We’re standing in the middle of a nameless town, on a nameless street, in front of nameless houses at what-the-fuck-o’clock in the morning and watching the steam rise from the street in our own season of endless summer.
And we’re addicted. We’re both just addicts.
But we’re home, Ryan. We’re home.
Author’s Note: Thank you to everyone who took the time to read this, like I said, it’s been over a year since I have written anything of value, and this is also my first Rydon shot. It took me a while to get the guts up to post this.
I’m awful rusty, you see.
Anyway, recently we’ve been experiencing some rather bizarre weather over in Seattle, and it at least did the trick to inspire the hell out of me.
I hope you all enjoyed it. I’ll see you around.
<3