So Kiss Me Goodbye (And Maybe I'll Cry Over You) (Spencer/Ryan, PG)
Title: So Kiss Me Goodbye (And Maybe I'll Cry Over You)
Author: frk_werewolf
Fandom: Bandom (Panic at the Disco)
Rating: PG (for a couple curse words)
Pairing: Spencer/Ryan
POV: Third (Spencer's)
Summary: He takes in a deep breath, fighting the pressure in his chest, and all he can smell is Ryan.
Disclaimer: As far as I know it's illegal to own a human being, so most likely I don't own these guys.
Notes: This is what happens when you're having a current make or break a friendship fight with one of your best friends: you get angsty and write fic of other people being angsty about their best friends. It's a little over 1500 words.
Title is from Cobra Starship's Snakes on a Plane (Bring It), or the first part of it is anyway.
Spencer can still feel his presence in the room, in the building, etched into every crevice and soaked into the furniture. He doesn't have the heart to clean and destroy the vibe left behind, angry and yet still Ryan. Maybe, maybe Ryan will come back. Maybe Spencer won't feel so alone.
Maybe there is no point in wishing, because Ryan has left. Abandoned him. Disappeared.
*
"I'm just so tired of arguing," Ryan whispered, eyes wide and unsure. "I don't even know what we're yelling about anymore."
"Neither do I," Spencer admitted, eyes dropping to the floor because he couldn't stand looking at Ryan and seeing pain.
*
Spencer can't breathe, hands clenching at the back of his sofa, eyes closed tightly. He gives in and drops to his knees, forehead pressing into the harsh fabric of the sofa. He takes in a deep breath, fighting the pressure in his chest, and all he can smell is Ryan. Everywhere, attacking his sensing and bringing thoughts to his mind that he had been battling for far too long. A choking sound escapes him and he falls until he's sitting, all energy draining from him.
He feels so lost, without his best friend there. He knows he could call Ryan, try to fix this, and try to correct what went wrong. If he could figure out what went wrong.
Instead he curls up, shuddering. A piece of him is missing, ripped away with a slam of the door. And he can't get it back; he doesn't have the strength to even attempt it. He isn't as strong as he had thought he was.
"Fuck," he says, voice cracking. Another breath, fighting to enter his lungs.
*
He watched Ryan sleep sometimes, through his open bedroom doorway, staring in like a peeping tom. He didn't know why, not really, he just did it. Ryan always looked so serene, complete, lying on his side, one hand stretched out as though he was searching for something and couldn't quite grasp it. Spencer had to fight the urge to take Ryan's hand, pull him close.
"You're not sleeping," Ryan commented, watching Spencer with a look akin to suspicion.
Spencer shrugged and didn't look up from his breakfast.
"Fine, don't speak to me," Ryan snapped, leaving the room, leaving his plate there to remain cold and uneaten.
*
It's only been five days. One hundred and twenty hours. Seven thousand and two hundred minutes. From Spencer's perspective, it's been an eternity.
He hasn't bothered to call Jon or Brendon. He's afraid that they'll blame him, say he's destroyed the band. Maybe Ryan got to them first, told them his side of things and now they'll never believe that Spencer didn't mean for this to happen.
Through his thinking, Spencer barely hears the knock. He doesn't get up, he won't answer. The door opens anyway, footsteps echo. Spencer slowly looks up, seeing Jon's worried face above him. Jon sighs. "You look like crap."
Spencer nods. He hasn't showered since Ryan left. Of course he looks like crap. But a dark part of him hopes he still smells a bit like Ryan.
"C'mon, Spencer," Jon says softly, reaching down to help haul him up. Jon brushes his bangs out of his eyes, face solemn. "It's going to be okay. Friends fight, you'll both get over it."
"It doesn't feel like we'll get over it," Spencer replies, voice raw.
*
Spencer never remembered his dreams, but he always knew when he awoke that he dreamed about Ryan.
This knowledge is what led him to watching Ryan constantly: during sleep, while he ate, as he sat in front of a blank notebook with his guitar. He knew Ryan's every move, every facial expression. No one could ever read Ryan the way Spencer could.
The problem with watching was that it was hard to participate while doing it. So, conversation between them became strained, until it disappeared altogether. And then, Ryan began getting angry with Spencer over the simplest thing.
Spencer responded with frustration, anger, half knowing it was only make things worse. He couldn't help it. Ryan was beautiful while he yelled.
*
Jon brings a suitcase into the apartment after he manages to get Spencer cleaned up. He makes himself at home, invading Spencer's space and forcing Spencer to acknowledge that there is someone else there. Spencer doesn't speak much. Jon seems happy to let him be.
"Eat," Jon orders. Every night it's the same thing, Jon either orders or fixes dinner and forces Spencer to eat. Usually it's the only meal Spencer has, he can't be bothered with food. What's the point, when the only thing important is already gone?
*
Maybe Spencer became obsessed with his best friend.
Maybe Ryan didn't understand.
"Will you stop staring at me?" Ryan yelled, throwing his notebook at Spencer and hitting him square in the chest.
Spencer didn't blink, didn't say a word.
"I can't take this anymore," Ryan said. Spencer winced. "If you don’t start talking to me and telling me what the hell is going on, I'm out of here."
*
He can't breathe. He can't sleep. He can't think about drumming or music. His thoughts have become a monotone message, repeating over and over in his head:
Ryan. Ryan. Ryan. Ryan.
*
Bags had already left the apartment, stuffed into the backseat of Ryan's car. Ryan held his keys in a tight grip, before slowly pulling a single key off and tossing it onto the kitchen table. Spencer watched, an ache forming in his chest while words failed him.
"Don't bother calling me," Ryan muttered, refusing to look Spencer in the face.
The door slammed shut and Spencer was left alone.
*
"Why didn't you ever tell him, Spencer?" Jon asks one evening, a week after he first showed up.
"Tell him what?" Spencer replies, wrapping his arms around his torso and curling up further into the corner of the sofa, hoping it will eat him alive. The television drones in on the background. He isn't watching.
Jon turns and looks at him. "You know what I'm talking about. I don't get why you keep trying to hide it or pretend it'll go away. That sort of love doesn't vanish."
"I'm not in love with Ryan," Spencer says. He means it. He's not in love with his best friend (ex-best friend?). He can't be.
Jon is silent for a moment. "Right, sorry. My mistake."
*
Ryan's hand had slid into Spencer's when they were offered the opportunity to sign with a real record label.
Spencer had known exactly what Ryan had meant with that soft and gentle touch: 'This is it, you and me. This band is going to make it, we're going to make. You and me, together.'
*
Spencer wakes up at three in the morning, body covered in sweat, panting. He stares up at the ceiling, allowing the small memories of his dream to flit through his brain.
Instinctively he reaches over and snatches up his phone, hitting one on speed dial. He listens to the ring, followed by the recorded message of Ryan’s voice mail. The beep echoes in his ear. He takes in a deep breath and says with more longing and desperation than he thought a voice capable of, "Ryan."
He hangs up. His chest hurts and his eyes burn. He knows he wont be able to fall back to sleep. Still, it's nearly noon when he manages to climb out of bed. He enters the living room, passing Jon and Ryan on the way to the kitchen. For a moment, he assumes it's his tired and addled brain playing tricks on him, because there is no way Ryan is in his living room.
"Are you going to actually talk to me for once?" Ryan finally says as Jon quietly heads for the door. "You've been hiding something from me, I knew you had been. And, fuck, Spencer, you don't just leave a message like that on someone's phone!"
"I'm sorry," Spencer says. He's not sure what he's sorry about. The message or everything? Possibly both.
"Don't be, not for that," Ryan says, walking forward, obviously meaning the message. Spencer backs away until he back hits the wall. A sad smile graces Ryan's features. "For what it's worth, I'm sorry, too."
Spencer lets out a breath he didn't realize he was holding. "Ryan."
"God, you've never said my name like that before," Ryan breathes in awe, eyes staring at Spencer's mouth. He steps closer and slowly lowers his head to rest against Spencer's shoulder. "Please don't make me go that long without you ever again."
Spencer says nothing and instead wraps his arms around Ryan's body, pulling him in close. He breathes in Ryan's scent, refilling the holes that had been formed in Ryan's absence.
"It's you and me," Ryan whispers.
"Together," Spencer adds. "Ryan, I--"
"Don't," Ryan interrupts. "If you're going to tell me that you love me...wait until we're not making up. Then it'll mean more."
"Okay." Spencer pauses. "I don't want to let go of you."
He can feel Ryan smile softly against his neck. "Then don't."
Author: frk_werewolf
Fandom: Bandom (Panic at the Disco)
Rating: PG (for a couple curse words)
Pairing: Spencer/Ryan
POV: Third (Spencer's)
Summary: He takes in a deep breath, fighting the pressure in his chest, and all he can smell is Ryan.
Disclaimer: As far as I know it's illegal to own a human being, so most likely I don't own these guys.
Notes: This is what happens when you're having a current make or break a friendship fight with one of your best friends: you get angsty and write fic of other people being angsty about their best friends. It's a little over 1500 words.
Title is from Cobra Starship's Snakes on a Plane (Bring It), or the first part of it is anyway.
Spencer can still feel his presence in the room, in the building, etched into every crevice and soaked into the furniture. He doesn't have the heart to clean and destroy the vibe left behind, angry and yet still Ryan. Maybe, maybe Ryan will come back. Maybe Spencer won't feel so alone.
Maybe there is no point in wishing, because Ryan has left. Abandoned him. Disappeared.
*
"I'm just so tired of arguing," Ryan whispered, eyes wide and unsure. "I don't even know what we're yelling about anymore."
"Neither do I," Spencer admitted, eyes dropping to the floor because he couldn't stand looking at Ryan and seeing pain.
*
Spencer can't breathe, hands clenching at the back of his sofa, eyes closed tightly. He gives in and drops to his knees, forehead pressing into the harsh fabric of the sofa. He takes in a deep breath, fighting the pressure in his chest, and all he can smell is Ryan. Everywhere, attacking his sensing and bringing thoughts to his mind that he had been battling for far too long. A choking sound escapes him and he falls until he's sitting, all energy draining from him.
He feels so lost, without his best friend there. He knows he could call Ryan, try to fix this, and try to correct what went wrong. If he could figure out what went wrong.
Instead he curls up, shuddering. A piece of him is missing, ripped away with a slam of the door. And he can't get it back; he doesn't have the strength to even attempt it. He isn't as strong as he had thought he was.
"Fuck," he says, voice cracking. Another breath, fighting to enter his lungs.
*
He watched Ryan sleep sometimes, through his open bedroom doorway, staring in like a peeping tom. He didn't know why, not really, he just did it. Ryan always looked so serene, complete, lying on his side, one hand stretched out as though he was searching for something and couldn't quite grasp it. Spencer had to fight the urge to take Ryan's hand, pull him close.
"You're not sleeping," Ryan commented, watching Spencer with a look akin to suspicion.
Spencer shrugged and didn't look up from his breakfast.
"Fine, don't speak to me," Ryan snapped, leaving the room, leaving his plate there to remain cold and uneaten.
*
It's only been five days. One hundred and twenty hours. Seven thousand and two hundred minutes. From Spencer's perspective, it's been an eternity.
He hasn't bothered to call Jon or Brendon. He's afraid that they'll blame him, say he's destroyed the band. Maybe Ryan got to them first, told them his side of things and now they'll never believe that Spencer didn't mean for this to happen.
Through his thinking, Spencer barely hears the knock. He doesn't get up, he won't answer. The door opens anyway, footsteps echo. Spencer slowly looks up, seeing Jon's worried face above him. Jon sighs. "You look like crap."
Spencer nods. He hasn't showered since Ryan left. Of course he looks like crap. But a dark part of him hopes he still smells a bit like Ryan.
"C'mon, Spencer," Jon says softly, reaching down to help haul him up. Jon brushes his bangs out of his eyes, face solemn. "It's going to be okay. Friends fight, you'll both get over it."
"It doesn't feel like we'll get over it," Spencer replies, voice raw.
*
Spencer never remembered his dreams, but he always knew when he awoke that he dreamed about Ryan.
This knowledge is what led him to watching Ryan constantly: during sleep, while he ate, as he sat in front of a blank notebook with his guitar. He knew Ryan's every move, every facial expression. No one could ever read Ryan the way Spencer could.
The problem with watching was that it was hard to participate while doing it. So, conversation between them became strained, until it disappeared altogether. And then, Ryan began getting angry with Spencer over the simplest thing.
Spencer responded with frustration, anger, half knowing it was only make things worse. He couldn't help it. Ryan was beautiful while he yelled.
*
Jon brings a suitcase into the apartment after he manages to get Spencer cleaned up. He makes himself at home, invading Spencer's space and forcing Spencer to acknowledge that there is someone else there. Spencer doesn't speak much. Jon seems happy to let him be.
"Eat," Jon orders. Every night it's the same thing, Jon either orders or fixes dinner and forces Spencer to eat. Usually it's the only meal Spencer has, he can't be bothered with food. What's the point, when the only thing important is already gone?
*
Maybe Spencer became obsessed with his best friend.
Maybe Ryan didn't understand.
"Will you stop staring at me?" Ryan yelled, throwing his notebook at Spencer and hitting him square in the chest.
Spencer didn't blink, didn't say a word.
"I can't take this anymore," Ryan said. Spencer winced. "If you don’t start talking to me and telling me what the hell is going on, I'm out of here."
*
He can't breathe. He can't sleep. He can't think about drumming or music. His thoughts have become a monotone message, repeating over and over in his head:
Ryan. Ryan. Ryan. Ryan.
*
Bags had already left the apartment, stuffed into the backseat of Ryan's car. Ryan held his keys in a tight grip, before slowly pulling a single key off and tossing it onto the kitchen table. Spencer watched, an ache forming in his chest while words failed him.
"Don't bother calling me," Ryan muttered, refusing to look Spencer in the face.
The door slammed shut and Spencer was left alone.
*
"Why didn't you ever tell him, Spencer?" Jon asks one evening, a week after he first showed up.
"Tell him what?" Spencer replies, wrapping his arms around his torso and curling up further into the corner of the sofa, hoping it will eat him alive. The television drones in on the background. He isn't watching.
Jon turns and looks at him. "You know what I'm talking about. I don't get why you keep trying to hide it or pretend it'll go away. That sort of love doesn't vanish."
"I'm not in love with Ryan," Spencer says. He means it. He's not in love with his best friend (ex-best friend?). He can't be.
Jon is silent for a moment. "Right, sorry. My mistake."
*
Ryan's hand had slid into Spencer's when they were offered the opportunity to sign with a real record label.
Spencer had known exactly what Ryan had meant with that soft and gentle touch: 'This is it, you and me. This band is going to make it, we're going to make. You and me, together.'
*
Spencer wakes up at three in the morning, body covered in sweat, panting. He stares up at the ceiling, allowing the small memories of his dream to flit through his brain.
Instinctively he reaches over and snatches up his phone, hitting one on speed dial. He listens to the ring, followed by the recorded message of Ryan’s voice mail. The beep echoes in his ear. He takes in a deep breath and says with more longing and desperation than he thought a voice capable of, "Ryan."
He hangs up. His chest hurts and his eyes burn. He knows he wont be able to fall back to sleep. Still, it's nearly noon when he manages to climb out of bed. He enters the living room, passing Jon and Ryan on the way to the kitchen. For a moment, he assumes it's his tired and addled brain playing tricks on him, because there is no way Ryan is in his living room.
"Are you going to actually talk to me for once?" Ryan finally says as Jon quietly heads for the door. "You've been hiding something from me, I knew you had been. And, fuck, Spencer, you don't just leave a message like that on someone's phone!"
"I'm sorry," Spencer says. He's not sure what he's sorry about. The message or everything? Possibly both.
"Don't be, not for that," Ryan says, walking forward, obviously meaning the message. Spencer backs away until he back hits the wall. A sad smile graces Ryan's features. "For what it's worth, I'm sorry, too."
Spencer lets out a breath he didn't realize he was holding. "Ryan."
"God, you've never said my name like that before," Ryan breathes in awe, eyes staring at Spencer's mouth. He steps closer and slowly lowers his head to rest against Spencer's shoulder. "Please don't make me go that long without you ever again."
Spencer says nothing and instead wraps his arms around Ryan's body, pulling him in close. He breathes in Ryan's scent, refilling the holes that had been formed in Ryan's absence.
"It's you and me," Ryan whispers.
"Together," Spencer adds. "Ryan, I--"
"Don't," Ryan interrupts. "If you're going to tell me that you love me...wait until we're not making up. Then it'll mean more."
"Okay." Spencer pauses. "I don't want to let go of you."
He can feel Ryan smile softly against his neck. "Then don't."