Happy Holidays, theaerosolkid!
To: theaerosolkid
From: halftone
Title: take these broken wings (and learn to fly)
Rating: PG-13
Characters: Brendon Urie, Ryan Ross, Boyd Urie, Grace Urie
Word Count: 3,468
Warnings: a smidge of fluff, a bunch more angst, religious themes
Disclaimer: I do not own the members of Panic! At The Disco, the events contained herein are a fictional interpretation of how some real events took place.
Summary: Before he met Ryan Ross, Brendon had never met anyone that made him wonder why homosexuality was so bad in the eyes of the LDS. He got the reasoning that they gave, but he never tried to give it any deeper thought than that. It was just how things were.
Notes: So, when I first saw your request, I was dead-set on writing Panic! GSF/Zack, because it's Zack, and I love Zack, and he needs some love! But that idea just wasn't panning out, so I defaulted to some OTP fic, because there's no such thing as too much OTP fic! I also really intended on there being some porn in there, and I might try to write some in the same universe, like a deleted scene, but it felt like to me that it just didn't work in this fic. However, I really do hope that you like this all the same. Much love and thanks to W for her support and encouragement, and to W and F for looking this over and making sure it wasn't awful!
Brendon would always associate his big gay crisis with meeting Ryan Ross. Before that, he could force himself to ignore it when his brain decided to tell him that certain guys were attractive, and he could pretend that it was the hot girl on the TV giving him an erection, and not the equally hot guy she was making out with.
Before he met Ryan Ross, Brendon had never met anyone that made him wonder why homosexuality was so bad in the eyes of the LDS. He got the reasoning that they gave, but he never tried to give it any deeper thought than that. It was just how things were.
His attraction to Ryan was a lot harder to ignore, and not only because he saw him all the time due to band practice. It got worse when he started actually getting to know Ryan, when they became friends and started getting closer. When it started being more than just mere attraction, he knew he had to do something about it.
'Doing something about it' turned out to be talking to the bishop of his ward about the situation, with the understanding that what they spoke about would not be mentioned to his parents. He had always liked Bishop Brough, and it was a better alternative than speaking directly to his father. He didn't want to think of what would happen if he even thought to admit having such thoughts. World War III at the Urie household, that's for sure.
It was a difficult conversation, drawn out and painful for both parties involved. It was the first time that Brendon admitted out loud that he might be gay, that he had been having such thoughts for longer than even he wanted to admit to himself. Bishop Brough had been taken aback, not having expected such a conversation, and it took him a few moments to regain his footing.
("Brendon, my son, it's always good to see you. What brings you here today? Is something troubling you?"
"Well, I guess you could say that, Bishop."
"Don't be shy, then. I'm always here to help and guide you, as is the Lord."
"I have been having...thoughts. Thoughts I should not be having."
"A normal thing for boys your age, Bren--"
"Thoughts about other boys."
"--don. Oh. Oh. I see. Well, then.")
Instead he went reciting trite lines that Brendon was almost expecting, although he was hoping for something different. Something besides "through faith in God, sincere repentance, and persistent effort" he could overcome these thoughts and become a good member of the Church again. He wanted to be told it was okay, because it didn't feel wrong when Ryan had smiled at him the other day, a real smile, letting his long, long fingers brush against the bare skin of Brendon's arm.
He hadn't missed the look that the bishop gave him when he reminded him that breaking the laws of chastity, especially engaging in homosexual relations, was grounds for excommunication from the Church. It was the look of a man who was taught to be tolerant, to love the person and hate the sin, but who still couldn't completely reconcile himself with such things. It was a warning.
The next day, Brendon missed band practice, and an angry Ryan Ross came calling on the Urie home. Brendon was lying on his bed, staring blankly at the ceiling, the door left half-open, when Ryan came to the door. He only knocked once before slipping through the opening and closing the door firmly behind him. "What the he-- heck, Urie? You knew we had practice today, I told you before! Where the fu-- where were you?" Even while angry, Ryan had learned to censor himself when under the Urie family's roof.
The silence continued, Brendon acknowledging Ryan's presence with only the slightest flicker of his eyes. He'd been like this pretty much since he had gotten back from seeing Bishop Brough, mind racing while he tried to reconcile the LDS' views of what was right and proper - what his parents would accept - with what felt right to him, being around Ryan, writing and playing music with him, Spencer, and Brent.
A weight dropped onto the edge of the bed, finally drawing Brendon's attention. "Hey, are you sick or something? If you were, you could have said something earlier, and I wouldn't have come over all pissed off and stuff."
"No, not sick. Homosexuality was officially taken off the list of mental illnesses back in 1992, so I couldn't exactly call out of band practice as gay." It was like Brendon's mouth just started operating with no permission from his brain, spewing words that he hadn't had any intention of saying. Jerking into a sitting position, Brendon met Ryan's wide-eyed gaze, but apparently his mouth no longer felt like blurting out things, even when now would be a prime time to backtrack or perhaps offer some sort of explanation.
Ryan was the one to break the silence that had thickened between them.
"So...you're gay? I mean, are you sure? Plenty of people get curious around our age, it's normal." The words were awkward, clumsy, not at all like the Ryan Ross that Brendon was used to, the one who could write such powerful lyrics that never faltered despite their heavy subject matter.
"It's not something that's just come up. It's something that I just can't keep ignoring anymore."
Laying back down on the bed, Brendon shifted closer to the wall, leaving more room for Ryan to either sit or stretch out next to him. Ryan did the latter, listening as Brendon let his words spill out of him, more organized than just a few moments before. He described his talk with Bishop Brough; he told Ryan what thoughts he had been having, but not who had brought the issue to a head.
The more he spoke, the easier it became. Ryan just listened, but that's all Brendon needed. He'd done too much listening to Bishop Brough, he didn't get to talk about how he was feeling, about the difficulties he was going through coming to terms with such a thing.
"Are you going to tell them?"
"No!" Brendon shook his head vehemently; there was no way he could tell his parents, not now. He was already skating on thin ice with them over the band. The last thing he needed was to break their hearts by telling them that he was gay. "Not--not right now, at least. Maybe some day."
Exhaling loudly - not sighing, because sighing is for girls, and while he might very well be gay, he was definitely not a chick - Brendon let his eyes close, feeling much more relaxed now that someone else knew what had been troubling him. He wasn't prepared for the tentative press of lips against his, barely a kiss really, or it wasn't until Brendon automatically deepened it, lips parting easily, tongue flicking against Ryan's lips, urging them open. The kiss was long and slow, tongue and lips, and Ryan's teeth against his lower lip, just once, before Brendon came to his senses, realizing what he was doing, and with who, and where. Pushing Ryan away was harder than he cared to admit, but the prospect of his mother finding them making out on his bed was more than enough motivation.
"I think," he said, breathing labored and eyes half-lidded, "I think you should probably go now."
Feeling Ryan freeze, Brendon bit his lip and pointed at the door. "I'd rather not watch my mom have a heart attack if she ended up catching us, okay?" He smiled a bit as he felt Ryan relax again. "I'll be at practice tomorrow, I promise."
"You'd better," Ryan said, a small smile on his face as well. "I'll kick your ass if you're not."
Things with the band were going great; better than great, even. The songs they were writing were getting better and better, and they had been working on recording them with GarageBand and getting them posted somewhere online. Maybe soon they'd be ready to play some live shows - that is, if they could find somewhere to play. The Vegas local scene kind of blew in that respect.
Everything else, however, pretty much sucked. Going to seminary in the mornings before school and temple on the weekend with his parents just made Brendon antsy. Listening to the ecclesiastical leaders speak only had him keeping a running mental commentary on how he didn't agree with anything they said. Even despite his growing disillusionment with the LDS, it still warred in his brain with everything he had been raised to believe, what his family believed and expected from him. Being true to himself and what made him happy, and keeping with what his family wanted for him seemed like an impossible goal.
It didn't help that Brendon had found out about Affirmation, a Gay and Lesbian Mormon organization, and had read about the things that the Church used to do to people who had "homosexual feelings". Accounts of suicides after people were thrown in mental institutions or treated to aversion therapy, or those who were just shunned by their families made him even more sure in his convictions that he wouldn't let his parents know, not now, not yet.
The fact that he'd been skipping out of youth group to go to band practice hadn't slipped by his parents either, and they were less than pleased with him. He just didn't feel like he had anything in common with the other Mormon kids anymore. Not with those who still believed in the Word, who would try and lead him on the path of righteousness if he ever told them the truth about him. Brendon believed in music, and in Ryan Ross.
But Ryan was one of Brendon's problems as well. Ever since the kiss in Brendon's bedroom, Ryan had been trying to catch him off-guard, either when they were hanging out, or after band practice. It started off as innocent kisses, but lately Ryan seemed to be pressing for more, and was getting frustrated when Brendon would stop things before they really got started.
("Ry-- the fuck? Ross, what the fuck; stop."
"Don't tell me you're pussying out. Again."
"I told you already, I don't want to do this. Not now, at least."
"Oh yeah? Tell that to your dick, then, since it's leaking all over my hand."
"Because you fucking grabbed it! What do you expect?"
"I expect you to let me give you a fucking blowjob, okay? Shit, anything, even. This is starting to get ridiculous. And jerking off alone is getting really boring."
"...you're a real asshole, Ross. Fuck it; I'm going home. I'll see you at practice tomorrow."
"Motherfucking-- Brendon! I didn't mean that, okay? Dammit.")
Ryan didn't understand Brendon's reluctance, and Brendon couldn't bring himself to explain that, when the time came, he wanted to leave the church on his own terms, on terms that his parents could eventually forgive him for. He didn't want to run the risk of excommunication, which would embarrass his entire family in the process. Better to play it safe and wait for the right time.
Sometimes you can't wait for the right time to come along, because if you do, you could lose something else that's equally important to you.
Ryan showing up at Brendon's house at stupid o'clock in the morning on a Sunday, when the rest of the Urie household was getting ready to go to the temple for the Sunday service was something Brendon would never in a million years have expected. He was usually lucky if Ryan was even awake after he got back.
"Brendon!" Ryan was practically vibrating with energy, a state that Brendon had never seen him in. In fact, Brendon's mom almost didn't let him answer the door.
("Brendon, it looks like he's on the drugs!"
"What? Mom! Ryan's not on anything, really. He'd never do that stuff!"
"I wouldn't be so sure, sweetheart. Look at him, he's all...twitchy. And don't druggies get all thin like that too?"
"...Mom, I'm going to forget you said that. Look, I promise Ryan's not on 'the drugs', and he'll be gone before we have to leave. He obviously has something to tell me, or he wouldn't even be awake right now.")
"Brendon! You will never believe who I was speaking to last night."
It was probably some weird girl that lurks on Ryan's livejournal staring at pictures of his ass, so Brendon was sure that he didn't want to know. In fact, if it was something stupid like that, Brendon would be pretty pissed that Ryan showed up at his house like this. "Patrick Stump? I have no idea, Ryan, that's what you're here to tell me, right?"
He wasn't ready for Ryan to start laughing, though. "Huh?"
"You're close," Ryan said, his mouth stretching into what was clearly a shit-eating grin. "Pete Wentz."
A beat passed, Brendon just staring at Ryan, wide-eyed. "Excuse me? Did I just hallucinate that, or did you just say you were talking to Pete Wentz?"
"No, I was talking to the Pete Wentz. Aaaaand...he wants to hear us. Live. Brendon, he liked our music! He might even want to sign us!"
"Holy shit. Holy shit. You're kidding me, you've got to be fucking kidding me!" Brendon would like to say that he wasn't flailing and jumping around like a twelve-year-old girl, except for the fact that he totally was. And Ryan was totally doing it with him, which made it slightly more okay, because at least he wasn't the only one. "Pete fucking Wentz likes our music!"
"Brendon! Language!"
The shrill voice calling from inside made Brendon wince. "Crap. Before she freaks out any more, I should probably go back inside."
The disappointment on Ryan's face was plain to see.
"I guess that means I can't kiss you, huh?"
Looking back at the living room windows Brendon saw the curtains move, which meant his mother was watching them, and he shook his head regretfully. "Not unless you want to be short a singer when you play for Pete."
"He's kind of expecting you to be singing. Besides, I told him that our singer was totally hot, so."
Brendon wasn't quite sure if the grin on Ryan's face was because he was kidding or because he actually meant it, so he just cocked a brow. "Oh really? I guess we can't disappoint him; Pete Wentz has to have the opportunity to revel in my hotness."
"Brendon!"
Another wince. "I've really got to go, she's about to have a total spaz fit."
Ryan nodded. "Yeah, just come by whenever you can get away. I'll probably be sleeping, but whatever. Wake me up. Dad shouldn't be home, so just like. Call, or throw rocks at my window or something."
After watching Ryan go back to the curb and get in his car, Brendon slipped back inside, practically knocking into both his mother and father, who were standing there waiting, disapproving looks on their faces.
"Brendon, I don't think I want you to associate with Ryan anymore. The boy is obviously a bad influence on you. And look at him! Showing up here so early on a Sunday, and yet he can't be bothered to attend services himself!"
"Mom, I can't! Didn't you even hear what he was saying out there? We--"
"No, Brendon, all I heard was you swearing. What is that if not a perfect example of how much you've changed since you've started spending time with him?"
"It's a change for the better! I'm never going to be the perfect son you want; you've already got my brothers, you don't need me to be like that too." Couldn't they see that their expectations for him were slowly suffocating them? Brendon flailed his arms around a bit as if to demonstrate just that, but it was ignored, like it always was ignored.
"Brendon Boyd Urie, don't you dare talk back to your mother like that. Now let's go. We're going to be late enough as it is."
Brendon crossed his arms and set his mouth in a firm line. "No."
"That wasn't a request, Brendon; that's an order. Now do it." Boyd Urie was an imposing man. Brendon usually didn't notice it except for times like this when his father saw fit to show that side of himself. It wasn't a side that Brendon was fond of.
"Dad, no. I can't. You won't even listen to me when I'm trying to tell you that the best thing ever is happening to me. This guy, he likes our band, and maybe even wants to sign us!" Brendon's chest was heaving, his eyes flashing, each word completely earnest and heartfelt. "Going to temple doesn't matter, all of this doesn't matter. I don't believe in it anymore. If anything, music is my religion, not the ramblings of Joseph Smith."
"Sacrilege! Brendon, you take that back." Grace's eyes were wide; scared. Her hands were shaking as she reached out for him, but he shrugged it off.
"I'm sorry, I can't."
"I'm sorry too, then." His father's voice was heavy, apologetic. "Brendon, I think it would be best if you weren't here when we get home, for now at least. Not until you're ready to think this over and talk about this sensibly." Grace's cry of "Boyd--" was cut off, shushed, as he ushered her out the door, leaving Brendon staring after them blankly.
He must have been on auto-pilot after that, because he couldn't remember how it happened or how he got there, but Brendon found himself on Ryan's doorstep, a bulging backpack slung over one shoulder and his guitar case in hand. Thankfully, Ryan's dad's car was missing from their driveway. Brendon wasn't sure if he was up for another parental encounter right now.
Banging on the door for a good minute or so finally brought a rumpled Ryan to the door, dressed only in a tee shirt and boxers, and tube socks on his feet, though one of them was on its way to working itself off his foot.
"Wha-- Brendon? What are you doing here?"
Brendon shrugged, trying for a smile and landing more at a grimace. "I kind of told my parents that I didn't want to do the whole Mormon thing anymore, and they kind of told me to not be home when they got back from temple. So. Hi?"
Ryan's eyes were like saucers, his jaw dropping in surprise.
"Fuck, you're," his eyes searched Brendon's intently. "You're not kidding. Shit, get inside, come on."
Stepping through the door once Ryan got out of the way, Brendon shuffled towards Ryan's room, feeling the slightest tremble in his knees. "Yeah, no. Not kidding, not so much. I didn't really plan on coming here, but I wasn't really sure where else to go, either. I mean, I guess I could have went to Brent or Spencer's, but you know how that is. I mean, if it was you, you could go to Spence's, but it'd be kind of weird for me? Though, maybe it's kind of weird for me to be here too, but I just--"
"Brendon, you're rambling."
Taking Brendon's guitar from his grip, tugging a bit to get him to let go, Ryan also took his backpack and set them both down on the floor. "Now, you just woke me up. So we're going to go lie down, and you can either keep rambling at me, or we can both take a nap, and we'll talk more when we get up. Okay?"
Brendon was ready to protest this, to object strongly and tell Ryan that he's not a kid to be told what to do, but the truth of the matter is that Brendon wants to lie down with Ryan in bed and maybe cuddle a bit. The rest of his world was falling down around his ears, and he wasn't sure if his parents would let him back in the house again, but Ryan was still there. Ryan, with his big words and bigger plans; Ryan, with his shy smile and soft lips. Ryan, who just felt right, like nothing in Brendon's life ever had before except for when he was playing music.
So maybe things were going to be tough for a while, and maybe things weren't happening exactly how he thought they would. Maybe he thought he'd have more time, and would get to do this right, but that can't be changed. And maybe it's for the best that it's all happening this way, like it's meant to be. And yeah, maybe everything would be okay in the end.
"Okay."
From: halftone
Title: take these broken wings (and learn to fly)
Rating: PG-13
Characters: Brendon Urie, Ryan Ross, Boyd Urie, Grace Urie
Word Count: 3,468
Warnings: a smidge of fluff, a bunch more angst, religious themes
Disclaimer: I do not own the members of Panic! At The Disco, the events contained herein are a fictional interpretation of how some real events took place.
Summary: Before he met Ryan Ross, Brendon had never met anyone that made him wonder why homosexuality was so bad in the eyes of the LDS. He got the reasoning that they gave, but he never tried to give it any deeper thought than that. It was just how things were.
Notes: So, when I first saw your request, I was dead-set on writing Panic! GSF/Zack, because it's Zack, and I love Zack, and he needs some love! But that idea just wasn't panning out, so I defaulted to some OTP fic, because there's no such thing as too much OTP fic! I also really intended on there being some porn in there, and I might try to write some in the same universe, like a deleted scene, but it felt like to me that it just didn't work in this fic. However, I really do hope that you like this all the same. Much love and thanks to W for her support and encouragement, and to W and F for looking this over and making sure it wasn't awful!
Brendon would always associate his big gay crisis with meeting Ryan Ross. Before that, he could force himself to ignore it when his brain decided to tell him that certain guys were attractive, and he could pretend that it was the hot girl on the TV giving him an erection, and not the equally hot guy she was making out with.
Before he met Ryan Ross, Brendon had never met anyone that made him wonder why homosexuality was so bad in the eyes of the LDS. He got the reasoning that they gave, but he never tried to give it any deeper thought than that. It was just how things were.
His attraction to Ryan was a lot harder to ignore, and not only because he saw him all the time due to band practice. It got worse when he started actually getting to know Ryan, when they became friends and started getting closer. When it started being more than just mere attraction, he knew he had to do something about it.
'Doing something about it' turned out to be talking to the bishop of his ward about the situation, with the understanding that what they spoke about would not be mentioned to his parents. He had always liked Bishop Brough, and it was a better alternative than speaking directly to his father. He didn't want to think of what would happen if he even thought to admit having such thoughts. World War III at the Urie household, that's for sure.
It was a difficult conversation, drawn out and painful for both parties involved. It was the first time that Brendon admitted out loud that he might be gay, that he had been having such thoughts for longer than even he wanted to admit to himself. Bishop Brough had been taken aback, not having expected such a conversation, and it took him a few moments to regain his footing.
("Brendon, my son, it's always good to see you. What brings you here today? Is something troubling you?"
"Well, I guess you could say that, Bishop."
"Don't be shy, then. I'm always here to help and guide you, as is the Lord."
"I have been having...thoughts. Thoughts I should not be having."
"A normal thing for boys your age, Bren--"
"Thoughts about other boys."
"--don. Oh. Oh. I see. Well, then.")
Instead he went reciting trite lines that Brendon was almost expecting, although he was hoping for something different. Something besides "through faith in God, sincere repentance, and persistent effort" he could overcome these thoughts and become a good member of the Church again. He wanted to be told it was okay, because it didn't feel wrong when Ryan had smiled at him the other day, a real smile, letting his long, long fingers brush against the bare skin of Brendon's arm.
He hadn't missed the look that the bishop gave him when he reminded him that breaking the laws of chastity, especially engaging in homosexual relations, was grounds for excommunication from the Church. It was the look of a man who was taught to be tolerant, to love the person and hate the sin, but who still couldn't completely reconcile himself with such things. It was a warning.
The next day, Brendon missed band practice, and an angry Ryan Ross came calling on the Urie home. Brendon was lying on his bed, staring blankly at the ceiling, the door left half-open, when Ryan came to the door. He only knocked once before slipping through the opening and closing the door firmly behind him. "What the he-- heck, Urie? You knew we had practice today, I told you before! Where the fu-- where were you?" Even while angry, Ryan had learned to censor himself when under the Urie family's roof.
The silence continued, Brendon acknowledging Ryan's presence with only the slightest flicker of his eyes. He'd been like this pretty much since he had gotten back from seeing Bishop Brough, mind racing while he tried to reconcile the LDS' views of what was right and proper - what his parents would accept - with what felt right to him, being around Ryan, writing and playing music with him, Spencer, and Brent.
A weight dropped onto the edge of the bed, finally drawing Brendon's attention. "Hey, are you sick or something? If you were, you could have said something earlier, and I wouldn't have come over all pissed off and stuff."
"No, not sick. Homosexuality was officially taken off the list of mental illnesses back in 1992, so I couldn't exactly call out of band practice as gay." It was like Brendon's mouth just started operating with no permission from his brain, spewing words that he hadn't had any intention of saying. Jerking into a sitting position, Brendon met Ryan's wide-eyed gaze, but apparently his mouth no longer felt like blurting out things, even when now would be a prime time to backtrack or perhaps offer some sort of explanation.
Ryan was the one to break the silence that had thickened between them.
"So...you're gay? I mean, are you sure? Plenty of people get curious around our age, it's normal." The words were awkward, clumsy, not at all like the Ryan Ross that Brendon was used to, the one who could write such powerful lyrics that never faltered despite their heavy subject matter.
"It's not something that's just come up. It's something that I just can't keep ignoring anymore."
Laying back down on the bed, Brendon shifted closer to the wall, leaving more room for Ryan to either sit or stretch out next to him. Ryan did the latter, listening as Brendon let his words spill out of him, more organized than just a few moments before. He described his talk with Bishop Brough; he told Ryan what thoughts he had been having, but not who had brought the issue to a head.
The more he spoke, the easier it became. Ryan just listened, but that's all Brendon needed. He'd done too much listening to Bishop Brough, he didn't get to talk about how he was feeling, about the difficulties he was going through coming to terms with such a thing.
"Are you going to tell them?"
"No!" Brendon shook his head vehemently; there was no way he could tell his parents, not now. He was already skating on thin ice with them over the band. The last thing he needed was to break their hearts by telling them that he was gay. "Not--not right now, at least. Maybe some day."
Exhaling loudly - not sighing, because sighing is for girls, and while he might very well be gay, he was definitely not a chick - Brendon let his eyes close, feeling much more relaxed now that someone else knew what had been troubling him. He wasn't prepared for the tentative press of lips against his, barely a kiss really, or it wasn't until Brendon automatically deepened it, lips parting easily, tongue flicking against Ryan's lips, urging them open. The kiss was long and slow, tongue and lips, and Ryan's teeth against his lower lip, just once, before Brendon came to his senses, realizing what he was doing, and with who, and where. Pushing Ryan away was harder than he cared to admit, but the prospect of his mother finding them making out on his bed was more than enough motivation.
"I think," he said, breathing labored and eyes half-lidded, "I think you should probably go now."
Feeling Ryan freeze, Brendon bit his lip and pointed at the door. "I'd rather not watch my mom have a heart attack if she ended up catching us, okay?" He smiled a bit as he felt Ryan relax again. "I'll be at practice tomorrow, I promise."
"You'd better," Ryan said, a small smile on his face as well. "I'll kick your ass if you're not."
Things with the band were going great; better than great, even. The songs they were writing were getting better and better, and they had been working on recording them with GarageBand and getting them posted somewhere online. Maybe soon they'd be ready to play some live shows - that is, if they could find somewhere to play. The Vegas local scene kind of blew in that respect.
Everything else, however, pretty much sucked. Going to seminary in the mornings before school and temple on the weekend with his parents just made Brendon antsy. Listening to the ecclesiastical leaders speak only had him keeping a running mental commentary on how he didn't agree with anything they said. Even despite his growing disillusionment with the LDS, it still warred in his brain with everything he had been raised to believe, what his family believed and expected from him. Being true to himself and what made him happy, and keeping with what his family wanted for him seemed like an impossible goal.
It didn't help that Brendon had found out about Affirmation, a Gay and Lesbian Mormon organization, and had read about the things that the Church used to do to people who had "homosexual feelings". Accounts of suicides after people were thrown in mental institutions or treated to aversion therapy, or those who were just shunned by their families made him even more sure in his convictions that he wouldn't let his parents know, not now, not yet.
The fact that he'd been skipping out of youth group to go to band practice hadn't slipped by his parents either, and they were less than pleased with him. He just didn't feel like he had anything in common with the other Mormon kids anymore. Not with those who still believed in the Word, who would try and lead him on the path of righteousness if he ever told them the truth about him. Brendon believed in music, and in Ryan Ross.
But Ryan was one of Brendon's problems as well. Ever since the kiss in Brendon's bedroom, Ryan had been trying to catch him off-guard, either when they were hanging out, or after band practice. It started off as innocent kisses, but lately Ryan seemed to be pressing for more, and was getting frustrated when Brendon would stop things before they really got started.
("Ry-- the fuck? Ross, what the fuck; stop."
"Don't tell me you're pussying out. Again."
"I told you already, I don't want to do this. Not now, at least."
"Oh yeah? Tell that to your dick, then, since it's leaking all over my hand."
"Because you fucking grabbed it! What do you expect?"
"I expect you to let me give you a fucking blowjob, okay? Shit, anything, even. This is starting to get ridiculous. And jerking off alone is getting really boring."
"...you're a real asshole, Ross. Fuck it; I'm going home. I'll see you at practice tomorrow."
"Motherfucking-- Brendon! I didn't mean that, okay? Dammit.")
Ryan didn't understand Brendon's reluctance, and Brendon couldn't bring himself to explain that, when the time came, he wanted to leave the church on his own terms, on terms that his parents could eventually forgive him for. He didn't want to run the risk of excommunication, which would embarrass his entire family in the process. Better to play it safe and wait for the right time.
Sometimes you can't wait for the right time to come along, because if you do, you could lose something else that's equally important to you.
Ryan showing up at Brendon's house at stupid o'clock in the morning on a Sunday, when the rest of the Urie household was getting ready to go to the temple for the Sunday service was something Brendon would never in a million years have expected. He was usually lucky if Ryan was even awake after he got back.
"Brendon!" Ryan was practically vibrating with energy, a state that Brendon had never seen him in. In fact, Brendon's mom almost didn't let him answer the door.
("Brendon, it looks like he's on the drugs!"
"What? Mom! Ryan's not on anything, really. He'd never do that stuff!"
"I wouldn't be so sure, sweetheart. Look at him, he's all...twitchy. And don't druggies get all thin like that too?"
"...Mom, I'm going to forget you said that. Look, I promise Ryan's not on 'the drugs', and he'll be gone before we have to leave. He obviously has something to tell me, or he wouldn't even be awake right now.")
"Brendon! You will never believe who I was speaking to last night."
It was probably some weird girl that lurks on Ryan's livejournal staring at pictures of his ass, so Brendon was sure that he didn't want to know. In fact, if it was something stupid like that, Brendon would be pretty pissed that Ryan showed up at his house like this. "Patrick Stump? I have no idea, Ryan, that's what you're here to tell me, right?"
He wasn't ready for Ryan to start laughing, though. "Huh?"
"You're close," Ryan said, his mouth stretching into what was clearly a shit-eating grin. "Pete Wentz."
A beat passed, Brendon just staring at Ryan, wide-eyed. "Excuse me? Did I just hallucinate that, or did you just say you were talking to Pete Wentz?"
"No, I was talking to the Pete Wentz. Aaaaand...he wants to hear us. Live. Brendon, he liked our music! He might even want to sign us!"
"Holy shit. Holy shit. You're kidding me, you've got to be fucking kidding me!" Brendon would like to say that he wasn't flailing and jumping around like a twelve-year-old girl, except for the fact that he totally was. And Ryan was totally doing it with him, which made it slightly more okay, because at least he wasn't the only one. "Pete fucking Wentz likes our music!"
"Brendon! Language!"
The shrill voice calling from inside made Brendon wince. "Crap. Before she freaks out any more, I should probably go back inside."
The disappointment on Ryan's face was plain to see.
"I guess that means I can't kiss you, huh?"
Looking back at the living room windows Brendon saw the curtains move, which meant his mother was watching them, and he shook his head regretfully. "Not unless you want to be short a singer when you play for Pete."
"He's kind of expecting you to be singing. Besides, I told him that our singer was totally hot, so."
Brendon wasn't quite sure if the grin on Ryan's face was because he was kidding or because he actually meant it, so he just cocked a brow. "Oh really? I guess we can't disappoint him; Pete Wentz has to have the opportunity to revel in my hotness."
"Brendon!"
Another wince. "I've really got to go, she's about to have a total spaz fit."
Ryan nodded. "Yeah, just come by whenever you can get away. I'll probably be sleeping, but whatever. Wake me up. Dad shouldn't be home, so just like. Call, or throw rocks at my window or something."
After watching Ryan go back to the curb and get in his car, Brendon slipped back inside, practically knocking into both his mother and father, who were standing there waiting, disapproving looks on their faces.
"Brendon, I don't think I want you to associate with Ryan anymore. The boy is obviously a bad influence on you. And look at him! Showing up here so early on a Sunday, and yet he can't be bothered to attend services himself!"
"Mom, I can't! Didn't you even hear what he was saying out there? We--"
"No, Brendon, all I heard was you swearing. What is that if not a perfect example of how much you've changed since you've started spending time with him?"
"It's a change for the better! I'm never going to be the perfect son you want; you've already got my brothers, you don't need me to be like that too." Couldn't they see that their expectations for him were slowly suffocating them? Brendon flailed his arms around a bit as if to demonstrate just that, but it was ignored, like it always was ignored.
"Brendon Boyd Urie, don't you dare talk back to your mother like that. Now let's go. We're going to be late enough as it is."
Brendon crossed his arms and set his mouth in a firm line. "No."
"That wasn't a request, Brendon; that's an order. Now do it." Boyd Urie was an imposing man. Brendon usually didn't notice it except for times like this when his father saw fit to show that side of himself. It wasn't a side that Brendon was fond of.
"Dad, no. I can't. You won't even listen to me when I'm trying to tell you that the best thing ever is happening to me. This guy, he likes our band, and maybe even wants to sign us!" Brendon's chest was heaving, his eyes flashing, each word completely earnest and heartfelt. "Going to temple doesn't matter, all of this doesn't matter. I don't believe in it anymore. If anything, music is my religion, not the ramblings of Joseph Smith."
"Sacrilege! Brendon, you take that back." Grace's eyes were wide; scared. Her hands were shaking as she reached out for him, but he shrugged it off.
"I'm sorry, I can't."
"I'm sorry too, then." His father's voice was heavy, apologetic. "Brendon, I think it would be best if you weren't here when we get home, for now at least. Not until you're ready to think this over and talk about this sensibly." Grace's cry of "Boyd--" was cut off, shushed, as he ushered her out the door, leaving Brendon staring after them blankly.
He must have been on auto-pilot after that, because he couldn't remember how it happened or how he got there, but Brendon found himself on Ryan's doorstep, a bulging backpack slung over one shoulder and his guitar case in hand. Thankfully, Ryan's dad's car was missing from their driveway. Brendon wasn't sure if he was up for another parental encounter right now.
Banging on the door for a good minute or so finally brought a rumpled Ryan to the door, dressed only in a tee shirt and boxers, and tube socks on his feet, though one of them was on its way to working itself off his foot.
"Wha-- Brendon? What are you doing here?"
Brendon shrugged, trying for a smile and landing more at a grimace. "I kind of told my parents that I didn't want to do the whole Mormon thing anymore, and they kind of told me to not be home when they got back from temple. So. Hi?"
Ryan's eyes were like saucers, his jaw dropping in surprise.
"Fuck, you're," his eyes searched Brendon's intently. "You're not kidding. Shit, get inside, come on."
Stepping through the door once Ryan got out of the way, Brendon shuffled towards Ryan's room, feeling the slightest tremble in his knees. "Yeah, no. Not kidding, not so much. I didn't really plan on coming here, but I wasn't really sure where else to go, either. I mean, I guess I could have went to Brent or Spencer's, but you know how that is. I mean, if it was you, you could go to Spence's, but it'd be kind of weird for me? Though, maybe it's kind of weird for me to be here too, but I just--"
"Brendon, you're rambling."
Taking Brendon's guitar from his grip, tugging a bit to get him to let go, Ryan also took his backpack and set them both down on the floor. "Now, you just woke me up. So we're going to go lie down, and you can either keep rambling at me, or we can both take a nap, and we'll talk more when we get up. Okay?"
Brendon was ready to protest this, to object strongly and tell Ryan that he's not a kid to be told what to do, but the truth of the matter is that Brendon wants to lie down with Ryan in bed and maybe cuddle a bit. The rest of his world was falling down around his ears, and he wasn't sure if his parents would let him back in the house again, but Ryan was still there. Ryan, with his big words and bigger plans; Ryan, with his shy smile and soft lips. Ryan, who just felt right, like nothing in Brendon's life ever had before except for when he was playing music.
So maybe things were going to be tough for a while, and maybe things weren't happening exactly how he thought they would. Maybe he thought he'd have more time, and would get to do this right, but that can't be changed. And maybe it's for the best that it's all happening this way, like it's meant to be. And yeah, maybe everything would be okay in the end.
"Okay."