Love Is Spelt Like Your Fist ~ Chapter Eighteen
Title: Love Is Spelt Like Your Fist
Author: repulsive_x
Rating: I'm just gonna keep it at R for general sexual content, swearing, alcohol and maybe some drug use, abuse.
Pairing: Brendon Urie/Ryan Ross, Brendon Urie/Jon Walker
POV: Third
Summary: Brendon Urie is what some would call 'privileged'. He was born into money, and was graced with good looks. He has good friends, and an amazing boyfriend that most people only dream of. Then Ryan Ross came along, and made that all change.
Disclaimer: fake like bdens denial of being a flaming homosexual (and for once in a fic, i would also like it to stay this way)
Beta: Bec,
bilvy_lover
Author's Notes: This is a fic about an abusive relationship, so if you're sensitive to that kind of thing, DO NOT READ!
Previous Chapters
C H A P T E R ` E I G H T E E N
When Ryan finally passes out, there's far too much running through Brendon's mind that he cant even being to try and fall asleep himself. All he can think about is Ryan's slurred words and the look in Spencer's eyes.
Eventually, with the clock close to five, Brendon pulls himself from Ryan's hold and out of bed. He's suprised to see, when he passes Spencer and Haley's bedroom, that their light is still on and pouring out through the small crack in the door, along wit their soft, fainted voices.
He heads downstairs, into the kitchen and pours himself a glass of water. Before going back upstairs, to most likely not sleep, he stops infront of the large window facing the ocean and just stands there, forehead pressed against the cool glass.
Whether Ryan was drunk or not, the things that came out of his mouth was something he never, ever expected to hear. It should probably make things better, that Ryan apologized for what he does, that he actually does cares, but in a way, it only makes it worse to Brendon because now he knows that Ryan is aware how much he hurts him, but yet, still continues to do it. And what did he even mean by he cant help it? How can you not help hurting someone? How can you not help saying the things you say? How can you not help shoving someone, grabbing them, hitting them?
Berndon eventually pulls himself from the window, and heads back up the stairs, however, this time when he passes by Haley and Spencer's door, he stops. They're still talking, quiet and murmured, and Brendon leands forward, straining his ears to listen. Brendon isn't usually a snoop like this, not by any means, but he just cant help it. Not with the strange looks Spencer had been giving him all night, and he just wants to know why.
He wasn't even really expecting to hear any answer, or even anything about him for that matter, as he stands there with his ear against the crack in the door, but then he hears it, the faint murmur of his name coming from Haley's mouth. He leans in closer, ears perking.
" - good guy," Spencer says, "but Brendon's just a kid, I doubt he's even eighteen."
Brendon curls his fingers around his glass, and frowns. So that's why Spencer had been staring at him like that all night? Because he's not eighteen?
"I know Ryan means well, but..." Spencer stops, voice trailing, and Brendon shrinks back, holding his breath, scared Spencer noticed he was standing outside of their bedroom, eavesdropping. "Look," he continues, and Brendon breathes out a tiny sigh of relief, "he's my best friend, but... I'm just worried. He went through a lot of shit when he lived with his aunt. His uncle - he abused him." Brendon breathes back in sharp, and it pierces hard at his chest, stinging. "And I mean, I'm not saying Ryan would ever do that, but it's just - he keeps it inside, you know? He keeps it all bottled up, and I'm scared that he might take it out on Brendon, without meaning to. And maybe it's just me trying to find something, but Brendon - he seems a little closed off, you know? Always nervous or something, it seems."
Haley says something, something that Brendon doesn't quite catch, her voice too quiet over the steady pounding in his head.
"I know he's not, but. I just cant help but think that maybe he might do something..." he pauses, sighs and says, sounding almost pained, "many times, the abusees become the abusers. I'm just worried, that's all."
Brendon doesn't stick around to hear what he has to say next, he figures he's heard enough. He practically takes off down he hallway, back towards his and Ryan's bedroom, face hot. He closes the door behind him with a soft snap, and stands there, watching Ryan as he sleeps, soft and peaceful, and clenches his hand tight around his glass of water.
Brendon walks around to his side of the bed, places the cup on the nightstand, and slowly, carefully gets in under the covers beside Ryan. He looks over at him, eyes closed and soft hair wisping over his eyes and flushed cheeks.
It all makes sense now, it does. Ryan's the way he is for a reason, he's just doing what he's always known, what happened to him. It's no excuse for what he does, not really, but Brendon can understand now. It makes sense. Ryan could be a lot worse. He could say a lot worse things, do a lot worse things. Ryan's only physically hurt him a few times, and it was nothing big, not really, just a small slap or two, four. He knows Ryan loves him, he just has a hard way of showing it with his past. He never had a loving family, or at least someone there to, he lived with abuse and poverity.
Brendon knows now, he understands, and he can help him. Ryan just needs someone to love him back, treat him well, to not hurt him, and Brendon can be that person. He can show Ryan that he does matter, that he is a good person, and that Brendon does love him.
He moves down, further into the covers, and presses up against Ryan, close, wrapping an arm around his waist and pressing his nose into the curve of Ryan's neck.
Ryan shifts against him, lets out a small, sleepy noise and curls even further into Brendon.
"I love you," Brendon whispers into his skin, and this time, he really does mean it.
- x -
It's no surprise that when Ryan wakes up in the morning he's cranky and hungover, and shows no sign that he remembers anything from last night. Brendon's not sure if he's thankful for that or not, however, when Ryan's in the shower, Brendon sneaks off downstairs, figuring it'd probably be the best for all of them if he just left him alone until he felt better.
Spencer and Ryan go to town to buy more beer - which Brendon thinks is pretty stupid considerring all the alcohol they already have already - and food, while Haley and him stay back and hang out on the deck, talking. Brendon, not once, mentions anything about overhearing their conversation last night, somehow, he figures, she probably wouldn't appreciate that too much.
She asks questions about him and Ryan, how they met, how long they've been together, if they live together, and Brendon's not sure if she's genuinely interested or if she's trying to find clues if Ryan really does abuse him like Spencer suspects. Either way, Brendon doesn't give her enough information to come to any conclusion.
"Me and Spencer started dating when we were sixteen," she says, with a soft, nostagic smile. "But we knew each other long before that. It was the classic, best-friends-fall-in-love story."
"Do you guys plan on ever getting married?"
She sighs, and Brendon can sense a little bit of sadness to it. "Oh, I dont know," she answers, then shrugs. "I guess maybe one day, if Spencer ever asks me." She lets out an obviously forced laugh, and says, "I mean, it's really no big deal though, we do live together. Plus, I mean," she gives him a little flick of her wrist, "I'm only twenty-one, so, there's lots of time."
Brendon nods. "Yeah..."
"So, are you out of school?" she asks, changing the subject.
Brendon freezes, because he's not quite sure what answer Ryan wanted him to give or not. He was never really quite clear on that part. A moment passes, and Brendon decides on the truth. "Um, no," he says. "This is my last year though."
"Ah," she says, then nods.
Ryan and Spencer come out on the deck, not even five minutes later, a cold beer already in both of their hands, dripping with condensation. Spencer hands one to Haley, who graciously accepts, and Ryan, hands one to Brendon, who makes sure to, very politely, decline.
Ryan's lips twitch together, like he's actually going to get mad at him because he doesn't want to drink at two in the afternoon, but then after a moment, he shrugs and says, "oh well, more for me."
When Brendon looks up, Spencer's eyes are on this time, and this time, he knows.
- x -
Later that night, Brendon's standing out on the deck, by himself, beer in hand, staring down at the ocean below. The rest of them are inside, playing poker on the dining room table because it's too windy outside and was blowing the cards around when they attempted earlier. Brendon's never been a fan of poker.
Five minutes later, Brendon hears the patio door open and close behind him, and he doesn't have to turn around to know it's Ryan.
Ryan wraps his arms around his middle, pulling him close, his chest pressed flush against his back. "I'm really happy you came out here." He nudges his nose behind his ear, pressing into his skin, then kisses his earlobe. "Me too," Brendon replies, and dances his fingers along the wooden railing.
"Spencer and Haley really like you."
"That's good," Brendon says, "I like them too."
Ryan doesn't say anything, he just kisses his hair, back to his ear, his jaw, his neck. He runs his fingers across his belly, and murmurs, "you're perfect, you know that?"
Brendon wants to laugh. "No," he says. "I'm really not." It's sad because Brendon can remember a time when he thought that about himself. Well, maybe not perfect, but something along those lines.
"Yeah," Ryan urges, "you are, Bren."
This time, Brendon lets out a small, airy laugh along with the shake of his head. He doesn't say anything else.
Minutes pass, five, maybe ten, with them standing there, Ryan's arms still wrapped tight around him, not a word spoken.
Brendon takes a deep breath, inhaling the salt in the air that drifts from the ocean below, and god, does Brendon ever love it out here. The mountains, the ocean, trees, grass, sand. He loves how he can sees the stars out here, all of them, shining brightly up in the sky, the ones that get lost in the blinding lights of Vegas. Jon and him used to talk about moving out here sometimes, once they graduated, and it depresses Brendon to a great extent that something he used to be so hopeful for, so excited for, will now, never, ever happen.
Eventually, Ryan tugs at one of the loops on Brendon's pants, snapping him out of his thoughts. "We should probably go back inside," he says.
Brendon nods, and Ryan entangles his arms from his waist. Brendon takes one last look up at the sky, and follows Ryan inside.
- x -
That night, in bed, Ryan curls up next to Brendon, and says, without a blink of an eyelash, "Bren, I want you to move in with me when we get back."
Brendon swallows, long and hard, and stares up at the cieling. Moments pass, Ryan breathing heavily against his ear, before he clears his throat. "I-I don't know, Ryan," he starts with a bit of a nervous stutter. "We've only been together for a couple months, and I'm still in school and..." It's one thing for Brendon to handle Ryan now, his insults and jabs, because he knows he always has a place to escape to, his home, but it's another thing for Brendon to live with him, have that be his home and have nowhere else to go to. Brendon loves him, and he's not going to leave him anytime soon, but he also, really, really doesn't want to live with him. Not yet, anyway.
"Come on, Bren," he presses. "You practically already live me, you're over so much. Plus, it's not like you cant go to school just because you're living with me. We love each other, right? That's all that should matter."
"I - " he starts, then stops.
Ryan looks up at him, pleading, with round, dark eyes.
In the end, Brendon agrees.
A/N: sorry guys, its shorter than most, but i hope you liked it anyway <3
Author: repulsive_x
Rating: I'm just gonna keep it at R for general sexual content, swearing, alcohol and maybe some drug use, abuse.
Pairing: Brendon Urie/Ryan Ross, Brendon Urie/Jon Walker
POV: Third
Summary: Brendon Urie is what some would call 'privileged'. He was born into money, and was graced with good looks. He has good friends, and an amazing boyfriend that most people only dream of. Then Ryan Ross came along, and made that all change.
Disclaimer: fake like bdens denial of being a flaming homosexual (and for once in a fic, i would also like it to stay this way)
Beta: Bec,
bilvy_lover
Author's Notes: This is a fic about an abusive relationship, so if you're sensitive to that kind of thing, DO NOT READ!
Previous Chapters
C H A P T E R ` E I G H T E E N
When Ryan finally passes out, there's far too much running through Brendon's mind that he cant even being to try and fall asleep himself. All he can think about is Ryan's slurred words and the look in Spencer's eyes.
Eventually, with the clock close to five, Brendon pulls himself from Ryan's hold and out of bed. He's suprised to see, when he passes Spencer and Haley's bedroom, that their light is still on and pouring out through the small crack in the door, along wit their soft, fainted voices.
He heads downstairs, into the kitchen and pours himself a glass of water. Before going back upstairs, to most likely not sleep, he stops infront of the large window facing the ocean and just stands there, forehead pressed against the cool glass.
Whether Ryan was drunk or not, the things that came out of his mouth was something he never, ever expected to hear. It should probably make things better, that Ryan apologized for what he does, that he actually does cares, but in a way, it only makes it worse to Brendon because now he knows that Ryan is aware how much he hurts him, but yet, still continues to do it. And what did he even mean by he cant help it? How can you not help hurting someone? How can you not help saying the things you say? How can you not help shoving someone, grabbing them, hitting them?
Berndon eventually pulls himself from the window, and heads back up the stairs, however, this time when he passes by Haley and Spencer's door, he stops. They're still talking, quiet and murmured, and Brendon leands forward, straining his ears to listen. Brendon isn't usually a snoop like this, not by any means, but he just cant help it. Not with the strange looks Spencer had been giving him all night, and he just wants to know why.
He wasn't even really expecting to hear any answer, or even anything about him for that matter, as he stands there with his ear against the crack in the door, but then he hears it, the faint murmur of his name coming from Haley's mouth. He leans in closer, ears perking.
" - good guy," Spencer says, "but Brendon's just a kid, I doubt he's even eighteen."
Brendon curls his fingers around his glass, and frowns. So that's why Spencer had been staring at him like that all night? Because he's not eighteen?
"I know Ryan means well, but..." Spencer stops, voice trailing, and Brendon shrinks back, holding his breath, scared Spencer noticed he was standing outside of their bedroom, eavesdropping. "Look," he continues, and Brendon breathes out a tiny sigh of relief, "he's my best friend, but... I'm just worried. He went through a lot of shit when he lived with his aunt. His uncle - he abused him." Brendon breathes back in sharp, and it pierces hard at his chest, stinging. "And I mean, I'm not saying Ryan would ever do that, but it's just - he keeps it inside, you know? He keeps it all bottled up, and I'm scared that he might take it out on Brendon, without meaning to. And maybe it's just me trying to find something, but Brendon - he seems a little closed off, you know? Always nervous or something, it seems."
Haley says something, something that Brendon doesn't quite catch, her voice too quiet over the steady pounding in his head.
"I know he's not, but. I just cant help but think that maybe he might do something..." he pauses, sighs and says, sounding almost pained, "many times, the abusees become the abusers. I'm just worried, that's all."
Brendon doesn't stick around to hear what he has to say next, he figures he's heard enough. He practically takes off down he hallway, back towards his and Ryan's bedroom, face hot. He closes the door behind him with a soft snap, and stands there, watching Ryan as he sleeps, soft and peaceful, and clenches his hand tight around his glass of water.
Brendon walks around to his side of the bed, places the cup on the nightstand, and slowly, carefully gets in under the covers beside Ryan. He looks over at him, eyes closed and soft hair wisping over his eyes and flushed cheeks.
It all makes sense now, it does. Ryan's the way he is for a reason, he's just doing what he's always known, what happened to him. It's no excuse for what he does, not really, but Brendon can understand now. It makes sense. Ryan could be a lot worse. He could say a lot worse things, do a lot worse things. Ryan's only physically hurt him a few times, and it was nothing big, not really, just a small slap or two, four. He knows Ryan loves him, he just has a hard way of showing it with his past. He never had a loving family, or at least someone there to, he lived with abuse and poverity.
Brendon knows now, he understands, and he can help him. Ryan just needs someone to love him back, treat him well, to not hurt him, and Brendon can be that person. He can show Ryan that he does matter, that he is a good person, and that Brendon does love him.
He moves down, further into the covers, and presses up against Ryan, close, wrapping an arm around his waist and pressing his nose into the curve of Ryan's neck.
Ryan shifts against him, lets out a small, sleepy noise and curls even further into Brendon.
"I love you," Brendon whispers into his skin, and this time, he really does mean it.
- x -
It's no surprise that when Ryan wakes up in the morning he's cranky and hungover, and shows no sign that he remembers anything from last night. Brendon's not sure if he's thankful for that or not, however, when Ryan's in the shower, Brendon sneaks off downstairs, figuring it'd probably be the best for all of them if he just left him alone until he felt better.
Spencer and Ryan go to town to buy more beer - which Brendon thinks is pretty stupid considerring all the alcohol they already have already - and food, while Haley and him stay back and hang out on the deck, talking. Brendon, not once, mentions anything about overhearing their conversation last night, somehow, he figures, she probably wouldn't appreciate that too much.
She asks questions about him and Ryan, how they met, how long they've been together, if they live together, and Brendon's not sure if she's genuinely interested or if she's trying to find clues if Ryan really does abuse him like Spencer suspects. Either way, Brendon doesn't give her enough information to come to any conclusion.
"Me and Spencer started dating when we were sixteen," she says, with a soft, nostagic smile. "But we knew each other long before that. It was the classic, best-friends-fall-in-love story."
"Do you guys plan on ever getting married?"
She sighs, and Brendon can sense a little bit of sadness to it. "Oh, I dont know," she answers, then shrugs. "I guess maybe one day, if Spencer ever asks me." She lets out an obviously forced laugh, and says, "I mean, it's really no big deal though, we do live together. Plus, I mean," she gives him a little flick of her wrist, "I'm only twenty-one, so, there's lots of time."
Brendon nods. "Yeah..."
"So, are you out of school?" she asks, changing the subject.
Brendon freezes, because he's not quite sure what answer Ryan wanted him to give or not. He was never really quite clear on that part. A moment passes, and Brendon decides on the truth. "Um, no," he says. "This is my last year though."
"Ah," she says, then nods.
Ryan and Spencer come out on the deck, not even five minutes later, a cold beer already in both of their hands, dripping with condensation. Spencer hands one to Haley, who graciously accepts, and Ryan, hands one to Brendon, who makes sure to, very politely, decline.
Ryan's lips twitch together, like he's actually going to get mad at him because he doesn't want to drink at two in the afternoon, but then after a moment, he shrugs and says, "oh well, more for me."
When Brendon looks up, Spencer's eyes are on this time, and this time, he knows.
- x -
Later that night, Brendon's standing out on the deck, by himself, beer in hand, staring down at the ocean below. The rest of them are inside, playing poker on the dining room table because it's too windy outside and was blowing the cards around when they attempted earlier. Brendon's never been a fan of poker.
Five minutes later, Brendon hears the patio door open and close behind him, and he doesn't have to turn around to know it's Ryan.
Ryan wraps his arms around his middle, pulling him close, his chest pressed flush against his back. "I'm really happy you came out here." He nudges his nose behind his ear, pressing into his skin, then kisses his earlobe. "Me too," Brendon replies, and dances his fingers along the wooden railing.
"Spencer and Haley really like you."
"That's good," Brendon says, "I like them too."
Ryan doesn't say anything, he just kisses his hair, back to his ear, his jaw, his neck. He runs his fingers across his belly, and murmurs, "you're perfect, you know that?"
Brendon wants to laugh. "No," he says. "I'm really not." It's sad because Brendon can remember a time when he thought that about himself. Well, maybe not perfect, but something along those lines.
"Yeah," Ryan urges, "you are, Bren."
This time, Brendon lets out a small, airy laugh along with the shake of his head. He doesn't say anything else.
Minutes pass, five, maybe ten, with them standing there, Ryan's arms still wrapped tight around him, not a word spoken.
Brendon takes a deep breath, inhaling the salt in the air that drifts from the ocean below, and god, does Brendon ever love it out here. The mountains, the ocean, trees, grass, sand. He loves how he can sees the stars out here, all of them, shining brightly up in the sky, the ones that get lost in the blinding lights of Vegas. Jon and him used to talk about moving out here sometimes, once they graduated, and it depresses Brendon to a great extent that something he used to be so hopeful for, so excited for, will now, never, ever happen.
Eventually, Ryan tugs at one of the loops on Brendon's pants, snapping him out of his thoughts. "We should probably go back inside," he says.
Brendon nods, and Ryan entangles his arms from his waist. Brendon takes one last look up at the sky, and follows Ryan inside.
- x -
That night, in bed, Ryan curls up next to Brendon, and says, without a blink of an eyelash, "Bren, I want you to move in with me when we get back."
Brendon swallows, long and hard, and stares up at the cieling. Moments pass, Ryan breathing heavily against his ear, before he clears his throat. "I-I don't know, Ryan," he starts with a bit of a nervous stutter. "We've only been together for a couple months, and I'm still in school and..." It's one thing for Brendon to handle Ryan now, his insults and jabs, because he knows he always has a place to escape to, his home, but it's another thing for Brendon to live with him, have that be his home and have nowhere else to go to. Brendon loves him, and he's not going to leave him anytime soon, but he also, really, really doesn't want to live with him. Not yet, anyway.
"Come on, Bren," he presses. "You practically already live me, you're over so much. Plus, it's not like you cant go to school just because you're living with me. We love each other, right? That's all that should matter."
"I - " he starts, then stops.
Ryan looks up at him, pleading, with round, dark eyes.
In the end, Brendon agrees.
A/N: sorry guys, its shorter than most, but i hope you liked it anyway <3