Title: Love Is Spelt Like Your Fist
Author:
repulsive_xRating: 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_loverAuthor'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 ` T W E N T Y - T W O
A week later, Brendon agrees to go on a weekend trip to New York with Ryan.
The scrapbook incident was never brought up, not once, and Ryan never apologized, even though the bruises and cuts are just beginning to fade away now. Goes without saying, Brendon didn’t bother going to school for the entire week, he really didn’t need to deal with the questions. Brendon hasn’t seen the scrapbook since either, and he doesn’t expect that he ever will again.
Every single day after the incident, Ryan had come home at a reasonable time, five o’clock, and brought him home a gift on top of it. A scarf, a shirt, shoes, chocolates, flowers. He didn’t even have to make dinner once. So, in a way, Brendon figures that was Ryan’s way of silently apologizing, and then, of course, was the trip to New York.
Yeah, Brendon gets it. He gets that he’s stupid, that why hasn’t he ran away already? Moved back home? And the thing is, he doesn’t know. He really doesn’t. Besides, what is there to go home to? His parents that he hasn’t heard from since he moved out? His non-existent friends? Brendon has absolutely nothing now, so what’s the point?
He might as well stay here with the one person who actually cares about him, spoils him and all he has to do is suffer through the occasional punch, or smack or insult that he’ll get after doing something stupid. Plus, Brendon’s been through a lot worse, hasn’t he?
Sure. Yeah.
- x -
Brendon wakes up Friday morning, the day him and Ryan are scheduled to fly out to New York, to find a skinny, blonde girl sitting at their kitchen counter, alone, surrounded by papers and furiously typing something on a blackberry.
“Um,” Brendon says, frozen at the doorway.
The girl looks up, drops the phone and stares at him with wide, brown eyes before jumping out of her chair and running over to him. “You must be Brendon!” she squeals, sticking out a slender hand. “I’m Jac, Ryan’s previous secretary, newly promoted assistant! Ryan’s just in the shower right now, and I just came over to write down a few things he needs to get done in New York!” She stops, and takes a miniscule breath of air before continuing, “Oh my god, it is just so nice to finally meet you! I mean, I think I have before, one time when I was still a secretary but that hardly counts! That was before I knew who you actually were! Oh my, Ryan just talks so much about you, it’s like I’m meeting a celebrity!”
“Um.” Brendon blinks, still half-asleep; he thinks he caught only about half of that. “Hi? Nice to meet you too.”
She grins, tilts her head to the side, and says, “I guess we’ll be seeing a lot more of each other now that I’m Ryan’s assistant.” She sighs, lets out a small girlish giggle. “God, I am so sorry. You have to excuse me, but I’m just so excited! I’ve never been someone’s assistant before.”
Brendon laughs, genuinely, and his still healing ribs hurt, a little, so he has to stop. He hasn’t put on any makeup yet, let alone looked in a mirror, and he hopes he doesn’t still have any noticeable bruises or cuts on his face. “No, that’s fine. I understand.”
“Good.” She smiles. “Oh, Brendon, I think I love you already!” She lowers her voice, leans in closer as if telling a secret, and says, “to be honest, I was scared you were going to be some stuck-up, little high school kid, and I’d be forced to keep my mouth shut because, um, hi, I work for your boyfriend.” Her eyes widen and she quickly presses a hand over her mouth. “I don’t know if I was supposed to say that. Was that okay?”
Brendon laughs again, a little more than before, and his ribs ache even more. “No,” he replies. “I think that’s fine.” He leans forward, winks and says, “I won’t tell, Ryan.” For a moment there, Brendon gets a little taken back, shocked over what just came out of his mouth. He can’t remember the last time he joked around, let alone laughed.
“Won’t tell me what?” Ryan’s voice asks, coming up from behind them.
Brendon spins around, heart pounding and face heating. “Uh - ”
Jac grins, grabs onto Brendon’s arm, and says, “It’s a secret.”
Ryan frowns, opens the refrigerator door and pulls out a bottle of water. “Oh yeah?”
“Yeah,” Jac replies. “You know, Ryan, I like him,” she says, tugging on Brendon’s arm. “He’s a keeper.”
Ryan laughs, and takes a long swig of water before replying with, “Yeah, so I’ve heard.”
Brendon forces a small smile, and looks down at the kitchen floor, avoiding Ryan’s gaze.
Jac lets go of his arm and heads over to the kitchen counter where she grabs onto the blackberry and hands it to Ryan. “I planned in what you needed to do while in New York, and there’s timers set for an hour before all your meetings.”
Ryan nods, and pockets his phone. “Thanks, Jac.”
“No problem.” She grabs onto her purse, and slides it over her shoulder. “Well, I guess my work is done here.” She passes by Ryan, out into the hallway and calls, “you guys have fun. Which, of course, I’m sure you will. But try not to have too much fun, Ryan. Remember, you are there for business.” She smiles once she reaches the elevator, Ryan and Brendon trailing behind her, and tosses some silky blonde hair behind her shoulder.
Brendon wants to hug her, hard.
“Thanks, Jac,” Ryan repeats with a crooked smile.
She smiles, and says, “You’re welcome, Ryan.” She slips on her heels, and says, “Anyways, expect a call from me at least fifty times this weekend.”
“Yeah, yeah.” Ryan nods.
She presses the button for the elevator, and gives Ryan a nice pat on the shoulder. “Okay.” She turns to Brendon, grins, and squeezes his elbow. “Bye, you guys. Have fun. I’ll see you later. Nice to meet you Brendon,” she heads into the elevator, and gives one quick wave before she disappears behind the doors.
Brendon expects Ryan to get mad at him for ‘keeping something from him’ but instead of yelling at him, he turns and goes, “so, you’re all packed right?”
“Yeah.”
“Okay, well I was thinking we leave in an hour and go to breakfast before?” he suggests. “How does that sound?”
“Sure. Yeah. Sounds, um, good.”
Ryan nods, then smiles. “Okay, well, I have to get some stuff done in the office before, so how about you go and get ready, and we’ll leave at - ” he looks down at his Rolex, and says, “eleven?”
“Um, yeah, sure. Sounds good.”
Ryan smiles again, softly, and leans forward, giving him a comforting squeeze on his arm just like Jac did, and presses a quick kiss to his lips. “Okay.”
Brendon stares after him, confused, as Ryan heads to his office, and wishes he could understand what the fuck goes through Ryan’s head.
- x -
By Saturday night, Ryan’s been so busy running around from business partner, to investors, to clients, to god knows who else, that Brendon hardly gets the time to see him, besides the dinner he attended with Ryan and some old, stuffy man and his wife the evening before.
Brendon’s not too upset because he knew it was going to be like this, but he’d like to spend at least a little time with his boyfriend instead of sitting around in the hotel room by himself - especially since said boyfriend has been in a particularly good mood lately, and Brendon doesn’t like those to go to waste. So, Brendon’s about to pop in a movie, ready to spend another night alone when Ryan comes in through the door, calling, “get ready! We’re going out!”
“Huh?” Brendon asks, surprised. “Don’t you have to… do work things?”
“Nope,” he replies. “Not tonight. Now get ready.”
“B-But,” Brendon starts, getting up from the couch and heading over to Ryan, “where are we going?”
“I can’t tell you that.” Ryan smirks. “It’s a secret.”
“Well, what do I wear?”
“Um,” Ryan starts, thinking this over, “something nice but casual. Now go!” He laughs, playing giving Brendon a small shove towards the bedroom. “You have fifteen minutes!” he calls after him.
Brendon stumbles into the bedroom, opens up his suitcase and tries not to over think what the fuck’s happening to the point where his head hurts. He can hear Ryan whistling from the other room while he pulls on a Marc Jacobs polo-shirt and black jeans. Brendon hates when Ryan brings him places without telling him where, has ever since that time he brought him to that fancy restaurant back in Vegas and Brendon made a fool of himself because he was a little too underdressed.
Fifteen minutes later, to the dot, Ryan’s ushering him out of the hotel suite and outside where a driver in a black Jaguar waits for them. Once there seated and taking off down the busy New York street, Brendon tries again this time with a bit of a whine and a lip pout, “Ryan, where are we going?”
He laughs, shakes his head, and says, “Not telling.”
Five minutes pass, maybe ten, until the driver pulls onto Broadway, right near Times Square, and they’re instantly surrounded by flashing lights, large billboards, and lots and lots of people. Brendon turns to Ryan with eyebrows raised, but Ryan doesn’t meet his gaze, he just stares out the window, a small smirk on his lips. Brendon doesn’t trust him.
The car comes to a stop beside one of the many buildings, and Brendon takes a few seconds to read over the signs and posters, letting it all sink in before he’s exclaiming in disbelief, “Billy Elliot? You’re seriously taking me to a Broadway show? You’re kidding me!”
Ryan shrugs, a smirk still twisted on his thin lips. “You said you’ve always wanted to go. Plus, I know how much of a sucker you are for Elton John. I’ve seen your iPod.” He laughs, and reaches into his pocket for his wallet.
Brendon turns to Ryan, doesn’t even bother trying to deny the slight Elton John obsession, and blinks. “I also know how much you hate musicals.”
Ryan pulls a twenty from his wallet, and hands it over to the driver who graciously accepts. Ryan’s always been a little over the board when it comes to tipping.
Of course, Ryan went all out with the seats. Brendon’s not stupid, he knows how much Premium tickets are at Broadway shows, then again, it’s not like Ryan doesn’t have the money to spare. But four hundred dollars on a ticket to Billy Elliot? That is so not something he was expecting from Ryan of all people.
Brendon’s sure that halfway through the show, Ryan’s going to get up, saying something along the lines of, ‘sorry, I cant do this,’ then escort them out of the building, but three quarters of the thing pass and he does no such thing, he doesn’t even flinch. No, instead he spends the entire time rubbing circles into the knuckle of Brendon’s thumb, staring ahead at the stage with a straight face. Brendon, on the other hand, has a lot more trouble concentrating because he’s a little too busy wondering if Ryan will ever stop being so goddamn moody and confusing.
He doubts it.
- x -
Later that night, Brendon and Ryan are laying there, all sweaty and sticky and post-sex, after round number two, with Ryan running his fingers through Brendon’s matted hair, and all Brendon can think is, why cant it be like this all of the time?
“You know, B,” Ryan starts after a few moments of content silence, “you’re lucky to have me.”
Brendon tries not to snort out loud, and forces back the sarcastic, oh, and how’s that? clawing at his lips.
“I’m the only one who wants you,” he says, then pauses for a moment, and Brendon takes back everything he just said about wanting things to always be like this. Of course Ryan had to go and ruin it. Of course. “I mean, even your precious little Jon who promised to be with you forever wants nothing to do with you.”
Brendon swallows, tries to ignore the pang in his chest, the one that comes every single freaking time Ryan finds the need to mention him - which, of course, happens to be a lot, even if it’s just in passing. Ryan loves shoving it in Brendon’s face that Jon’s gone, that he doesn’t love him anymore, its Ryan’s way of subtly making him suffer.
Ryan lets out a laugh, its loud and bitter, as he continues to run his fingers lovingly through his hair, and Brendon can’t help but flinch, his cheeks hot. “You’re family doesn’t even want anything to do with you,” he says. “You’re failing all your classes… lost all your friends…” Ryan tilts his head to the side, gives Brendon a once-over and says, “and you’re not even that pretty anymore. You’ve gained some weight, you know.”
Brendon stares down at his lap, chokes down the tears and doesn’t make a sound. He figures that Ryan will stop a lot sooner if he doesn’t say anything back. Ryan’s like a twelve year-old bully, if he ignores him, doesn’t let him know that he’s hurt, he’ll stop… most of the time anyway.
“I’m the only one who still loves you, Bren. Even after all the shit you put me through,” Ryan continues, voice softening. He slips an arm around his waist, pulls him close, and says, “I’ll always be here. You’re just lucky I don’t care about looks.”
Brendon continues to stare down at his lap, cheeks burning as a lump the size of a fucking baseball forms in his throat. He wonders if that’s supposed to make him feel good because it certainly doesn’t. Not even a little. If anything it makes him want to puke all over the silk sheets and Ryan.
Ryan cups Brendon’s chin, and tilts his face up to meet his before leaning down to press a soft kiss to Brendon’s mouth. “I love you,” he murmurs.
Brendon’s heart twists and drops, all the way to his butt, as he says, voice cracking, “you too.”
A/N: so i just wanted to say thanks for all the comments last chapter, and sorry for not replying. i got lazy :( sorry. i love you alll.