Easy To Love [ryan/brendon][s/a]
Title: Easy To Love
Pairing/Character(s): Ryan Ross/Brendon Urie
Rating: PG-13
Summary: Brendon sighs in Ryan’s ear and kisses his cheek. “Remember that? I used to always kiss your cheek and sometimes you even kissed mine. Yeah. Maybe someday. And maybe someday we’ll forget.”
Warning: Post-split, angst.
Beta: camatie
Word Count: 2,095
A/N: Oh look, here I am, ruining everyone's moods.
Even though the show is canceled due to an issue with Foxy Shazam, it doesn’t stop Jon from knowing Ryan’s taking advantage of it. That he planned to take advantage of it.
Jon sends him a sideways glance. “Don’t make us do this. It’s not worth it,” he tells Ryan, in that same voice that always says that he thinks harder. Ryan bites down hard on his lip and shakes his head. “What, you’re just gonna get your heart broken. Again. How many times can you manage it?”
Ryan hesitates. “I dunno,” he finally says, turning away from Jon. “We’ll find out eventually, right?”
Jon sighs, obviously frustrated. “You can’t keep doing this to yourself. To us. To the fans who still give a shit about us. You’ve seen them, they exist. Getting along with Brendon…” Jon trails off, saying the name sharply, “isn’t going to give you Panic back, or what you thought was all yours. It’s theirs now. We gave it up because we couldn’t deal with him anymore. I know that sounds selfish, even knowing that it’s the truth, but…it’s the truth. And you’re not going to be able to compromise with them, not anymore.”
Ryan takes a sharp intake of breath. “Maybe you’re right,” he whispers, but Jon can still hear how his voice quivers. “But I’ll never know until I try…right?”
--
Ryan has no idea what the fuck he’s doing. He really, honest to god, doesn’t know what he expects. Does he think Brendon will greet him with a smile like nothing is wrong? Does he think Jon’s going to call him and convince him to come back home?
He knows that Jon is bitter - Jon is more bitter about the split than Ryan has been about almost anything and it’s kind of scary. Jon is bitter and mean sometimes, and yet sometimes he’s the nicest, sweetest person. Sometimes he wraps an arm around Ryan’s shoulder and sings him Hey Jude in a low voice as if Ryan’s not heard it a thousand times. And sometimes he goes too far.
Ryan’s not bitter, not anymore. Just sad. He misses how he used to be with Panic. He wishes he hadn’t changed, sometimes. Sometimes he wishes they had never written Pretty. Odd. because it was when it had all begun. It was Brendon trying to write what he wanted and Spencer not liking playing the tambourine and Ryan not even really liking the instrumental-ness of it all. He can remember in 2007 when they thought everything was going to be okay, when they wrote Nearly Witches and then tossed it along with the remnants of what Defiance was made out of (Brendon had said something with an arched eyebrow that Ryan vaguely remember maybe being, What is this shit? and Ryan remembers chuckling like what he said was funny). He can remember how Brendon screamed at him once, like it was a life or death situation, before beginning to shake.
He remembers the way Brendon’s entire body looked like it was going to break as his eyes widened and the tears fell and Ryan had just sat there, his lips pursed tight. He remembers Spencer opening the door and he remembers seeing Brendon fall to his knees and start crying, wailing apologies. He remembers the way Jon had grabbed Spencer’s arm and dragged him away and Ryan had lay back against the bed and waited for Brendon’s sobs to calm down. They had, eventually, and Brendon had crawled next to him and wrapped his arms around Ryan’s skinny waist and mumbled apologies into his throat.
Keltie once told Ryan, in her soft, sad, broken voice, Apologies only matter if you believe them.
Ryan doesn’t remember. Maybe it was after he had done something wrong and had muttered a sorry to her that didn’t really seem right. But when she had said that, all he could think of was Brendon next to him, his ‘heartfelt’ apologies and whether or not they were real or just what came after his breakdown, if you could even call it that.
Ryan lies back down on the bed, the hotel bed that smells like barely clean linen and used pillows. Ryan stretches across the sheets, kicking his shoes off.
The door creeks open and someone walks inside. Ryan waits, his breathing coming slow and simple. He doesn’t close his eyes, but he doesn’t look up.
“You dead yet?”
Ryan smiles but doesn’t laugh. “No,” he whispers, “not yet.”
“Oh. That’s what I expected.”
Ryan recognizes the way Brendon’s voice seems to fold. The same way when he freaks out, when things go wrong. Shaking.
“I’ll always love you.” He doesn’t know why he says it, except that it’s true.
“Should I believe you?” Brendon asks softly, still not moving from where he’s hovering in the doorway.
“You don’t have to. That’s not the point,” Ryan says, still smiling. “But I know it’s true.”
Brendon takes another step into the room, sitting on the edge of the bed. Ryan still doesn’t look up.
“What if I don’t feel the same?” Brendon whispers.
“Then you don’t feel the same,” Ryan says, shrugging. “It can’t be helped.”
“Are you sad your show is canceled?” Brendon asks, his voice still hushed.
“Yes. Because there are people there…who wanted to be there.”
“I was gonna see you guys.”
Ryan chuckles this time. “Do I believe you? Now that’s the question.”
“I really was. That’s why I’m here, isn’t it?”
“Would you have stuck around?” Ryan sing-songs. “Would you have stayed?”
“Stop.”
Ryan finally sits up, sitting cross legged. Brendon’s swinging his legs slowly over the bed, hands fisted in the blanket covering the hotel bed. “Why should I stop? You never did,” Ryan whispers, letting the venom that he’s been hiding seep into his voice. Brendon flinches and Ryan feels sickeningly pleased.
Brendon turns just slightly, looking up at Ryan. “I always get what I want, don’t you know?” he murmurs, half-smiling.
Ryan doesn’t smile back. “Don’t you think it’s worth breaking my heart?” he asks, again singing softly. “Don’t you think you have better things to do than to sneak behind my back?”
Brendon turns his eyes back down to his lap. “We had to.”
Ryan laughs, sharp and angry. “Yes, you couldn’t have come to us and said ‘I’m sorry Ryan and Jon, but we’re just not going in the same direction musically.’”
“…We did, though…”
“No,” Ryan says, again with an un-amused laugh. “Spencer, my best friend, God, the guy who used to be my best friend, he had to take me to lunch and tell me that we couldn’t do this anymore, that Brendon was nagging his fucking ear off to talk to me, to tell me how wrong I was.”
Brendon’s face turns scarlet and he bites his lip. “Yeah, he tattled on you, Brendon. He told me about how you were so scared of what I would say. You? Scared of me? Fucking hell, Brendon. Fuck…”
“I can’t help it,” Brendon defends feebly. “It’s just the way I am.”
“Yeah, well, there are a lot of ways that I am, too, and unfortunately for you, it’s not the same person I was four years ago. Even two years ago. Fuck, Brendon, fuck, I can’t…”
Brendon looks up again. “I don’t…What happened?”
Ryan sighs. “You know what happened. We just went over this.”
“I’m sorry,” Brendon whispers. “Really. I know you don’t believe me…honestly, I don’t think you should believe me, except that it’s true.” Now he’s echoing Ryan and he laughs hollowly. “I know I’m pretty messed up, Ryan. I know that you’ve changed. I know you’re a totally different person now. I guess I kind of wanted to make you into me…I don’t know. I wanted us to always be on the same level, so when we weren’t…it really hurt. I’m not good at handling this kind of stuff, you know? I’m fucked like that, I guess.”
“About now I’d be singing Defiance. It was hard to finish that song because of you.”
Brendon frowns. “What?”
“I kind of wrote some of it in 2007. Remember?”
“Oh.”
“You do.”
“I do.”
“It’s okay, though. I finished it and I made it better. You know, Jon and I are doing well.”
Brendon nods. “I’ve noticed.”
“You and Spencer keep on trying to make things seem like they’re going to be okay. Like they are okay. Well, mostly you.”
“When was the last time you talked to Spencer?”
“January? Maybe February. It’s been a while.”
“Isn’t it sad?” Brendon says with a tiny smile. “That you haven’t talked to someone who you’ve known since you were six in three months, maybe two.”
“I’m in the way,” Ryan says, shrugging. “I’m surprised you’re here, because, well, you guys were so busy. I don’t know. Thought you guys were making the perfect album. Jon and I, we’re just writing the music we love.”
Brendon sighs. “You know, I’m just…surprised that we could compromise even at one point.” Again, changing the subject.
“We made it for that many years. I guess that’s enough for now.”
Brendon closes his eyes. “Will we just see what happens next?” he asks softly, softer than usual.
“Yeah, I suppose you could say that. You can keep what you have, and we’ll keep starting anew. We’re already working on a second record, can you…can you believe that? I didn’t know that it could be easier. I thought it always had to be so hard. That you couldn’t really be happy making music that was…the best. But now, Brendon…I’m making music that I love, and Jon loves it, and…and Alex loves it. And Z loves it. We all love it so fucking much, and I…And I…” Ryan pauses, swallowing. He can feel the tears stinging his eyes but he refuses to make it obvious if it’s not already. “I hope you’ll buy it. Even if you don’t listen to it, I hope you buy it and set it aside, and maybe…maybe when you’re older, when we’re older…it’ll make sense. M-maybe it’ll click and maybe you’ll regret it and maybe so will I. Because I…I know I’ll buy Panic’s new record, and I know I’ll listen to it and not hear myself and I’ll…I’ll probably cry because it’ll sound weird. But…it’s gonna be shiny and perfect, isn’t it? It’s going to be the perfect record, and that’s why it’s taking you so long, isn’t it? Do you and Spencer get along? Is it perfect? How’s Sarah…?”
They sit there, both breathing - Brendon quietly, Ryan heaving and choking on his tears as he sobs for the first time in a couple of months. “I never meant for this to happen,” he sobs, staring at his hands. He refuses to look at Brendon. “I never wanted you go to go away. Soon, you’ll have taken my place…you won’t need me and I won’t need you.”
Brendon scoots a little closer to Ryan, hesitating as he wraps an arm around his waist and rests his head on his shoulder. “That’s not true,” he whispers. “I know it seems selfish…that we’re keeping Panic for ourselves…but…I just don’t want to watch you disappear.”
Ryan takes a couple of deep breaths, composing himself. “What d’you mean…?” he mumbles.
“I mean…” Brendon whispers, tangling his fingers into Ryan’s hair and sitting up so his lips are at his ear, “that if we gave up on Panic, so would everyone else…and no one would get to hear your words sung ever again.”
“Do you love my words?” Ryan asks, not really meaning to say it as his body begins to shake. He feels like Brendon, like the one who’s messing up.
“’Course I do, Ry. ’Course I do. Don’t you know? It’s because I love you.”
Ryan leans back against Brendon and listens to his breathing. “You should go home,” he says softly. The entire evening has been quiet. “Jon and I are going to continue going where we go, and though there’s always a ‘maybe someday’…it can’t be helped if I don’t ever see you again.”
Brendon sighs in Ryan’s ear and kisses his cheek. “Remember that? I used to always kiss your cheek and sometimes you even kissed mine. Yeah. Maybe someday. And maybe someday we’ll forget.”
“You could be an amazing writer, Brendon. I’m sure you will be.”
Brendon smiles against Ryan’s skin. “I know. I am.”
Ryan slowly takes Brendon’s arm and slips it from around his waist, setting it on Brendon’s lap. “It’s okay,” he whispers. “It’s okay.”
Pairing/Character(s): Ryan Ross/Brendon Urie
Rating: PG-13
Summary: Brendon sighs in Ryan’s ear and kisses his cheek. “Remember that? I used to always kiss your cheek and sometimes you even kissed mine. Yeah. Maybe someday. And maybe someday we’ll forget.”
Warning: Post-split, angst.
Beta: camatie
Word Count: 2,095
A/N: Oh look, here I am, ruining everyone's moods.
Even though the show is canceled due to an issue with Foxy Shazam, it doesn’t stop Jon from knowing Ryan’s taking advantage of it. That he planned to take advantage of it.
Jon sends him a sideways glance. “Don’t make us do this. It’s not worth it,” he tells Ryan, in that same voice that always says that he thinks harder. Ryan bites down hard on his lip and shakes his head. “What, you’re just gonna get your heart broken. Again. How many times can you manage it?”
Ryan hesitates. “I dunno,” he finally says, turning away from Jon. “We’ll find out eventually, right?”
Jon sighs, obviously frustrated. “You can’t keep doing this to yourself. To us. To the fans who still give a shit about us. You’ve seen them, they exist. Getting along with Brendon…” Jon trails off, saying the name sharply, “isn’t going to give you Panic back, or what you thought was all yours. It’s theirs now. We gave it up because we couldn’t deal with him anymore. I know that sounds selfish, even knowing that it’s the truth, but…it’s the truth. And you’re not going to be able to compromise with them, not anymore.”
Ryan takes a sharp intake of breath. “Maybe you’re right,” he whispers, but Jon can still hear how his voice quivers. “But I’ll never know until I try…right?”
--
Ryan has no idea what the fuck he’s doing. He really, honest to god, doesn’t know what he expects. Does he think Brendon will greet him with a smile like nothing is wrong? Does he think Jon’s going to call him and convince him to come back home?
He knows that Jon is bitter - Jon is more bitter about the split than Ryan has been about almost anything and it’s kind of scary. Jon is bitter and mean sometimes, and yet sometimes he’s the nicest, sweetest person. Sometimes he wraps an arm around Ryan’s shoulder and sings him Hey Jude in a low voice as if Ryan’s not heard it a thousand times. And sometimes he goes too far.
Ryan’s not bitter, not anymore. Just sad. He misses how he used to be with Panic. He wishes he hadn’t changed, sometimes. Sometimes he wishes they had never written Pretty. Odd. because it was when it had all begun. It was Brendon trying to write what he wanted and Spencer not liking playing the tambourine and Ryan not even really liking the instrumental-ness of it all. He can remember in 2007 when they thought everything was going to be okay, when they wrote Nearly Witches and then tossed it along with the remnants of what Defiance was made out of (Brendon had said something with an arched eyebrow that Ryan vaguely remember maybe being, What is this shit? and Ryan remembers chuckling like what he said was funny). He can remember how Brendon screamed at him once, like it was a life or death situation, before beginning to shake.
He remembers the way Brendon’s entire body looked like it was going to break as his eyes widened and the tears fell and Ryan had just sat there, his lips pursed tight. He remembers Spencer opening the door and he remembers seeing Brendon fall to his knees and start crying, wailing apologies. He remembers the way Jon had grabbed Spencer’s arm and dragged him away and Ryan had lay back against the bed and waited for Brendon’s sobs to calm down. They had, eventually, and Brendon had crawled next to him and wrapped his arms around Ryan’s skinny waist and mumbled apologies into his throat.
Keltie once told Ryan, in her soft, sad, broken voice, Apologies only matter if you believe them.
Ryan doesn’t remember. Maybe it was after he had done something wrong and had muttered a sorry to her that didn’t really seem right. But when she had said that, all he could think of was Brendon next to him, his ‘heartfelt’ apologies and whether or not they were real or just what came after his breakdown, if you could even call it that.
Ryan lies back down on the bed, the hotel bed that smells like barely clean linen and used pillows. Ryan stretches across the sheets, kicking his shoes off.
The door creeks open and someone walks inside. Ryan waits, his breathing coming slow and simple. He doesn’t close his eyes, but he doesn’t look up.
“You dead yet?”
Ryan smiles but doesn’t laugh. “No,” he whispers, “not yet.”
“Oh. That’s what I expected.”
Ryan recognizes the way Brendon’s voice seems to fold. The same way when he freaks out, when things go wrong. Shaking.
“I’ll always love you.” He doesn’t know why he says it, except that it’s true.
“Should I believe you?” Brendon asks softly, still not moving from where he’s hovering in the doorway.
“You don’t have to. That’s not the point,” Ryan says, still smiling. “But I know it’s true.”
Brendon takes another step into the room, sitting on the edge of the bed. Ryan still doesn’t look up.
“What if I don’t feel the same?” Brendon whispers.
“Then you don’t feel the same,” Ryan says, shrugging. “It can’t be helped.”
“Are you sad your show is canceled?” Brendon asks, his voice still hushed.
“Yes. Because there are people there…who wanted to be there.”
“I was gonna see you guys.”
Ryan chuckles this time. “Do I believe you? Now that’s the question.”
“I really was. That’s why I’m here, isn’t it?”
“Would you have stuck around?” Ryan sing-songs. “Would you have stayed?”
“Stop.”
Ryan finally sits up, sitting cross legged. Brendon’s swinging his legs slowly over the bed, hands fisted in the blanket covering the hotel bed. “Why should I stop? You never did,” Ryan whispers, letting the venom that he’s been hiding seep into his voice. Brendon flinches and Ryan feels sickeningly pleased.
Brendon turns just slightly, looking up at Ryan. “I always get what I want, don’t you know?” he murmurs, half-smiling.
Ryan doesn’t smile back. “Don’t you think it’s worth breaking my heart?” he asks, again singing softly. “Don’t you think you have better things to do than to sneak behind my back?”
Brendon turns his eyes back down to his lap. “We had to.”
Ryan laughs, sharp and angry. “Yes, you couldn’t have come to us and said ‘I’m sorry Ryan and Jon, but we’re just not going in the same direction musically.’”
“…We did, though…”
“No,” Ryan says, again with an un-amused laugh. “Spencer, my best friend, God, the guy who used to be my best friend, he had to take me to lunch and tell me that we couldn’t do this anymore, that Brendon was nagging his fucking ear off to talk to me, to tell me how wrong I was.”
Brendon’s face turns scarlet and he bites his lip. “Yeah, he tattled on you, Brendon. He told me about how you were so scared of what I would say. You? Scared of me? Fucking hell, Brendon. Fuck…”
“I can’t help it,” Brendon defends feebly. “It’s just the way I am.”
“Yeah, well, there are a lot of ways that I am, too, and unfortunately for you, it’s not the same person I was four years ago. Even two years ago. Fuck, Brendon, fuck, I can’t…”
Brendon looks up again. “I don’t…What happened?”
Ryan sighs. “You know what happened. We just went over this.”
“I’m sorry,” Brendon whispers. “Really. I know you don’t believe me…honestly, I don’t think you should believe me, except that it’s true.” Now he’s echoing Ryan and he laughs hollowly. “I know I’m pretty messed up, Ryan. I know that you’ve changed. I know you’re a totally different person now. I guess I kind of wanted to make you into me…I don’t know. I wanted us to always be on the same level, so when we weren’t…it really hurt. I’m not good at handling this kind of stuff, you know? I’m fucked like that, I guess.”
“About now I’d be singing Defiance. It was hard to finish that song because of you.”
Brendon frowns. “What?”
“I kind of wrote some of it in 2007. Remember?”
“Oh.”
“You do.”
“I do.”
“It’s okay, though. I finished it and I made it better. You know, Jon and I are doing well.”
Brendon nods. “I’ve noticed.”
“You and Spencer keep on trying to make things seem like they’re going to be okay. Like they are okay. Well, mostly you.”
“When was the last time you talked to Spencer?”
“January? Maybe February. It’s been a while.”
“Isn’t it sad?” Brendon says with a tiny smile. “That you haven’t talked to someone who you’ve known since you were six in three months, maybe two.”
“I’m in the way,” Ryan says, shrugging. “I’m surprised you’re here, because, well, you guys were so busy. I don’t know. Thought you guys were making the perfect album. Jon and I, we’re just writing the music we love.”
Brendon sighs. “You know, I’m just…surprised that we could compromise even at one point.” Again, changing the subject.
“We made it for that many years. I guess that’s enough for now.”
Brendon closes his eyes. “Will we just see what happens next?” he asks softly, softer than usual.
“Yeah, I suppose you could say that. You can keep what you have, and we’ll keep starting anew. We’re already working on a second record, can you…can you believe that? I didn’t know that it could be easier. I thought it always had to be so hard. That you couldn’t really be happy making music that was…the best. But now, Brendon…I’m making music that I love, and Jon loves it, and…and Alex loves it. And Z loves it. We all love it so fucking much, and I…And I…” Ryan pauses, swallowing. He can feel the tears stinging his eyes but he refuses to make it obvious if it’s not already. “I hope you’ll buy it. Even if you don’t listen to it, I hope you buy it and set it aside, and maybe…maybe when you’re older, when we’re older…it’ll make sense. M-maybe it’ll click and maybe you’ll regret it and maybe so will I. Because I…I know I’ll buy Panic’s new record, and I know I’ll listen to it and not hear myself and I’ll…I’ll probably cry because it’ll sound weird. But…it’s gonna be shiny and perfect, isn’t it? It’s going to be the perfect record, and that’s why it’s taking you so long, isn’t it? Do you and Spencer get along? Is it perfect? How’s Sarah…?”
They sit there, both breathing - Brendon quietly, Ryan heaving and choking on his tears as he sobs for the first time in a couple of months. “I never meant for this to happen,” he sobs, staring at his hands. He refuses to look at Brendon. “I never wanted you go to go away. Soon, you’ll have taken my place…you won’t need me and I won’t need you.”
Brendon scoots a little closer to Ryan, hesitating as he wraps an arm around his waist and rests his head on his shoulder. “That’s not true,” he whispers. “I know it seems selfish…that we’re keeping Panic for ourselves…but…I just don’t want to watch you disappear.”
Ryan takes a couple of deep breaths, composing himself. “What d’you mean…?” he mumbles.
“I mean…” Brendon whispers, tangling his fingers into Ryan’s hair and sitting up so his lips are at his ear, “that if we gave up on Panic, so would everyone else…and no one would get to hear your words sung ever again.”
“Do you love my words?” Ryan asks, not really meaning to say it as his body begins to shake. He feels like Brendon, like the one who’s messing up.
“’Course I do, Ry. ’Course I do. Don’t you know? It’s because I love you.”
Ryan leans back against Brendon and listens to his breathing. “You should go home,” he says softly. The entire evening has been quiet. “Jon and I are going to continue going where we go, and though there’s always a ‘maybe someday’…it can’t be helped if I don’t ever see you again.”
Brendon sighs in Ryan’s ear and kisses his cheek. “Remember that? I used to always kiss your cheek and sometimes you even kissed mine. Yeah. Maybe someday. And maybe someday we’ll forget.”
“You could be an amazing writer, Brendon. I’m sure you will be.”
Brendon smiles against Ryan’s skin. “I know. I am.”
Ryan slowly takes Brendon’s arm and slips it from around his waist, setting it on Brendon’s lap. “It’s okay,” he whispers. “It’s okay.”