Freaks [14/20]
Title: Freaks [14/20]
Author: spazzyskittles/Tiffany
Rating: PG-13
Pairing: Ryan/Brendon, Jon/Spencer
POV: 1st (Ryan's)
Summary: An accident lands Ryan in the hospital, and he meets Jon, who tells him of a mysterious patient on their floor. There's something not quite right about him, but then again, there's something not quite right about Ryan as well.
Disclaimer: I don’t own Panic at the Disco. This is all just a by-product of an overactive imagination.
Author Notes: This is a completed story and will be updated every other day. Thanks to my beta pinkkchocolate, I couldn't have done it without you.
1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13
Chapter 14
“Hey, jackass. Thanks for not calling me.” Spencer’s voice is a lot more light-hearted than his words would imply.
“Sorry,” I mumble as I shift in the chair I’ve been sitting in. He takes the other seat and plops a paper bag down in front of me. “Thanks, Spence.”
“I got you a cookie,” he says. I can feel his eyes on me, analyzing me, as I take a sandwich out and unwrap it. “It’s a Kareem Abdul Jabeef.”
“You know, you can just say ‘roast beef sandwich’,” I tell him with a straight face.
Spencer scoffs. “What’s the fun in that? Plus, that’s what it’s called.”
I roll my eyes and take a bite. It’s quiet as I eat. That is, until Spencer says, “So really, Ryan. Why didn’t you call me when you found out you’d be leaving?”
I shrug, using a full mouth as an excuse not to answer. “You’re weird, man,” he tells me. “A week ago, you were dying to leave.”
I sigh and give Spencer a pleading look, a look that he knows that I really, really don't want to talk about it. He looks almost startled because, like I said, he knows that look, and he probably can't imagine a reason for it. I turn back to my sandwich and continue eating.
"Is it because," he asks, cutting through the silence between us, "you're more comfortable here?"
I frown, not really understanding. "What do you mean?"
He shrugs. "I don't know. I guess it seems like you're a lot more yourself here. I just thought it was because, I don't know, people here care less about... what you look like. And maybe, maybe you don't want to go back."
It's true. I've always been more comfortable around hospitals. People here, the nurses, the doctors, most of the patients, don't treat me any differently. They don't stare rudely or ignore me. I'm just like any other patient. It's almost like a level playing field here. But when I leave, it'll be back to normal. No one but Spencer is going to give a damn about me. Pretty soon, I'll be back at work, stocking books in the back to avoid people. I'll rush through campus with my head ducked down and sit in the back and never, ever draw attention to myself. I'm not really looking forward to it. I like not having to hide all the time.
Even though that's not really the reason, he's given me a perfectly plausible one for the way I'm acting, and I can't help clinging onto it. "You're right, Spence." I look down to the empty sandwich wrapper in front of me. "I don't want to go back."
At that, Spencer leans forward, and his arms are around me. I can't stop myself from leaning into the hug because I really fucking need it.
--------------
When Spencer leaves, I pick up the phone on my bedside table and dial Jon's room number. It rings twice, and then Jon picks up, saying "Hello?"
"Hey, Jon. It's me," I tell him.
The friendly tone in his voice has been reduced to a more guarded one when he answers with, "Ryan?"
"I couldn't do it," I whisper into the receiver.
"I knew you couldn't," he says, his voice a lot softer. "Ryan, you don't have it in you. You're not a cold person."
I let out a dry sob and grasp the phone a little tighter in my hand. "I think I'm..." I say, but come to my senses, shaking my head, and think better of it. "Nevermind."
--------------
I tug on my shirt and smooth it over the top of my jeans. It's weird to be in street clothes, even weirder to be tying only one shoe. I guess I'm just thankful Spencer grabbed some clean clothes for me. He's no doubt with Jon, and I have to hurry to say goodbye to Brendon before he starts to wonder what's taking me so long. I run a hand once more through my hair even though it wouldn't make a difference and rush out the door.
I get to Brendon's room, and the door is open. When I look in, he's standing and facing the window as if he can see out of it, and I can't help but watch him.
"Ryan," he says, and it startles me. I hadn't realized I'd been standing there for that long.
"Hey, Brendon," I say as I walk into the room.
When I get to him, I can't resist giving him a hug, and when I do, Brendon whispers a quiet "Hi" in my ear.
"Do you want to sit?" I ask him when he withdraws.
He shakes his head. "No."
"Al-Alright."
"You're saying goodbye, right?" His voice catches a little in his throat, and I frown.
"Not goodbye goodbye. Just... I'm leaving to go home soon. It's not goodbye forever."
"Promise?" he asks quietly.
I hate myself because I shouldn't make promises I'm not sure I can keep, but Brendon looks so sad, and if I'm being honest, deep down, I really want to keep it. "Promise," I say.
Brendon nods, and without warning, his hand reaches up and cups the side of my face. I just about have a panic attack, can feel the surge of adrenalin that comes with fear, and my heart starts to pound in my chest. But then I realize that, no, he's touching the other side, so there's no need to panic. Yet.
He's close as he tilts his head up, and I'm briefly reminded that I am taller than him when I stand up straight. I lean forward and close the gap between us because I really, truly want to feel his lips against mine. They're so soft, and there's something about kissing Brendon that gives me a feeling of belonging, like there's nothing else I should be doing. His other hand finds my hip, and I can feel him sneak his thumb under my shirt. It grazes against my skin softly, and I'm only panicking just a little at the contact because no one ever touches me like that.
When Brendon pulls back, I'm surprised to find myself panting slightly and more surprised that he's doing the same.
"I... I'll miss you," he says, his voice a bit strained.
"I’ll miss you too," I whisper. "Bye."
He chuckles sadly. "I'll be seeing you."
I frown, not even wanting to think about his words at all. I wonder if he really knows what he’s saying. I give his hand one last squeeze, turn around, and exit the room, only pausing at the door for a second to look back at him and seeing that he's watching me leave, or at least, appearing to.
I try not to think about it too much because I have to get past Spencer. Jon will know right away what's up, so I can't do anything about that.
I stop by Jon's room next, and sure enough, Spencer's with him.
"It's about time," he says. "What took you so long?"
My eyes catch Jon's, and I was right because the look on my face is enough to garner a doleful look from Jon. "I just had some things to take care of."
Spencer furrows his brow as he contemplates my answer. "Like more paperwork?" He'd spent a good part of the morning watching me sign, date, and initial a large stack of forms.
"Something like that," I tell him.
I walk over to Jon, who is resting in his bed, while Spencer leaves the room, saying that he’ll meet me outside with my stuff. When I reach him, Jon holds out his arms for a hug, and I sink into it, feeling his strong arms around me, his fingers combing through my hair as he ruffles it affectionately.
When I pull back, Jon gives me a sly smile. “This isn’t the last you’ll see of me. I can guarantee it.”
I offer him a half smile, touched by his words. His expression shifts to a more serious one, and his voice has softened. “I’m sorry for yelling at you. I’m just trying to look out for you, you know? Ryan, I care about you. Don’t forget that, okay?”
I bite my lip and nod. “I-I won’t.”
“Good,” he says as he reaches out and punches me playfully in the shoulder. He raises his eyebrows at me since I haven’t moved. “Spence is waiting.”
“Thanks, Jon,” I tell him finally.
“For what?” he asks.
I sigh. “For giving a shit about me. In a weird way, I’m glad you yelled at me.”
Jon’s lips quirk up into a fond smile. “Anytime, man.”
He chuckles, and I raise my hand in a wave before turning and shuffling out the door.
I glance around the hallway to find Spencer leaning against a wall a few yards away with my bag and the box of books that mostly went unread during my stay here. I reach down to pick up the bag when Spencer stops me and points. I follow his finger to find the head nurse with an empty wheelchair for me.
“Do I have to?” I ask her.
“Hospital policy,” she says, though, to my surprise, she cracks a smile. Maybe “Stalin” was a bit of an exaggeration.
I take a seat in it, and as we move toward the elevator, I can’t help trying to peek in Brendon’s room as we pass it.
Back to the real world, I guess.
--------------------------
When we get to our apartment, I lead Spencer, who is carrying all my crap, into my room, and he sets it all down unceremoniously before declaring that he has to go to work and that he’ll pick up dinner on the way home.
He pats my arm and says, “Good to have you home,” before walking out, and soon, I hear the front door open and close, confirming his departure.
I take a deep breath and collapse onto my bed. I only now realize how much I missed my own bed, the smell of the house (“Hawaiian Breeze”, Spencer had picked it out), the sounds of the busy street two floors down that come through the window. On second thought, I don’t really miss the hospital.
Just Jon. And most definitely Brendon.
I close my eyes and picture Brendon’s smile, and warmth spreads throughout my body, causing me to smile myself. I open them and turn my head to the empty space next to me, and I can feel the smile on my face retreating.
It only just occurs to me that I don’t really have anything of Brendon’s, not even a picture. All I’ve got to keep me from feeling lonely is the memory of him, and that’s hardly enough.
I miss him.
----------------
A/N:
Before anyone asks, the Kareem Abdul Jabeef sandwich does exist. There's a sandwich place called Socko's Subs that people at work order from all the time because not only are the sandwiches awesome, it's free delivery with no minimum, and the place is run by a bunch of stoners and it's so chill.
Oh and this one has a little nod to the original work.
Author: spazzyskittles/Tiffany
Rating: PG-13
Pairing: Ryan/Brendon, Jon/Spencer
POV: 1st (Ryan's)
Summary: An accident lands Ryan in the hospital, and he meets Jon, who tells him of a mysterious patient on their floor. There's something not quite right about him, but then again, there's something not quite right about Ryan as well.
Disclaimer: I don’t own Panic at the Disco. This is all just a by-product of an overactive imagination.
Author Notes: This is a completed story and will be updated every other day. Thanks to my beta pinkkchocolate, I couldn't have done it without you.
1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13
Chapter 14
“Hey, jackass. Thanks for not calling me.” Spencer’s voice is a lot more light-hearted than his words would imply.
“Sorry,” I mumble as I shift in the chair I’ve been sitting in. He takes the other seat and plops a paper bag down in front of me. “Thanks, Spence.”
“I got you a cookie,” he says. I can feel his eyes on me, analyzing me, as I take a sandwich out and unwrap it. “It’s a Kareem Abdul Jabeef.”
“You know, you can just say ‘roast beef sandwich’,” I tell him with a straight face.
Spencer scoffs. “What’s the fun in that? Plus, that’s what it’s called.”
I roll my eyes and take a bite. It’s quiet as I eat. That is, until Spencer says, “So really, Ryan. Why didn’t you call me when you found out you’d be leaving?”
I shrug, using a full mouth as an excuse not to answer. “You’re weird, man,” he tells me. “A week ago, you were dying to leave.”
I sigh and give Spencer a pleading look, a look that he knows that I really, really don't want to talk about it. He looks almost startled because, like I said, he knows that look, and he probably can't imagine a reason for it. I turn back to my sandwich and continue eating.
"Is it because," he asks, cutting through the silence between us, "you're more comfortable here?"
I frown, not really understanding. "What do you mean?"
He shrugs. "I don't know. I guess it seems like you're a lot more yourself here. I just thought it was because, I don't know, people here care less about... what you look like. And maybe, maybe you don't want to go back."
It's true. I've always been more comfortable around hospitals. People here, the nurses, the doctors, most of the patients, don't treat me any differently. They don't stare rudely or ignore me. I'm just like any other patient. It's almost like a level playing field here. But when I leave, it'll be back to normal. No one but Spencer is going to give a damn about me. Pretty soon, I'll be back at work, stocking books in the back to avoid people. I'll rush through campus with my head ducked down and sit in the back and never, ever draw attention to myself. I'm not really looking forward to it. I like not having to hide all the time.
Even though that's not really the reason, he's given me a perfectly plausible one for the way I'm acting, and I can't help clinging onto it. "You're right, Spence." I look down to the empty sandwich wrapper in front of me. "I don't want to go back."
At that, Spencer leans forward, and his arms are around me. I can't stop myself from leaning into the hug because I really fucking need it.
--------------
When Spencer leaves, I pick up the phone on my bedside table and dial Jon's room number. It rings twice, and then Jon picks up, saying "Hello?"
"Hey, Jon. It's me," I tell him.
The friendly tone in his voice has been reduced to a more guarded one when he answers with, "Ryan?"
"I couldn't do it," I whisper into the receiver.
"I knew you couldn't," he says, his voice a lot softer. "Ryan, you don't have it in you. You're not a cold person."
I let out a dry sob and grasp the phone a little tighter in my hand. "I think I'm..." I say, but come to my senses, shaking my head, and think better of it. "Nevermind."
--------------
I tug on my shirt and smooth it over the top of my jeans. It's weird to be in street clothes, even weirder to be tying only one shoe. I guess I'm just thankful Spencer grabbed some clean clothes for me. He's no doubt with Jon, and I have to hurry to say goodbye to Brendon before he starts to wonder what's taking me so long. I run a hand once more through my hair even though it wouldn't make a difference and rush out the door.
I get to Brendon's room, and the door is open. When I look in, he's standing and facing the window as if he can see out of it, and I can't help but watch him.
"Ryan," he says, and it startles me. I hadn't realized I'd been standing there for that long.
"Hey, Brendon," I say as I walk into the room.
When I get to him, I can't resist giving him a hug, and when I do, Brendon whispers a quiet "Hi" in my ear.
"Do you want to sit?" I ask him when he withdraws.
He shakes his head. "No."
"Al-Alright."
"You're saying goodbye, right?" His voice catches a little in his throat, and I frown.
"Not goodbye goodbye. Just... I'm leaving to go home soon. It's not goodbye forever."
"Promise?" he asks quietly.
I hate myself because I shouldn't make promises I'm not sure I can keep, but Brendon looks so sad, and if I'm being honest, deep down, I really want to keep it. "Promise," I say.
Brendon nods, and without warning, his hand reaches up and cups the side of my face. I just about have a panic attack, can feel the surge of adrenalin that comes with fear, and my heart starts to pound in my chest. But then I realize that, no, he's touching the other side, so there's no need to panic. Yet.
He's close as he tilts his head up, and I'm briefly reminded that I am taller than him when I stand up straight. I lean forward and close the gap between us because I really, truly want to feel his lips against mine. They're so soft, and there's something about kissing Brendon that gives me a feeling of belonging, like there's nothing else I should be doing. His other hand finds my hip, and I can feel him sneak his thumb under my shirt. It grazes against my skin softly, and I'm only panicking just a little at the contact because no one ever touches me like that.
When Brendon pulls back, I'm surprised to find myself panting slightly and more surprised that he's doing the same.
"I... I'll miss you," he says, his voice a bit strained.
"I’ll miss you too," I whisper. "Bye."
He chuckles sadly. "I'll be seeing you."
I frown, not even wanting to think about his words at all. I wonder if he really knows what he’s saying. I give his hand one last squeeze, turn around, and exit the room, only pausing at the door for a second to look back at him and seeing that he's watching me leave, or at least, appearing to.
I try not to think about it too much because I have to get past Spencer. Jon will know right away what's up, so I can't do anything about that.
I stop by Jon's room next, and sure enough, Spencer's with him.
"It's about time," he says. "What took you so long?"
My eyes catch Jon's, and I was right because the look on my face is enough to garner a doleful look from Jon. "I just had some things to take care of."
Spencer furrows his brow as he contemplates my answer. "Like more paperwork?" He'd spent a good part of the morning watching me sign, date, and initial a large stack of forms.
"Something like that," I tell him.
I walk over to Jon, who is resting in his bed, while Spencer leaves the room, saying that he’ll meet me outside with my stuff. When I reach him, Jon holds out his arms for a hug, and I sink into it, feeling his strong arms around me, his fingers combing through my hair as he ruffles it affectionately.
When I pull back, Jon gives me a sly smile. “This isn’t the last you’ll see of me. I can guarantee it.”
I offer him a half smile, touched by his words. His expression shifts to a more serious one, and his voice has softened. “I’m sorry for yelling at you. I’m just trying to look out for you, you know? Ryan, I care about you. Don’t forget that, okay?”
I bite my lip and nod. “I-I won’t.”
“Good,” he says as he reaches out and punches me playfully in the shoulder. He raises his eyebrows at me since I haven’t moved. “Spence is waiting.”
“Thanks, Jon,” I tell him finally.
“For what?” he asks.
I sigh. “For giving a shit about me. In a weird way, I’m glad you yelled at me.”
Jon’s lips quirk up into a fond smile. “Anytime, man.”
He chuckles, and I raise my hand in a wave before turning and shuffling out the door.
I glance around the hallway to find Spencer leaning against a wall a few yards away with my bag and the box of books that mostly went unread during my stay here. I reach down to pick up the bag when Spencer stops me and points. I follow his finger to find the head nurse with an empty wheelchair for me.
“Do I have to?” I ask her.
“Hospital policy,” she says, though, to my surprise, she cracks a smile. Maybe “Stalin” was a bit of an exaggeration.
I take a seat in it, and as we move toward the elevator, I can’t help trying to peek in Brendon’s room as we pass it.
Back to the real world, I guess.
--------------------------
When we get to our apartment, I lead Spencer, who is carrying all my crap, into my room, and he sets it all down unceremoniously before declaring that he has to go to work and that he’ll pick up dinner on the way home.
He pats my arm and says, “Good to have you home,” before walking out, and soon, I hear the front door open and close, confirming his departure.
I take a deep breath and collapse onto my bed. I only now realize how much I missed my own bed, the smell of the house (“Hawaiian Breeze”, Spencer had picked it out), the sounds of the busy street two floors down that come through the window. On second thought, I don’t really miss the hospital.
Just Jon. And most definitely Brendon.
I close my eyes and picture Brendon’s smile, and warmth spreads throughout my body, causing me to smile myself. I open them and turn my head to the empty space next to me, and I can feel the smile on my face retreating.
It only just occurs to me that I don’t really have anything of Brendon’s, not even a picture. All I’ve got to keep me from feeling lonely is the memory of him, and that’s hardly enough.
I miss him.
----------------
A/N:
Before anyone asks, the Kareem Abdul Jabeef sandwich does exist. There's a sandwich place called Socko's Subs that people at work order from all the time because not only are the sandwiches awesome, it's free delivery with no minimum, and the place is run by a bunch of stoners and it's so chill.
Oh and this one has a little nod to the original work.