Freaks [15/20]
Title: Freaks [15/20]
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 | 14
Chapter 15
“Hey, Ryan.” It’s nice to hear Brendon’s voice, but I don’t like the way he sounds so sad with just those two words. I thought Brendon was getting better; he seemed to be happier and happier everyday.
“Hey,” I say softly. “You don’t sound okay. Is everything alright, Brendon?”
He sighs. “It’s not the same without you here.”
“Oh, Brendon,” I whisper as I bite my lip.
“When are you coming to visit?” he asks.
I swallow. “Uh, after my physical therapy session tomorrow? I could stop by after, you know.”
“I’d like that,” he says, a small amount of hope in his voice.
Silence follows, and I can hear Brendon breathing on the other line. “Jon says,” Brendon says quietly, and I push the phone closer to my ear, “that he’s going home in a couple of days.”
“Oh?”
Brendon distinctly sighs on the other end of the line. “Yeah.”
“Do you know when you’re going to get to go home?” I ask him.
“I don’t know,” he responds. “They’re still not sure about how my eyes are healing.” He sighs again. “I’ll let you go,” he says, and I feel my stomach drop a little. “It’s late.”
“Um, okay,” I say. “Bye.”
“I miss you,” Brendon says as a farewell and hangs up.
-----------------
After my physical therapy session, my first one as an outpatient, I head towards the elevators to go up to see Brendon. I can feel my heart start to pound in my chest because I’m really going to do this. I had promised myself I wouldn’t, but I’m going to see Brendon anyway.
All of a sudden, when I reach the elevators, something very solid bumps into my shoulder. I can feel myself losing my balance as I sway a little and put my arms out to brace myself for a fall. Then I feel two hands grab a firm hold of my shoulders to steady me, and I only just remember to duck my head and stare at the person’s shoes, a pair of obnoxiously bright Nikes.
“Hey, are you okay, man? I’m sorry,” comes a concerned voice, and without thinking, I look up.
At the sight of my face, the man, who couldn’t have been much older than me, widens his eyes and loosens his grip on my shoulders, just enough so that I notice. I can see the unease wash over his face at the realization that I’m not as normal looking as he thought. He clenches his jaw and looks just slightly off to the left of me, mumbling another apology.
I really shouldn’t be surprised. It’s my own stupid fault for letting my guard down, and I should’ve known better. But once one or two people treat me nicely, treat me as if I have nothing to hide, then I start to forget about the real world. I shouldn’t have gotten used to it.
My face hardens, and the man all but cringes as I yank myself out of his hands. “I’m fine,” I mumble, turning away and pressing the up button. I can still feel his presence behind me, and when the doors open and I step in, he hesitates before stepping inside with me. I don’t know if he hears me scoff, but I notice him fidgeting uncomfortably next to me. He’s obviously going to the same floor I am because he doesn’t push a different button.
When the doors open, he rushes out and heads straight for the nurses’ station, while I take my time with making my way towards Brendon’s room. I pause though, when I hear the man arguing with the head nurse. I look over, and I can see him trying to thrust a slip of paper in her hand.
“Look,” he says, “why can’t you just take my check?”
“Sir,” Stalin says in a very stern voice, “it doesn’t work like that. You need to go down to billing.”
“I just want to pay for his expenses!” he yells, and the other nurses by the station stop what they’re doing to watch. He takes a deep breath and says more calmly, “I just want to make things right. Brendon doesn’t have anybody.”
My eyes widen. Did he just say “Brendon”?
The head nurse looks at him sympathetically and bends down to fill out a form. “What’s your name, hun?” she asks, her voice softer than it had been.
“Peter. Wentz. Pete,” he mumbles, and I recognize the name. It’s about fucking time he showed his face here.
She writes some more and then hands him the paper. “Alright, Mr. Wentz,” she says in a soft tone, “you’re going to go down to the elevator to the third floor and give them this. You can go after you see your friend. He’s just in that room over there.” She nods towards Brendon’s room, and he glances at it quickly before turning back and taking the piece of paper from her.
“No, that’s okay,” Pete mumbles. “I’ll go now. Thanks.”
He turns away and starts walking slowly towards the elevators as I watch him. I look back at Brendon’s room and then at Pete, and I make up my mind.
“Hey, wait!” I call after him.
He turns his head at my voice, and I see him clutch the paper in his hand a bit tighter. He bites his lip as he waits for me to go on.
“Aren’t you going to visit your friend?” I ask him, my eyebrows dipping down in anger.
“Excuse me?” he says.
“You heard me! You just said that your friend doesn’t have anyone, but you’re not going to see him. Don’t you know how fucked up that is?” I’m kind of amazed at myself. I can’t remember a time that I’ve ever yelled at a perfect stranger like this before.
“He doesn’t want to see me,” he says, his eyes cast downward.
I scoff. “Like hell he doesn’t.”
“How would you know?” Pete says with a bit of a challenge in his voice.
“Because I know what it feels like to want someone to give a damn.”
And with that, Pete looks up, and his eyes wash over my face, undoubtedly taking in the sight of the sunken side of it, along with the angry expression that covers it all. I’m not sure what exactly does it, but he nods shakily at me.
“You’re right,” he tells me, hesitating for a minute before walking past me and down the hall. I can see him pause at Brendon’s door before knocking quickly on it and entering. I watch a few more moments, just staring at the door, before leaving.
---------------------
“Where were you today?” Brendon asks when I call him. I can hear a bit of distress in his voice.
“I went up, but you had company,” I say, thankful that I don’t have to lie. “And my friend Spencer drove me so I couldn’t wait for very long.”
“Oh,” Brendon says, a bit of the edge to his voice gone.
“So you had a visitor,” I prompt.
I hear him sigh on the other end. “Yeah. That was Pete. You know, my friend with the car.”
“And?”
“And… And as pissed off that I am at him, I’m also kind of relieved.”
“Oh?” I ask for him to go on.
“He was a bit of a mess, thinking that I hate him or some bullshit. I know he’s sorry, for having a shitty car and for not coming by sooner. And he’s paying for whatever my insurance doesn’t cover, says it’s the least he could do. I was worried about having to pay for it, you know.”
I think about what he says for a minute, and then I understand. He’s a student just like me, but unlike me, he doesn’t have parents who will pay his medical bills. I mean, mine are miles away, but when it comes to my health, they surprisingly still give a shit. Without realizing it, my hands are starting to clench, the one holding the phone to my ear gripping it tightly while the other forms a fist.
“Yeah,” I say, “I get it.”
There’s a pause, and Brendon takes a breath. “I still would’ve liked to have seen you, though.” A pause. “You know what I mean,” he says, and I feel my chest tighten the way it seems to when Brendon sounds so forlorn.
“Next time?” he asks.
I have physical therapy again in two days, so I tell him that and say that I’ll be there afterwards.
“How’s life in the real world?” Brendon asks me after a while.
“Boring. I can’t go back to work just yet, and no school so I’ve just been loafing around the apartment, watching TV and reading. Reading, mostly.”
“I forget we don’t have school,” Brendon says, mild amusement in his voice. “Man, I forget we go to the same school. You know, we could’ve seen each other loads of times, been in the same classes, and never known it.”
I’m quite aware that I have no idea what Brendon really looks like, the bandages around his eyes making it difficult to actually know. But I’m pretty sure I’d never seen Brendon around campus before because I would’ve remembered him. Just… those lips, and the way his hair falls, and his jaw… I would’ve remembered him.
And Brendon, if our paths had crossed, he wouldn’t have noticed me. Or he did and pretended not to. Or he cringed. Or… Or he made fun of me to his friends. The thought of it, though, is making me feel sick. I’m sure that I can taste the acid rise from my stomach as I think, so I push the thought away because I should be used to it by now, I really should. It’s my own fault that the thought of it is affecting me like this.
But… it’s Brendon. I remind myself of this, and my stomach starts to settle a little. I don’t like to think he’s like the others. I like to think that he’s different, that he’s kind and sympathetic and caring. But isn’t that what I’m assuming anyway? That he is like the others. Isn’t that why I’m lying to him? Isn’t that why I try to pull away when I really don’t want to?
Yeah, it is. And I know that one day, I’m going to have to choose. This charade can’t go on forever, and I’ll have to bet on what kind of person I think Brendon is. And I’ll win or lose, but depending on the bet, winning could be a bad thing.
And what am I wagering? Only my stupid fucking heart.
Jon was right. This is a fucking dangerous game I’m playing.
“Ryan?” Brendon says quietly, and I realize that I’ve let us slip into yet another silence between us.
“Yeah?”
There’s a pause, and Brendon mumbles, “I miss you.”
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 | 14
Chapter 15
“Hey, Ryan.” It’s nice to hear Brendon’s voice, but I don’t like the way he sounds so sad with just those two words. I thought Brendon was getting better; he seemed to be happier and happier everyday.
“Hey,” I say softly. “You don’t sound okay. Is everything alright, Brendon?”
He sighs. “It’s not the same without you here.”
“Oh, Brendon,” I whisper as I bite my lip.
“When are you coming to visit?” he asks.
I swallow. “Uh, after my physical therapy session tomorrow? I could stop by after, you know.”
“I’d like that,” he says, a small amount of hope in his voice.
Silence follows, and I can hear Brendon breathing on the other line. “Jon says,” Brendon says quietly, and I push the phone closer to my ear, “that he’s going home in a couple of days.”
“Oh?”
Brendon distinctly sighs on the other end of the line. “Yeah.”
“Do you know when you’re going to get to go home?” I ask him.
“I don’t know,” he responds. “They’re still not sure about how my eyes are healing.” He sighs again. “I’ll let you go,” he says, and I feel my stomach drop a little. “It’s late.”
“Um, okay,” I say. “Bye.”
“I miss you,” Brendon says as a farewell and hangs up.
-----------------
After my physical therapy session, my first one as an outpatient, I head towards the elevators to go up to see Brendon. I can feel my heart start to pound in my chest because I’m really going to do this. I had promised myself I wouldn’t, but I’m going to see Brendon anyway.
All of a sudden, when I reach the elevators, something very solid bumps into my shoulder. I can feel myself losing my balance as I sway a little and put my arms out to brace myself for a fall. Then I feel two hands grab a firm hold of my shoulders to steady me, and I only just remember to duck my head and stare at the person’s shoes, a pair of obnoxiously bright Nikes.
“Hey, are you okay, man? I’m sorry,” comes a concerned voice, and without thinking, I look up.
At the sight of my face, the man, who couldn’t have been much older than me, widens his eyes and loosens his grip on my shoulders, just enough so that I notice. I can see the unease wash over his face at the realization that I’m not as normal looking as he thought. He clenches his jaw and looks just slightly off to the left of me, mumbling another apology.
I really shouldn’t be surprised. It’s my own stupid fault for letting my guard down, and I should’ve known better. But once one or two people treat me nicely, treat me as if I have nothing to hide, then I start to forget about the real world. I shouldn’t have gotten used to it.
My face hardens, and the man all but cringes as I yank myself out of his hands. “I’m fine,” I mumble, turning away and pressing the up button. I can still feel his presence behind me, and when the doors open and I step in, he hesitates before stepping inside with me. I don’t know if he hears me scoff, but I notice him fidgeting uncomfortably next to me. He’s obviously going to the same floor I am because he doesn’t push a different button.
When the doors open, he rushes out and heads straight for the nurses’ station, while I take my time with making my way towards Brendon’s room. I pause though, when I hear the man arguing with the head nurse. I look over, and I can see him trying to thrust a slip of paper in her hand.
“Look,” he says, “why can’t you just take my check?”
“Sir,” Stalin says in a very stern voice, “it doesn’t work like that. You need to go down to billing.”
“I just want to pay for his expenses!” he yells, and the other nurses by the station stop what they’re doing to watch. He takes a deep breath and says more calmly, “I just want to make things right. Brendon doesn’t have anybody.”
My eyes widen. Did he just say “Brendon”?
The head nurse looks at him sympathetically and bends down to fill out a form. “What’s your name, hun?” she asks, her voice softer than it had been.
“Peter. Wentz. Pete,” he mumbles, and I recognize the name. It’s about fucking time he showed his face here.
She writes some more and then hands him the paper. “Alright, Mr. Wentz,” she says in a soft tone, “you’re going to go down to the elevator to the third floor and give them this. You can go after you see your friend. He’s just in that room over there.” She nods towards Brendon’s room, and he glances at it quickly before turning back and taking the piece of paper from her.
“No, that’s okay,” Pete mumbles. “I’ll go now. Thanks.”
He turns away and starts walking slowly towards the elevators as I watch him. I look back at Brendon’s room and then at Pete, and I make up my mind.
“Hey, wait!” I call after him.
He turns his head at my voice, and I see him clutch the paper in his hand a bit tighter. He bites his lip as he waits for me to go on.
“Aren’t you going to visit your friend?” I ask him, my eyebrows dipping down in anger.
“Excuse me?” he says.
“You heard me! You just said that your friend doesn’t have anyone, but you’re not going to see him. Don’t you know how fucked up that is?” I’m kind of amazed at myself. I can’t remember a time that I’ve ever yelled at a perfect stranger like this before.
“He doesn’t want to see me,” he says, his eyes cast downward.
I scoff. “Like hell he doesn’t.”
“How would you know?” Pete says with a bit of a challenge in his voice.
“Because I know what it feels like to want someone to give a damn.”
And with that, Pete looks up, and his eyes wash over my face, undoubtedly taking in the sight of the sunken side of it, along with the angry expression that covers it all. I’m not sure what exactly does it, but he nods shakily at me.
“You’re right,” he tells me, hesitating for a minute before walking past me and down the hall. I can see him pause at Brendon’s door before knocking quickly on it and entering. I watch a few more moments, just staring at the door, before leaving.
---------------------
“Where were you today?” Brendon asks when I call him. I can hear a bit of distress in his voice.
“I went up, but you had company,” I say, thankful that I don’t have to lie. “And my friend Spencer drove me so I couldn’t wait for very long.”
“Oh,” Brendon says, a bit of the edge to his voice gone.
“So you had a visitor,” I prompt.
I hear him sigh on the other end. “Yeah. That was Pete. You know, my friend with the car.”
“And?”
“And… And as pissed off that I am at him, I’m also kind of relieved.”
“Oh?” I ask for him to go on.
“He was a bit of a mess, thinking that I hate him or some bullshit. I know he’s sorry, for having a shitty car and for not coming by sooner. And he’s paying for whatever my insurance doesn’t cover, says it’s the least he could do. I was worried about having to pay for it, you know.”
I think about what he says for a minute, and then I understand. He’s a student just like me, but unlike me, he doesn’t have parents who will pay his medical bills. I mean, mine are miles away, but when it comes to my health, they surprisingly still give a shit. Without realizing it, my hands are starting to clench, the one holding the phone to my ear gripping it tightly while the other forms a fist.
“Yeah,” I say, “I get it.”
There’s a pause, and Brendon takes a breath. “I still would’ve liked to have seen you, though.” A pause. “You know what I mean,” he says, and I feel my chest tighten the way it seems to when Brendon sounds so forlorn.
“Next time?” he asks.
I have physical therapy again in two days, so I tell him that and say that I’ll be there afterwards.
“How’s life in the real world?” Brendon asks me after a while.
“Boring. I can’t go back to work just yet, and no school so I’ve just been loafing around the apartment, watching TV and reading. Reading, mostly.”
“I forget we don’t have school,” Brendon says, mild amusement in his voice. “Man, I forget we go to the same school. You know, we could’ve seen each other loads of times, been in the same classes, and never known it.”
I’m quite aware that I have no idea what Brendon really looks like, the bandages around his eyes making it difficult to actually know. But I’m pretty sure I’d never seen Brendon around campus before because I would’ve remembered him. Just… those lips, and the way his hair falls, and his jaw… I would’ve remembered him.
And Brendon, if our paths had crossed, he wouldn’t have noticed me. Or he did and pretended not to. Or he cringed. Or… Or he made fun of me to his friends. The thought of it, though, is making me feel sick. I’m sure that I can taste the acid rise from my stomach as I think, so I push the thought away because I should be used to it by now, I really should. It’s my own fault that the thought of it is affecting me like this.
But… it’s Brendon. I remind myself of this, and my stomach starts to settle a little. I don’t like to think he’s like the others. I like to think that he’s different, that he’s kind and sympathetic and caring. But isn’t that what I’m assuming anyway? That he is like the others. Isn’t that why I’m lying to him? Isn’t that why I try to pull away when I really don’t want to?
Yeah, it is. And I know that one day, I’m going to have to choose. This charade can’t go on forever, and I’ll have to bet on what kind of person I think Brendon is. And I’ll win or lose, but depending on the bet, winning could be a bad thing.
And what am I wagering? Only my stupid fucking heart.
Jon was right. This is a fucking dangerous game I’m playing.
“Ryan?” Brendon says quietly, and I realize that I’ve let us slip into yet another silence between us.
“Yeah?”
There’s a pause, and Brendon mumbles, “I miss you.”