Freaks [16/20]
Title: Freaks [16/20]
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 | 15
Chapter 16
You know that feeling you get when you haven’t studied for a test and you’re just praying that it’s not on this one topic you have absolutely no clue about, and then you get it and that’s all the test is on? And somewhere, deep down, you knew all along that that was how it was going to end up? You knew that you were just fucked, right from the get-go?
Yeah, that feeling. Well, that’s exactly what I’m feeling right now.
Because all the dread and anticipation has just collided and formed into a solid mass and dropped in my stomach.
“Ryan!” Brendon shouts excitedly into the phone. “Did you hear what I said? I can see!”
I swallow to help me find my voice. “Yes, Brendon,” I choke out, trying to mask the fear and sound ecstatic. “That’s great! Y-You’re all better.”
Brendon giggles, giggles, on the other end. “Well, it’s not like how I was before yet. When they took off my bandages, my eyes watered like crazy, and everything was all fuzzy, and I was really sensitive to light, even when it was already really dim in the room to begin with. But I could see shapes and colors, and when my doctor examined my eyes, he told me that I should be able to see clearer and clearer every day. My eyes are healing, Ryan!”
“That’s… that’s wonderful,” I say quietly, hoping that Brendon can’t sense the sadness I feel. But even where there is that sadness, I still feel the relief he’s feeling. I don’t think I’ve ever heard Brendon sound this optimistic before, and in all honesty, it sounds really good on him. I have a feeling this is how he’s meant to sound, not like the despondent, lost Brendon I’ve spent so much time with.
I wish to God I could start over. At least then I wouldn’t be feeling like something has shattered before me. I wouldn’t feel as conflicted as I do.
I hate that I’m this selfish. I don’t want to be.
“Brendon,” I say more firmly, “I’m so happy for you.”
“You’re coming to see me tomorrow, right?” Brendon asks, his voice almost breathy. “You promised. Maybe I could see you. Finally.” He says the last part more to himself than to me. At his words, I feel my heart start to beat quickly, almost pounding in my chest.
It’s time to face the music, so they say. How the fuck am I going to explain myself?
“Ryan, you’re coming by, right?” Brendon says, his voice a lot less excited and a lot more worried than it had been previously.
“Yes, Brendon. I’ll… I’ll be there.” I shut my eyes as the words fall from lips.
I’m screwed.
------------------
“Ryan?” I hear Spencer’s voice on the other side of the door. He sounds concerned, but I can’t really bring myself to get out of bed or turn on the light, much less respond.
If I could guess what time it is, I’d say around seven, seven-thirty, since Spencer just got home, and it only just got dark. But I haven’t turned on a light, and he can tell, since there probably isn’t any coming from underneath my door. I’m definitely home since he hasn’t taken me anywhere and I can’t go far on my own, and he knows how much I hate taking naps so late since it causes me to stay up until the wee hours of the morning.
It’s like I can hear Spencer rationalizing in his head, dismissing every plausible idea until he’s left with the most familiar one. After all, he’s seen me at my worst, and I can feel myself slipping back there. It’s only a matter of time.
The door creaks open, and I curl into myself more and tug my sheets closer around me as I continue to stare out the window. I feel my bed dip down against Spencer’s weight, and I can tell he’s lying on his back as he lifts his hand to grasp my arm lightly.
“I don’t know what’s wrong, and that scares me,” Spencer tells the ceiling.
Well played, Spencer Smith. He knows how much I hate being the reason for any of his distress. I know that he’s always worried about me, but he tries to keep it all to himself. Except in times like these.
“I’m sorry I’m scaring you,” I mumble.
“Then tell me what’s wrong,” he says insistently.
“I’m just having a bad day.”
I feel his grip on my arm tighten a little. “I know when you’re lying. No matter how much you lie and scare the shit out of me, I’ll love you forever, Ryan. But I’ll still always know, and I don’t like it when you do.”
There’s a pause as I take in his words, letting them ring in the silence around us. “I have to work it out on my own, Spence,” I say finally with a sigh.
He sighs right back but loosens his grip. “Fair enough,” he says resignedly. “Do you want me to leave?”
“If you want to stay, I’d… I’d like it if you did.”
He gives my arm a pat and scooches a little closer. “Okay. How about I’ll let you wallow in whatever it is for another fifteen minutes, and then I take you to get something to eat?”
I think for a minute. “Deal.”
--------------
We’re at the pizza place a few blocks down, and the two of us are tearing into a large pizza with everything the way we’ve always done.
“So,” Spencer says around a mouthful of crust, “Jon asked me out. On like a real date.”
“That’s great,” I tell him because it really is. Letting Spencer talk about this is giving me a nice distraction, and I feel like, even though he doesn’t really know what it is up, he knows that giving me something else to think about is making me feel a little bit better. At the very least, the dread I’m feeling is less glaring and has shifted more towards the back of my mind.
“Yeah,” he says softly and a little dreamily.
I grab another slice. “When?”
“Soon. After Jon’s healed up a bit though. You know, he went home just today.”
“I heard,” I say.
Spencer nods. “Well, whenever he feels up for it, I was thinking maybe I could bring him around. He says he misses you. Says you should call him.”
I look down at my plate. Jon. My other friend. I really should call him.
I don’t, though. Not tonight. When we get home, I make my way to my room, carefully shutting the door behind me, and climb back under the covers.
Ryan Ross is a coward. When the going gets tough, I hide from the world.
----------------
There is a rhythm to each day. And right now, as I make my way over to the elevators, it’s the buh-boom, buh-boom of my heart against my ribcage, the thump-shhh of my boot as I shuffle along slowly but determinedly, the quick, short hehs of my breath as I feel myself going into panic mode. Right now, all sounds are amplified, my ears picking up even the slightest noise. I’m hyper-aware of anything and everything around me.
When I get to the elevator, I can hear the distinct gulp as I swallow down my fear, and the faint click of the “up” button sounds more and more like cocking a gun each time I push it.
I ride the elevator to the fifth floor, and when the doors open, I stare out into the familiar hallway. I can see the nurses’ station where the friendly faces I’ve come to know and recognize don’t look up because they’re too busy with work. There are phones ringing, people chattering; it’s business as usual. And then I stare ahead of me into the hallway, and it’s as if it narrows and lengthens before me.
Everything is in slow motion. The doors of the elevator are about to close, and it’s fight or flight time.
I choose flight.
My hand reaches out and pushes the “doors close” button multiple times before I have a chance to change my mind. When they do finally close with a clang, I allow myself to slump against the wall of the elevator and try to take deep, calming breaths. They’re no use, though, since I can already feel my emotions becoming too much to contain. My eyes start to water, which makes me think of Brendon (“My eyes watered like crazy!” he’d said excitedly, almost as if he was overjoyed that they did), and it makes it even worse.
I wipe furiously at my eyes because riding the elevator down four floors doesn’t take very long, and I compose myself enough to shuffle out onto the first floor with my head hanging low so no one who happens to be around can see the red nose I undoubtedly have, or the tear streaks I know are there, or the puffy eyes that are still leaking tears.
I’m walking out of the hospital as fast as I can, walking away from Brendon and away from the illusion I’d built up.
We were never an “us”, I tell myself, and I believe it.
When I get outside, I take a deep breath, hoping that the warm, fresh air of a summer afternoon can help me calm down. With shaky hands, I pull my phone out of my pocket and text Spencer to tell him that I’m ready to be picked up. I make my way over to a bench to wait for him.
It’s over.
Now, I can go back to how I was before. Who was I kidding? I never deserved to be normal; this was the hand life dealt me, and as shitty as it was, I was supposed to live with it.
I was not supposed to keep Brendon, not that I ever really had him in the first place. I didn’t leave him, exactly. I just… gave him back, returned what isn’t mine to… to love.
I get a text back from Spencer saying he’ll be here in five. I try my best to clear my mind, push the thoughts away, because when he picks me up, he’ll read me like a book. He’ll know something is up and want to know why I’m upset, and I still can’t bring myself to tell him. I take out a napkin from my pocket and wipe my nose and face quickly to get rid of all the evidence I can, and I pull a pair of sunglasses from my pocket and put them on in the hope that the dark tint of the lenses is enough to conceal my puffy eyes.
When Spencer pulls up, I get in without a word, and I just know he senses something but doesn’t say much of anything, while I only grunt in response of what he does say. He drops me off in front of our building since he has to go back to work, but before he drives off, I turn to him and Spencer gives me a smile. The best I can do is force myself to quirk the corner of my lips up just a hair and wave. I turn back around and take the stairs to our apartment as quickly as I can in a cast, and my hands shake as I fit my key in the lock. I struggle the door open and all but fling myself into my apartment, slamming the door shut behind me before stumbling into my own room.
It’s there that I finally collapse and let it all go. I’ve let Brendon go.
----------------
A/N:
Soundtrack Part 2
DON'T HATE ME (or Ryan, I'm fiercely protective of him, just like Spencer McDisco)!
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 | 15
Chapter 16
You know that feeling you get when you haven’t studied for a test and you’re just praying that it’s not on this one topic you have absolutely no clue about, and then you get it and that’s all the test is on? And somewhere, deep down, you knew all along that that was how it was going to end up? You knew that you were just fucked, right from the get-go?
Yeah, that feeling. Well, that’s exactly what I’m feeling right now.
Because all the dread and anticipation has just collided and formed into a solid mass and dropped in my stomach.
“Ryan!” Brendon shouts excitedly into the phone. “Did you hear what I said? I can see!”
I swallow to help me find my voice. “Yes, Brendon,” I choke out, trying to mask the fear and sound ecstatic. “That’s great! Y-You’re all better.”
Brendon giggles, giggles, on the other end. “Well, it’s not like how I was before yet. When they took off my bandages, my eyes watered like crazy, and everything was all fuzzy, and I was really sensitive to light, even when it was already really dim in the room to begin with. But I could see shapes and colors, and when my doctor examined my eyes, he told me that I should be able to see clearer and clearer every day. My eyes are healing, Ryan!”
“That’s… that’s wonderful,” I say quietly, hoping that Brendon can’t sense the sadness I feel. But even where there is that sadness, I still feel the relief he’s feeling. I don’t think I’ve ever heard Brendon sound this optimistic before, and in all honesty, it sounds really good on him. I have a feeling this is how he’s meant to sound, not like the despondent, lost Brendon I’ve spent so much time with.
I wish to God I could start over. At least then I wouldn’t be feeling like something has shattered before me. I wouldn’t feel as conflicted as I do.
I hate that I’m this selfish. I don’t want to be.
“Brendon,” I say more firmly, “I’m so happy for you.”
“You’re coming to see me tomorrow, right?” Brendon asks, his voice almost breathy. “You promised. Maybe I could see you. Finally.” He says the last part more to himself than to me. At his words, I feel my heart start to beat quickly, almost pounding in my chest.
It’s time to face the music, so they say. How the fuck am I going to explain myself?
“Ryan, you’re coming by, right?” Brendon says, his voice a lot less excited and a lot more worried than it had been previously.
“Yes, Brendon. I’ll… I’ll be there.” I shut my eyes as the words fall from lips.
I’m screwed.
------------------
“Ryan?” I hear Spencer’s voice on the other side of the door. He sounds concerned, but I can’t really bring myself to get out of bed or turn on the light, much less respond.
If I could guess what time it is, I’d say around seven, seven-thirty, since Spencer just got home, and it only just got dark. But I haven’t turned on a light, and he can tell, since there probably isn’t any coming from underneath my door. I’m definitely home since he hasn’t taken me anywhere and I can’t go far on my own, and he knows how much I hate taking naps so late since it causes me to stay up until the wee hours of the morning.
It’s like I can hear Spencer rationalizing in his head, dismissing every plausible idea until he’s left with the most familiar one. After all, he’s seen me at my worst, and I can feel myself slipping back there. It’s only a matter of time.
The door creaks open, and I curl into myself more and tug my sheets closer around me as I continue to stare out the window. I feel my bed dip down against Spencer’s weight, and I can tell he’s lying on his back as he lifts his hand to grasp my arm lightly.
“I don’t know what’s wrong, and that scares me,” Spencer tells the ceiling.
Well played, Spencer Smith. He knows how much I hate being the reason for any of his distress. I know that he’s always worried about me, but he tries to keep it all to himself. Except in times like these.
“I’m sorry I’m scaring you,” I mumble.
“Then tell me what’s wrong,” he says insistently.
“I’m just having a bad day.”
I feel his grip on my arm tighten a little. “I know when you’re lying. No matter how much you lie and scare the shit out of me, I’ll love you forever, Ryan. But I’ll still always know, and I don’t like it when you do.”
There’s a pause as I take in his words, letting them ring in the silence around us. “I have to work it out on my own, Spence,” I say finally with a sigh.
He sighs right back but loosens his grip. “Fair enough,” he says resignedly. “Do you want me to leave?”
“If you want to stay, I’d… I’d like it if you did.”
He gives my arm a pat and scooches a little closer. “Okay. How about I’ll let you wallow in whatever it is for another fifteen minutes, and then I take you to get something to eat?”
I think for a minute. “Deal.”
--------------
We’re at the pizza place a few blocks down, and the two of us are tearing into a large pizza with everything the way we’ve always done.
“So,” Spencer says around a mouthful of crust, “Jon asked me out. On like a real date.”
“That’s great,” I tell him because it really is. Letting Spencer talk about this is giving me a nice distraction, and I feel like, even though he doesn’t really know what it is up, he knows that giving me something else to think about is making me feel a little bit better. At the very least, the dread I’m feeling is less glaring and has shifted more towards the back of my mind.
“Yeah,” he says softly and a little dreamily.
I grab another slice. “When?”
“Soon. After Jon’s healed up a bit though. You know, he went home just today.”
“I heard,” I say.
Spencer nods. “Well, whenever he feels up for it, I was thinking maybe I could bring him around. He says he misses you. Says you should call him.”
I look down at my plate. Jon. My other friend. I really should call him.
I don’t, though. Not tonight. When we get home, I make my way to my room, carefully shutting the door behind me, and climb back under the covers.
Ryan Ross is a coward. When the going gets tough, I hide from the world.
----------------
There is a rhythm to each day. And right now, as I make my way over to the elevators, it’s the buh-boom, buh-boom of my heart against my ribcage, the thump-shhh of my boot as I shuffle along slowly but determinedly, the quick, short hehs of my breath as I feel myself going into panic mode. Right now, all sounds are amplified, my ears picking up even the slightest noise. I’m hyper-aware of anything and everything around me.
When I get to the elevator, I can hear the distinct gulp as I swallow down my fear, and the faint click of the “up” button sounds more and more like cocking a gun each time I push it.
I ride the elevator to the fifth floor, and when the doors open, I stare out into the familiar hallway. I can see the nurses’ station where the friendly faces I’ve come to know and recognize don’t look up because they’re too busy with work. There are phones ringing, people chattering; it’s business as usual. And then I stare ahead of me into the hallway, and it’s as if it narrows and lengthens before me.
Everything is in slow motion. The doors of the elevator are about to close, and it’s fight or flight time.
I choose flight.
My hand reaches out and pushes the “doors close” button multiple times before I have a chance to change my mind. When they do finally close with a clang, I allow myself to slump against the wall of the elevator and try to take deep, calming breaths. They’re no use, though, since I can already feel my emotions becoming too much to contain. My eyes start to water, which makes me think of Brendon (“My eyes watered like crazy!” he’d said excitedly, almost as if he was overjoyed that they did), and it makes it even worse.
I wipe furiously at my eyes because riding the elevator down four floors doesn’t take very long, and I compose myself enough to shuffle out onto the first floor with my head hanging low so no one who happens to be around can see the red nose I undoubtedly have, or the tear streaks I know are there, or the puffy eyes that are still leaking tears.
I’m walking out of the hospital as fast as I can, walking away from Brendon and away from the illusion I’d built up.
We were never an “us”, I tell myself, and I believe it.
When I get outside, I take a deep breath, hoping that the warm, fresh air of a summer afternoon can help me calm down. With shaky hands, I pull my phone out of my pocket and text Spencer to tell him that I’m ready to be picked up. I make my way over to a bench to wait for him.
It’s over.
Now, I can go back to how I was before. Who was I kidding? I never deserved to be normal; this was the hand life dealt me, and as shitty as it was, I was supposed to live with it.
I was not supposed to keep Brendon, not that I ever really had him in the first place. I didn’t leave him, exactly. I just… gave him back, returned what isn’t mine to… to love.
I get a text back from Spencer saying he’ll be here in five. I try my best to clear my mind, push the thoughts away, because when he picks me up, he’ll read me like a book. He’ll know something is up and want to know why I’m upset, and I still can’t bring myself to tell him. I take out a napkin from my pocket and wipe my nose and face quickly to get rid of all the evidence I can, and I pull a pair of sunglasses from my pocket and put them on in the hope that the dark tint of the lenses is enough to conceal my puffy eyes.
When Spencer pulls up, I get in without a word, and I just know he senses something but doesn’t say much of anything, while I only grunt in response of what he does say. He drops me off in front of our building since he has to go back to work, but before he drives off, I turn to him and Spencer gives me a smile. The best I can do is force myself to quirk the corner of my lips up just a hair and wave. I turn back around and take the stairs to our apartment as quickly as I can in a cast, and my hands shake as I fit my key in the lock. I struggle the door open and all but fling myself into my apartment, slamming the door shut behind me before stumbling into my own room.
It’s there that I finally collapse and let it all go. I’ve let Brendon go.
----------------
A/N:
Soundtrack Part 2
DON'T HATE ME (or Ryan, I'm fiercely protective of him, just like Spencer McDisco)!