Freaks [22/23]
Title: Freaks [22/23]
Author: spazzyskittles/Tiffany
Rating: PG-13
Pairing: Ryan/Brendon, Jon/Spencer
POV: 1st (Ryan's Brendon'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 | 16 | 17 | 18 | 19 | 20 | 16B
Chapter 20B - Brendon (takes place during the first half of Chapter 20)
From outside the store, I can hear someone playing random notes on a keyboard, and when I open the door, the sounds of some metal band playing over the store speakers all but blast me in the face. I haven’t been by for a really long time, but I think my eyesight is good enough to maybe play around on a kit for a bit. At the very least, it might take my mind off him, for a little while.
“Brendon! Long time no see, bro,” comes the voice of Spencer from the drum department. I wave hello to the customer service girl behind the counter as I head past some dude with no rhythm trying out the electric drums near the front.
“Spencer, hey,” I say, giving him a high five/pound it hybrid.
“I’ve missed you, man,” he says, smiling a shiny smile at me that I try to return. “Where’ve you been? And what’s with the shades? Too cool for school, are you?”
“Ha, no,” I say, trying to play it off. I really don’t want to talk about it much. “I just, uh, was in an accident, hurt my eyes. It’s getting better though.”
“Oh man, that sucks,” Spencer says, eyes full of concern and something else I can’t really decipher. Wondering? “You going to be alright? I mean-”
“I’ll be fine,” I tell him, trying to smile. “I just haven’t played anything in a while, and my fingers are itching.” I clench my fingers a little to drive home my point.
“Sure, Brendon. You know where the demo sticks are,” he says, gesturing toward the plastic bucket of beat up drumsticks anyway.
I grab a couple and hop over to the closest kit as I see Spencer check his watch and pick up the phone. Alright, I can do this. When I take a seat, everything feels familiar, natural. Instinctively, I start one of the first beats I’d learned, just to get back into the swing of things. Then I switch it up so that I’m improvising, letting the sticks hit where they must in time.
But despite it all, it’s still not providing enough of a distraction. I’m still thinking about Ryan.
And I’m damn certain it was Ryan. He didn’t say a word, but I’d know the feel of his hands anywhere. I’ve memorized every single inch of them because that was the only thing I had to cling to at that hospital. It was the only thing tethering me to reality, keeping me from slipping and falling. Holding his hand let me know that there was someone there in all that darkness. You can only live inside your head for so long, I’ve found out. And the weight of his hand in mine drew me out, kept me safe, and made me feel alive and human.
Then he was gone, and I thought I’d never be able to feel that again. But I was wrong because I felt it again just last week, and it’s been plaguing me ever since. It threw me off, just as I was beginning to cope.
I hit the snare a little harder than I normally would because I’m starting to get emotional again, and I wail a little on the kit to get my frustration out. After a few seconds, I check myself, adjusting so that I’m playing casually again.
Because you know what gets me? It’s that I don’t even want to think about what he did to me. Instead, I find myself focusing more and more on what could’ve happened to him to make him look as he does. Ryan hadn’t so much as breathed a word about his face, but looking back and remembering our time together, more things are making sense, things that I’d dismissed at the time. Like how uncomfortable he was when I wanted to touch him, and how down he was about himself.
And then there was Jon’s insistence that Ryan had his reasons. I almost want to punch Jon in the face next time I see him for not telling me, but letting me yell at him the other day on the phone gave him a couple of forgiveness points.
There seems to be a lot that I don’t know, a lot that I should know. Who left Ryan that way? Were people horrible to him for it? Does it hurt him? Is that what made him just… hate himself? I just want to know. Even though he’s put me through so much, I can’t help caring. Ryan did have his reasons, and it doesn’t make what he did to me any less shitty. Jon was right about that. But at least I’m starting to understand. I just need to find him so that he can tell me the rest.
Bu-bum chh chh, bu-bum thump crash. My arms are starting to get tired, but it’s a good feeling so I keep going.
My thoughts are a swirl of beats and drums and cymbals with Ryan-Ryan-Ryan mixed in, but it all melts away when I hear Spencer at the front yell out just the name I’ve been focusing on. My arms stop their motions, and I only just stop myself from altogether dropping the drumsticks in my hands when I realize what is happening.
However, I can’t stop myself from getting up from behind the kit and moving slowly closer towards Spencer and Ryan. Neither of them notice me as I witness their exchange, trying to wrap my mind around the fact that they’re evidently friends. I analyze Ryan’s face, his face, and there isn’t a hint of a smile on it until Spencer reaches out to playfully mess up his hair. And then there’s a mention of “home”, and I’m starting to remember Spencer once, months and months ago, telling me about his roommate. He’d been visibly agitated at the time, and I’d asked about what was bothering him. Spencer had just said that he’d almost punched a customer in the face when he overheard him making fun of his roommate who’d stopped by with his phone. Ryan leaves, and I watch the way he carries himself, his eyes glued to the ground in front of him.
Yes, I’m starting to understand now, and I swallow because the reality of it all is just so sad.
I blink and remember that I’m just standing there by the wall and holding a pair of sticks like an idiot. I toss them back in the bucket and walk briskly over to where Spencer is standing at customer service, the girl behind the counter typing away quickly with a receipt in her hand.
When I approach Spencer, he appears lost in thought, his mind troubled. “Hey, Spence?” I say, and it brings his attention to me.
“Oh, Brendon. You done already?” he asks, confused. Usually, I’m here for at least an hour.
“No,” I say, my voice cracking a little. “I just was wondering about your friend.”
I’m astonished to find Spencer’s face harden at my words. “What about him?” he asks. He sounds protective of Ryan, and I’m beginning to think that it’s an unfortunate necessity.
“I think I know him,” I mumble.
“You think you know Ryan?” he asks, clearly confused but still a bit guarded.
“I just… I think… We were…” I say, struggling to explain. I have no fucking clue what we were. I look away, and when I look back, I’m met with an obviously stunned Spencer. “What?”
“It was you,” he whispers. Before I can fully register what’s happening, he grabs my arm and pulls me towards the back of the store and through a door to where I know the warehouse is. He pushes me down an aisle, and boxes and boxes of guitars surround us.
“What do you mean, it was me?” I ask when we finally stop.
“Ryan’s been hung up on someone since he was in the hospital, someone who didn’t know what he looked like.” I look down to my shoes. “Your eyes and… That was you, wasn’t it?”
“He’s been hung up on me?” I mutter, unable to stop myself.
Spencer’s soft, sad chuckle brings my attention back to him. He puts a hand on my shoulder. “Big time.”
“Do you know what he did to me?” I ask quietly.
His eyes are sad as he nods. “Yes. And he’s so fucking torn up about it.”
“Well, how horrible for him.” The anger is sneaking its way out.
Spencer winces. “You have every right to be angry. He’s convinced you hate him. He’s convinced that he disgusts you.”
“I don’t,” I reply. “And he doesn’t”
His clear blue eyes brighten up just a bit at that. “Then let him know.”
I sit down on the floor in defeat. “How can I when he keeps running from me? I can’t chase him forever.”
Spencer slides down to sit next to me, and our backs lean against a shelf of boxed up Les Pauls. “Forgive me for a minute, Brendon, because, even though Ryan’s older, I’ve spent so many years looking out for him that I can’t help trying to do it now.” He reaches up and tiredly rubs his eyes before continuing.
“Ryan doesn’t have the most normal outlook on life. Too many people have treated him horribly, and now he’s come to expect it. He runs because he’s terrified of getting hurt. Yeah, it still hurt him to run from you, but I think he’d rather have that than to have you outright telling him how disgusting you find him.”
“But I don’t find him disgusting!” I exclaim. “I can’t believe he’d think that I would.”
“Like I said, he just expects it. Years of conditioning and all that. And I don’t know. If you still care about him, Brendon, maybe you should chase him. He’ll want to run, but if he knows you’ll always be right behind him, he’ll stop. But only if you think he’s worth it because he’ll frustrate the hell out of you, for sure.” Spencer pats my knee and smiles softly.
I take a deep breath because that is the question. Is he worth all this trouble? Is he worth all the potential heartache? I stare at my hands resting in my lap, and I can almost feel the weight of another’s hands in mine, and then I know.
I told Ryan once I thought he was an angel. And despite everything, I still believe it. He saved me, and the least I can do is do my best to save him back.
“I need to talk to him,” I find myself saying.
At that, I feel arms around my shoulders as Spencer hugs me. “That can be arranged.”
Author: spazzyskittles/Tiffany
Rating: PG-13
Pairing: Ryan/Brendon, Jon/Spencer
POV: 1st (Ryan's Brendon'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 | 16 | 17 | 18 | 19 | 20 | 16B
Chapter 20B - Brendon (takes place during the first half of Chapter 20)
From outside the store, I can hear someone playing random notes on a keyboard, and when I open the door, the sounds of some metal band playing over the store speakers all but blast me in the face. I haven’t been by for a really long time, but I think my eyesight is good enough to maybe play around on a kit for a bit. At the very least, it might take my mind off him, for a little while.
“Brendon! Long time no see, bro,” comes the voice of Spencer from the drum department. I wave hello to the customer service girl behind the counter as I head past some dude with no rhythm trying out the electric drums near the front.
“Spencer, hey,” I say, giving him a high five/pound it hybrid.
“I’ve missed you, man,” he says, smiling a shiny smile at me that I try to return. “Where’ve you been? And what’s with the shades? Too cool for school, are you?”
“Ha, no,” I say, trying to play it off. I really don’t want to talk about it much. “I just, uh, was in an accident, hurt my eyes. It’s getting better though.”
“Oh man, that sucks,” Spencer says, eyes full of concern and something else I can’t really decipher. Wondering? “You going to be alright? I mean-”
“I’ll be fine,” I tell him, trying to smile. “I just haven’t played anything in a while, and my fingers are itching.” I clench my fingers a little to drive home my point.
“Sure, Brendon. You know where the demo sticks are,” he says, gesturing toward the plastic bucket of beat up drumsticks anyway.
I grab a couple and hop over to the closest kit as I see Spencer check his watch and pick up the phone. Alright, I can do this. When I take a seat, everything feels familiar, natural. Instinctively, I start one of the first beats I’d learned, just to get back into the swing of things. Then I switch it up so that I’m improvising, letting the sticks hit where they must in time.
But despite it all, it’s still not providing enough of a distraction. I’m still thinking about Ryan.
And I’m damn certain it was Ryan. He didn’t say a word, but I’d know the feel of his hands anywhere. I’ve memorized every single inch of them because that was the only thing I had to cling to at that hospital. It was the only thing tethering me to reality, keeping me from slipping and falling. Holding his hand let me know that there was someone there in all that darkness. You can only live inside your head for so long, I’ve found out. And the weight of his hand in mine drew me out, kept me safe, and made me feel alive and human.
Then he was gone, and I thought I’d never be able to feel that again. But I was wrong because I felt it again just last week, and it’s been plaguing me ever since. It threw me off, just as I was beginning to cope.
I hit the snare a little harder than I normally would because I’m starting to get emotional again, and I wail a little on the kit to get my frustration out. After a few seconds, I check myself, adjusting so that I’m playing casually again.
Because you know what gets me? It’s that I don’t even want to think about what he did to me. Instead, I find myself focusing more and more on what could’ve happened to him to make him look as he does. Ryan hadn’t so much as breathed a word about his face, but looking back and remembering our time together, more things are making sense, things that I’d dismissed at the time. Like how uncomfortable he was when I wanted to touch him, and how down he was about himself.
And then there was Jon’s insistence that Ryan had his reasons. I almost want to punch Jon in the face next time I see him for not telling me, but letting me yell at him the other day on the phone gave him a couple of forgiveness points.
There seems to be a lot that I don’t know, a lot that I should know. Who left Ryan that way? Were people horrible to him for it? Does it hurt him? Is that what made him just… hate himself? I just want to know. Even though he’s put me through so much, I can’t help caring. Ryan did have his reasons, and it doesn’t make what he did to me any less shitty. Jon was right about that. But at least I’m starting to understand. I just need to find him so that he can tell me the rest.
Bu-bum chh chh, bu-bum thump crash. My arms are starting to get tired, but it’s a good feeling so I keep going.
My thoughts are a swirl of beats and drums and cymbals with Ryan-Ryan-Ryan mixed in, but it all melts away when I hear Spencer at the front yell out just the name I’ve been focusing on. My arms stop their motions, and I only just stop myself from altogether dropping the drumsticks in my hands when I realize what is happening.
However, I can’t stop myself from getting up from behind the kit and moving slowly closer towards Spencer and Ryan. Neither of them notice me as I witness their exchange, trying to wrap my mind around the fact that they’re evidently friends. I analyze Ryan’s face, his face, and there isn’t a hint of a smile on it until Spencer reaches out to playfully mess up his hair. And then there’s a mention of “home”, and I’m starting to remember Spencer once, months and months ago, telling me about his roommate. He’d been visibly agitated at the time, and I’d asked about what was bothering him. Spencer had just said that he’d almost punched a customer in the face when he overheard him making fun of his roommate who’d stopped by with his phone. Ryan leaves, and I watch the way he carries himself, his eyes glued to the ground in front of him.
Yes, I’m starting to understand now, and I swallow because the reality of it all is just so sad.
I blink and remember that I’m just standing there by the wall and holding a pair of sticks like an idiot. I toss them back in the bucket and walk briskly over to where Spencer is standing at customer service, the girl behind the counter typing away quickly with a receipt in her hand.
When I approach Spencer, he appears lost in thought, his mind troubled. “Hey, Spence?” I say, and it brings his attention to me.
“Oh, Brendon. You done already?” he asks, confused. Usually, I’m here for at least an hour.
“No,” I say, my voice cracking a little. “I just was wondering about your friend.”
I’m astonished to find Spencer’s face harden at my words. “What about him?” he asks. He sounds protective of Ryan, and I’m beginning to think that it’s an unfortunate necessity.
“I think I know him,” I mumble.
“You think you know Ryan?” he asks, clearly confused but still a bit guarded.
“I just… I think… We were…” I say, struggling to explain. I have no fucking clue what we were. I look away, and when I look back, I’m met with an obviously stunned Spencer. “What?”
“It was you,” he whispers. Before I can fully register what’s happening, he grabs my arm and pulls me towards the back of the store and through a door to where I know the warehouse is. He pushes me down an aisle, and boxes and boxes of guitars surround us.
“What do you mean, it was me?” I ask when we finally stop.
“Ryan’s been hung up on someone since he was in the hospital, someone who didn’t know what he looked like.” I look down to my shoes. “Your eyes and… That was you, wasn’t it?”
“He’s been hung up on me?” I mutter, unable to stop myself.
Spencer’s soft, sad chuckle brings my attention back to him. He puts a hand on my shoulder. “Big time.”
“Do you know what he did to me?” I ask quietly.
His eyes are sad as he nods. “Yes. And he’s so fucking torn up about it.”
“Well, how horrible for him.” The anger is sneaking its way out.
Spencer winces. “You have every right to be angry. He’s convinced you hate him. He’s convinced that he disgusts you.”
“I don’t,” I reply. “And he doesn’t”
His clear blue eyes brighten up just a bit at that. “Then let him know.”
I sit down on the floor in defeat. “How can I when he keeps running from me? I can’t chase him forever.”
Spencer slides down to sit next to me, and our backs lean against a shelf of boxed up Les Pauls. “Forgive me for a minute, Brendon, because, even though Ryan’s older, I’ve spent so many years looking out for him that I can’t help trying to do it now.” He reaches up and tiredly rubs his eyes before continuing.
“Ryan doesn’t have the most normal outlook on life. Too many people have treated him horribly, and now he’s come to expect it. He runs because he’s terrified of getting hurt. Yeah, it still hurt him to run from you, but I think he’d rather have that than to have you outright telling him how disgusting you find him.”
“But I don’t find him disgusting!” I exclaim. “I can’t believe he’d think that I would.”
“Like I said, he just expects it. Years of conditioning and all that. And I don’t know. If you still care about him, Brendon, maybe you should chase him. He’ll want to run, but if he knows you’ll always be right behind him, he’ll stop. But only if you think he’s worth it because he’ll frustrate the hell out of you, for sure.” Spencer pats my knee and smiles softly.
I take a deep breath because that is the question. Is he worth all this trouble? Is he worth all the potential heartache? I stare at my hands resting in my lap, and I can almost feel the weight of another’s hands in mine, and then I know.
I told Ryan once I thought he was an angel. And despite everything, I still believe it. He saved me, and the least I can do is do my best to save him back.
“I need to talk to him,” I find myself saying.
At that, I feel arms around my shoulders as Spencer hugs me. “That can be arranged.”