Capital Letters Make Things More Official [s/a]
Title: Capital Letters Make Things More Official
Author: Nish stayxwithxme394
Rating: PG-13
Pairing: Ryden, bit of Joncer
POV: Third
Word Count ~7800
Summary: Carnival AU. *shrugs* Don't know what else to say...
Warnings Swearing, depression, fluff >.<
Disclaimer: Not mine, never were :(
Author Notes: Thanks again to my love Jess-pop. This was my attempt at an epic standalone, but it's not quite that epic, so I call it the Epic-But-Not-So-Epic Standalone ^_^ Enjooooooooooooooyyyyyyyyyyyyyyy.
The day Brendon Urie first saw him was just a normal day. It wasn’t a time-stopping moment when they locked eyes and just knew. In fact, it was quite the opposite. He would’ve missed the boy, if he hadn’t bumped into him and knocked his notebook straight out of his hands. And, with true Brendon Urie luck, it landed right in the middle of a muddy puddle. Open.
Brendon wasn’t unused to things like this happening. Most of the people at the carnival knew how clumsy he was at the best of times, so didn’t hold any accidents or injuries against him. Except he’d never seen this boy before, and had the overwhelming urge to salvage what he could from this awful first impression. He bent down to pick up the book at the same time as the mystery boy and, in true clichéd romance movie style, met hands over the book. See, now Brendon had watched enough romance movies in his nineteen short years to know that this is usually the point where the two people look up and share an embarrassed smile.
Usually.
What did in fact happen, was the boy slapped his hand out of the way (a little harder than necessary in Brendon’s opinion), grabbed the notebook and marched away getting easily lost in the crowd.
So of course Brendon sat and obsessed over Mystery Man, as Jon so helpfully named him (“with capital m’s to make it more official sounding!”), completely ignoring all of his customers and forcing Jon to take his shift.
Jon and Brendon were as close to best friends as anyone could get working in a carnival. It was something of a running joke slash carnival enigma that as soon as two people stopped being separate beings and morphed into a single unit, one of them would either be fired, or sent to work at a different carnival. So, Jon and Brendon both agreed that they would be close friends but make sure that they never became JonandBrendon (or BrendonandJon as Brendon was adamant that they would be called, because he always comes first, duh).
“Hey, B, did you hear that there are two newbies joining today?” Jon asked, as he sat down on the small chair just behind the counter of their snack food stall. When Brendon didn’t respond and continued to sit curled up in the corner, Jon got up from his seat and went to crouch down in front of his younger, close-but-not-quite-best friend. After living with him constantly for close to two years now, Jon knew how to get the boy out of this head, so he clicked his fingers repeatedly in front of his face.
“I can’t click my fingers,” was the usual answer to Jon doing this, but this time all he got was a grunt of acknowledgement.
“Brendon? Are you okay? What’s wrong? Talk to me Brendon! What happened?” he started to panic, grabbing Brendon’s shoulders and shaking him violently. Brendon never grunted. Jon vaguely recalled a conversation where Brendon had claimed that ‘grunting was a barbaric and disgusting noise, unless it’s used in hot, wild sex and should be banned from public use!’.
“Jon, get the hell off me you crazy bastard!” Brendon yelled when trying to pry Jon’s fingers off his arms didn’t work. Jon just sighed in relief and pulled Brendon into one of his famous (or so he’d been told) hugs. He didn’t give them often, just in situations that called for it, so Brendon was a bit shocked. When he let go of the smaller boy, Brendon looked at him, a bit dazed.
“Is everything alright, B?”
“Yeah,” Brendon replied slowly, as if talking to a five year old, “why wouldn’t it be?”
Jon blushed and mumbled, “You didn’t say that you can’t click your fingers.”
Luckily, Brendon understood the logic behind this statement and leaned over to give Jon a hug, saying, “Sorry. Just thinking about something.” Jon snorted and Brendon slapped him on the head, pulling back to pout at him.
“Don’t you pout at me, Boyd!” Jon smiled, waggling his finger and causing Brendon to grimace at the use of his middle name. Who would call their child Boyd, seriously? “What were you thinking about, anyway?” he asked seriously.
“Just… Argh. This is going to sound so stupid. I bumped into this guy and his notebook kinda landed in a muddy puddle. So I went to pick it up, right? But he just slapped my hand away, grabbed it and stormed off. I don’t think I’ve seen him before either,” he finished thoughtfully.
“Maybe he’s one of the newbies!” At Brendon’s questioning look, he continued, “If you had been listening to be before,” Jon aimed an evil glare towards the smaller boy. Unfortunately, Jon’s evil glares really aren’t that scary and merely caused Brendon to start giggling, “you would’ve heard me tell you that there are two new people who’ve joined. I guess we’ll probably see them at dinner.”
.
Later that night, at the Carnie’s Dinner (again, one of Jon’s genius capital-letter-names) Brendon couldn’t stop fidgeting, which wasn’t unusual, but as he passed up ice cream for dessert Jon started to worry. The younger boy was constantly looking around from his usual seat next to Jon, trying to find any new faces that he didn’t know the names of. Eventually (bear in mind, this is Brendon’s version of eventually, which lasts a whole half an hour) he gave up and slumped down in his seat, letting his head rest on Jon’s shoulder as he talked to The Boss Man (that one’s Brendon’s), or better known as Andy Hurley.
Andy’s a genuinely nice guy; he takes the time to talk to and get to know each of the Carnies. He has an approachable air about him, even if his tattoos do scream ‘touch me and I’ll beat the living shit out of you’ to Brendon. Jon and Andy are pretty close, as close as they can be without becoming JonandAndy, seeing as Jon’s been part of the carnival for about five years. Brendon asked him once if he gets bored of it, but only got a pat on the shoulder and a knowing smile as a response. A year later, he still hasn’t got a proper answer from him. He’s still waiting for one.
Most of the Carnies think of Andy as the only Boss Man, but unfortunately this is not so. There is one other Boss Man that goes by the name of Pete Wentz. He… isn’t such a nice guy. None of the Carnies have spoken more than a sentence to him, god forbid informally address him. Pete prefers (read: demands) to be called ‘sir’ or ‘Mr Wentz’ and seeing as he’s the money behind the whole thing, everybody complies. Apart from Andy, that is, because without Andy, there wouldn’t be any acts. Andy’s the face, Pete’s the brains.
Brendon zoned out of their conversation, not really paying attention as his eyes scanned the long tables for the Mystery Man. ‘Maybe he was just a visitor or something,’ Brendon thought, but then reminded himself that he bumped into him behind one of the tents where the public aren’t allowed.
“So what’s the deal with these newbies, Andy? Couldn’t even be bothered to tell me about it?” Brendon’s ears perked up when Jon asked this, lifting his head off Jon’s shoulder to look at Andy expectantly.
“Sorry, man, but we weren’t sure if they were even going to join for a while. One of them is really quiet and seemed a bit hesitant,” Andy paused, looking around to make sure that nobody was eavesdropping, “Okay, don’t tell anyone before Pete makes the announcement tomorrow, otherwise he’ll have my balls,” he paused again, waiting for the two boys’ nods, and continued, “The shy one’s called Ryan and he’s a contortionist. Seriously, man. I’ve never seen someone do some of the tricks that kid can do, and I’ve seen my fair share of them. The other one’s called Spencer and he’s a fire-breather. Don’t know how he does it, really, with the beard and everything. I’m surprised he hasn’t singed it off.”
“A fire-breather with a beard?” Jon queried, looking genuinely confused, scratching his own stubble unconsciously.
“I know. I didn’t believe him when he told me that’s what he does. But he’s fucking amazing, Jon! You should see him!” Ignoring Jon’s frantic movements to get him to stop talking, Andy carried on, saying, “He’s like you were back in the day!”
“What?!” Brendon yelled, causing a few people to look around at him. Mostly everybody continued chatting and eating amongst themselves, too used to Brendon’s outbursts to pay him any heed. “You used to be a fire-breather and you never told me? Jon, what the hell?” Brendon screeched and slapped Jon on the arm. ‘For such a skinny boy, he can slap hard.’ Jon thought absently, while trying to come up with any excuse that would get him out of trouble. Instead what came out was, “We’re so much like a married couple, it’s scary.” Which wasn’t the best idea he’s ever had, he admits to himself and ultimately causes Brendon to stomp off in a huff.
“Wow. Way to go there, Jon. Now your wife’s gone and gotten all pissy,” Andy remarked amusedly watching a particularly spectacular exist from Drama-Queen Extraordinaire (funnily enough, Brendon came up with that one).
“I’m not the wife, bitch!” could just be heard above the general murmur of the dining tent before Brendon attempted to slam shut the tent flap. Obviously that failed miserably making Brendon even angrier.
“Wow. You’re gonna be sleeping on the couch tonight, man!”
.
After a day’s worth of silent treatment (in Brendon terms, that’s about 3 hours) Brendon decided that it wasn’t worth it and jumped on Jon’s back, proclaiming that a piggy-back around the carnival would make up for it. Yes, Brendon used the word ‘it’. In all truthfulness, he couldn’t remember what he was angry at Jon about and decided that ‘forget and forgive’ was more fitting than ‘forgive and forget’. For him, anyway.
Jon didn’t argue. He made his way around the carnival, weaving around people, constantly making sure that Brendon was secure (he didn’t need him falling on his head after all; the kid barely made sense as it was). After ten minutes and three circuits of the whole carnival grounds, Jon’s back started to hurt. He was about to put Brendon down when he heard a high-pitched excited squeal and felt Brendon’s hands gripping his hair extra tight. He winced and turned around, ready to tell the younger boy off for ‘abusing his position’ knowing it would make them both burst into immature giggles. Instead he followed Brendon’s gaze and saw who he could only assume was Mystery Man.
“Follow him, follow him, follow him!” Brendon bounced, kicking Jon’s sides.
“I’m not a damn horse, Brendon!”
“Just follow him!” Brendon replied tugging hard on Jon’s hair. Jon complied, but not without his fair share of grumbling and followed Mystery Man. Just from his back he could tell Jon could tell he was going to be Brendon’s type. Brendon was usually attracted to the polar opposite of himself and this guy looked exactly that. He was immaculately dressed, especially for a Carnie, in pinstriped slacks, a shirt and a red waistcoat, a hat finishing off the look. Most people dressed that way were wary of the dirt but he just walked straight through any puddles as if his trousers weren’t getting completely ruined by the mud.
They caught up with Mystery Man after a few minutes, his long legs carrying him faster than Jon could with Brendon on his back, but they had an advantage; they knew the carnival inside out.
“Hey! Wait up a sec,” Jon called out, getting sick of just following the stranger around. Mystery Man’s back stiffened and he stilled, hugging himself tighter before turning around to face the pair. He looked at Jon blankly, his honey-coloured eyes analysing whether it was worth talking to him or not. As his gaze moved towards Brendon still clutching Jon’s hair, his eyes narrowed. After sending Brendon what can only be described as a death glare, he spun around sharply, storming off towards the tent that the Acts got ready in.
“Wow, man. If looks could kill…” Jon trailed off, sure that even Brendon couldn’t mistake the look of pure loathing sent his way.
However, Brendon was frozen in shock. Mystery Man was gorgeous. Not in a manly way either. He was girl pretty. His mop of brown was hair styled messily but carefully around his face, making his huge caramel eyes stand out even more. His intricate make up only served to make him look even prettier.
“I’m in love,” Brendon sighed, as he slipped off Jon’s back, completely ignoring his look of utter bewilderment and staring wistfully after Mystery Man.
.
The next night at Carnie’s Dinner, Brendon couldn’t stop fidgeting to the point that the whole bench started shaking. He’d been excited all day, commenting to any customers that there were going to be new additions to the carnival. Only a handful had humoured him, most had grunted in response to his rambling (causing Brendon to momentarily stop and cringe, but carry on again after a second’s pause) and snatched their food from his hands, getting away as quickly as possible. Some even waited until Jon was manning the till to get their food so they wouldn’t have to deal with Brendon’s overzealous chattering.
“Brendon Boyd Urie, will you calm the hell down?” Jon hissed at him when Pete looked over disapprovingly, “You’re going to get yourself fired!” Brendon immediately stopped.
“Right, ladies and gentlemen! I have an announcement for you all today!” Andy started standing near the entrance to the tent next to Pete. At Pete’s cough, he hastily corrected, “I mean… We have an announcement for you all today! We’re introducing two new members into the family!” he said excitedly, expecting an equally excited murmur to pass around the tent. All he was met with, however, was silence. At his apparent confusion, a tall, skinny man, who Brendon recognised as William, spoke up.
“We already know. Urie’s been telling anyone who will listen.”
‘Oh, shit.’ Brendon thought as both Pete’s and Andy’s gazes landed on him, both with a hint of ‘why-do-we-put-up-with-him’, but that was mainly Pete’s. Andy’s was more amused than anything at the flaming red blush that now adorned Brendon’s cheeks. But William didn’t stop there, he carried on to say,
“He’s also been saying that the skinny one’s pretty.” Jon snorted halfway through his sip of water and got an uncomfortable nose-full of water. He calmed down to see that Brendon had slumped down so far in his seat; his hair was only partially visible above the table.
“Thanks, Bill,” he called.
“No problem,” William called back, looking as if it was causing him physical pain not to burst into hysterical laughter right there.
“Bill wants into Gabe’s pants, just so you know.” Brendon yelled from where he was now sitting underneath the table. William’s expression immediately sobered and he decided that his shoes were the most interesting things in the room.
“Okay… I think that’s enough information shared for tonight…” Andy cleared his throat, continuing with his speech, “As I was saying! Two new members! Let me introduce to you Ryan and Spencer!” he finished with a flourish of his hand, presenting the two young men that had walked through the tent flap. There was a round of applause and some wolf-whistling much to the two boys’ embarrassment. ‘As if getting called pretty by that… imbecile wasn’t enough,’ Ryan thought to himself as he smiled politely to the tent at large.
.
For the next couple of weeks, the only way to find Brendon was to find Ryan. The younger boy was always found lurking around behind the contortionist, much to his annoyance. He was at every show and always found an excuse to be in the changing area at the same time Ryan was. Brendon was absolutely fixated with the beautiful enigma that was Ryan Ross. After 12 consecutive days (yes, he’d been counting) of Brendon’s constant- for lack of a better word- stalking, Ryan had had enough. After his show, he was wiping off his performance make up when he caught a glance of the annoying bespectacled boy in the reflection of his mirror.
He sighed to himself, slumping further down in his seat in a vain attempt at hiding from Brendon, but what was the use? He saw Brendon’s eyes light up as they caught his through the reflection, and sighed again. Turning around slowly, he called out to the boy.
“Brendon, can I have a word with you?” he said tiredly, rubbing his eyes with a thumb and forefinger. This was going to involve a lot of screaming and bitching if he’d picked up anything about this boy in the past two weeks. The smile that spread across Brendon’s face at finally being talked to, instead of ignored by Ryan almost made the performer feel guilty. Almost.
“Listen, Bradley, right?” Ryan knew his name, but it was easier to pretend that he didn’t. He didn’t want to admit, even to himself, that he had been noticing Brendon recently. The endearing little habits, they way he just did things often had Ryan entranced.
Brendon hesitated. He was sure Ryan had known his name and being called Bradley had kind of thrown him. “Erm. No… actually it-it’s Brendon,” he replied even though he was pretty sure Ryan didn’t actually care. That thought stung a little more than it should have after two weeks of knowing each other which consisted of practically no communication.
“Right, yeah. Whatever. Anyway, listen Benny. I’m not going to pretend I understand what the point of you following me around for the past two weeks has been, but it’s getting fucking annoying, okay? What you were trying to achieve is beyond me because believe me, stalker is not a quality I, or pretty much any other sane human being finds attractive. I don’t know whether you were working up the nerve to ask me out or what, because it’s blatantly obvious that you think I’m… pretty,” Ryan spat the last word, his face making it seem as if the word left a bad taste in his mouth, “But I’m just going to put you out of your misery, right now. I don’t like you. I don’t find you attractive. And I would never go out on a date with you even if you hadn’t knocked my notebook out of my hand the very first time we encountered each other, because you are an annoying, insufferable, immature little brat. So, please. Please, please, please, leave me alone.” He finished his little speech, holding Brendon’s gaze throughout, and sat down, fighting the urge to smile smugly at the wetness appearing in Brendon’s eyes.
If only Ryan had realised that Brendon’s heart was breaking right there in front of him. Brendon had never felt something this strong for anyone, ever. Especially without even talking to them properly. He didn’t even feel that strongly for Jon and they were almost JonandBrendon! A quiet, apologetic rejection he could have handled, but having such spiteful, nasty words thrown at him for merely showing an interest, hurt. The fact that he had just been publicly humiliated just added insult to injury. He could feel the pained tears prick at his eyes, but ran away to save himself more embarrassment; he could see the glee in Ryan’s eyes.
He ran straight to his and Jon’s caravan, banging on the door wildly - his vision was too blurred for him to even attempt to unlock it himself. When the door didn’t open immediately, he started screaming, hitting the door with his curled up fist. He needed to get inside now. After a couple of minutes he gave up and slumped down with his back against the door, letting the tears flow. He’d just had his heart broken, he was allowed this one moment of weakness.
It started to rain heavily, a storm that had been brewing for two weeks finally breaking and spilling onto the dry Nevada desert, tears mixing with rain. As he sat there, curled in on himself, he thought bitterly, ‘how’s that for pathetic fallacy?’
.
Jon meanwhile had bumped into Spencer, the new fire-breather, after locking up for the night. The two had ended up talking and Jon had spent the evening sharing some of his stories from ‘back in the day’. He’d quickly learnt that Spencer was quite an opinionated guy (his main opinion being, ‘I’m right, you’re wrong, deal with it’, unless proven otherwise) and could out-bitch anyone. The bitchy little costume designer who made even Pete cower in a corner, had nothing on him. All in all, Jon had had one of the best evenings in a long time that didn’t involve Brendon.
Later that night he and Spencer trudged through the newly formed sludge towards the ‘Walker-Urie residence for some hot cocoa’ (at Spencer’s raised eyebrow Jon replied that Brendon plus caffeine equals disaster). The conversation flowed easily between the two of them and both felt as if they’d known each other for years longer than they had. As Jon’s eyes rose to his and Brendon’s caravan, he tensed. Spencer, already being able to sense the change in his new friend’s demeanour, asked if everything was alright, completely bewildered.
That was until he saw the pitiful form of a boy curled up, soaking wet outside the door to a caravan. Watching Jon run towards him, Spencer safely concluded that it was, in fact, Brendon sitting outside on the muddy ground. The care that Jon handled him with, as he cautiously picked up the soaking wet bundle, made something in Spencer’s stomach tighten almost painfully. ‘He’s a good friend. Add that to the list of Amazing Qualities of Jon Walker,’ he thought, vaguely wondering when he formed such a list. When the image of Brendon flashed across Spencer’s mind, he snapped out of his daze and quickly followed Jon into the caravan, hoping to help any way he could.
Weak and pathetic as Brendon seemed on the floor, he was putting up a mighty fight when he caught sight of Spencer; fidgeting restlessly and slapping Jon’s hands away from him murmuring something about broken hearts and pathetic fallacy and not wanting to be around somebody that associated themselves with him.
Spencer had no idea what the boy was on.
The murmurs got louder and more forceful, especially when Spencer tried to help calm him, until eventually he gathered enough energy to scream, “Get out! Go to your piece of shit friend! I don’t want your fucking help!” collapsing exhausted against the seat, visibly drained from the effort of talking in full sentences. Both Spencer and Jon froze, immediately understanding that Brendon was talking about Ryan; they’d spent a good hour discussing the two and Brendon’s obvious infatuation. Withdrawing their hands from trying to help Brendon, the two men quietly shared a look before walking to the caravan door. Jon mumbled an apology, saying that he’d see Spencer tomorrow, before shutting the door and turning back to his almost-but-not-quite best friend, who was still lying motionless.
“Oh, Brendon, what kind of mess have you gotten yourself into now?” Jon questioned quietly, helping a (finally) compliant Brendon out of his sopping clothes and into warm dry pyjamas, tucking him into his bunk. He sat stroking through the younger boy’s hair until he was sure he was sound asleep.
.
“Hey, Spence. Where’ve you been?” Ryan set down his book and greeted Spencer as he quietly entered their caravan, “I was starting to think some carnie kidnapped you,” he joked from his position on the couch. When Spencer didn’t respond and just continued to look anywhere but at him while shuffling around to make himself coffee, Ryan figured something was wrong.
He got up, moving towards Spencer and taking a hold of his arm, noticing that he still wouldn’t meet his eyes, “Hey, you’d tell me if something happen-”
“What did you do?” Spencer quietly interrupted him.
“What? Nothing. Spencer, I don’t understand. If something happened to you, you have to tell me!” Ryan replied, confused and starting to panic.
“What did you do?” the younger man repeated, finally meeting Ryan’s gaze. Ryan had to take a step back when he saw the anger raging in his best friend’s usually calm blue eyes.
“Wha - I don’t… Spence-”
“What the fuck is wrong with you, Ryan? I don’t know - or care - what you said to him, but you broke his fucking heart. You broke him. I… I never thought I would say this to anyone let alone you. But you, Ryan Ross, are a twisted human being,” at Ryan’s incredulous look (which was tinged with recognition, Spencer noted), he continued, laughing slightly at Ryan’s idiocy, “You don’t even realise, do you? These past two weeks all you have talked about is ‘Brendon, Brendon, Brendon. Oh, Brendon did that yesterday. Brendon did this today.’ You don’t even realise. But you’ve fucked it up already, so I guess it doesn’t matter.” With that Spencer turned on his heel and stormed out of the caravan, slamming the door on his way out just to make more impact. Ryan just stood there, completely shocked to find that Spencer was right.
‘Great. Now where the hell am I going to sleep? I should’ve kicked him out, the stupid ass.’ Lost in his own thoughts, Spencer unconsciously made his way towards Jon and Brendon’s caravan, knocking on the door without realising it. He was startled when someone opened the door; almost shrieking and falling over. Jon stood there looking thoroughly worn out, but amused at Spencer’s antics. Spencer’s heart swelled; he’d made Jon smile. He added Jon’s Smile to the list of Amazing Qualities of Jon Walker and decided that that was his new life mission; to make Jon Walker smile. ‘Oh dear, now I’m thinking in clichés. Wonderful.’
Remembering that he’d turned up on Jon’s doorstep in the middle of the night, he asked awkwardly, “Is it… Is it okay if I stay here tonight?” At Jon’s confused look he said quietly (this was not his proudest moment, by far), “I kind of… yelled at Ryan and called him twisted.” He determinedly did not look away from his shoes, moving them around in the sludge that had formed after the rain had stopped.
“Oh, God. Yeah… come in,” Jon said, feeling a twinge of guilt that Brendon had managed to cause a rift between what he could already tell were two very close friends. They were the definition of Best Friends (yes, they deserved capitals. Jon’s heart clenched as he thought about his and Brendon’s game, knowing they weren’t going to be playing it again any time soon).
“You… you can take the top bunk and I’ll just… sleep on the sofa.”
”What? No! I’m not kicking you out of your own bed! It’s my fault I yelled at Ryan and exiled myself from my own caravan! I’ll sleep on the sofa,” Spencer insisted, complete with flailing hand gestures.
Jon snorted, saying, “You just managed to get the word exiled into conversation as if it was nothing.” Spencer only shook his head at Jon’s immaturity, desperately trying to ignore how his heart swelled again at the older man’s smile.
“Well, welcome to the Walker-Urie residence, then. I was hoping it’d be a happy occasion when you’d stay the night, but…” Jon trailed off, his eyes widened when he realised what he’d said.
“‘When’, huh?” Spencer asked, a smirk tugging at his lips. A whimper and shuffling came from behind Jon and their moment broke, both men remembering why they were in this situation in the first place.
.
None of the boys could concentrate properly for the next week. Brendon hadn’t so much as moved from his bunk and Spencer and Jon were starting to worry. He slept for 20 hours out of the day and usually woke at obscure hours of the morning to stare into space for the remaining four. He hadn’t eaten or showered or changed clothes and was starting to grow visible stubble for the first time (much to the initial amusement of Jon). Jon took it upon himself to try to coax the boy into at least eating something, but Brendon never met his eyes and ignored him.
It was day eight of Brendon’s depression and he had been asleep for 36 hours straight. To say Jon was worried was an understatement and the stress of the situation was starting to show. Jon’s stubble had grown into a beard and he hadn’t slept, keeping a vigil over Brendon at all hours, making his eyes bloodshot and tired-looking. On top of this, Pete had made it very clear that his and Brendon’s snack food stall was not to be closed under any circumstances, regardless of the fact that Brendon was ill (Jon and Spencer had tell a white lie to excuse Brendon’s disappearance and a broken heart was not a valid excuse in Mr Wentz’s eyes).
Spencer wasn’t doing much better. He was so distracted by avoiding Ryan (it was proving a lot harder than he initially thought - he keeps on forgetting that they’re not talking and has to catch himself before he does) and being worried about Jon and mostly fearing for the life (he was allowed to be dramatic, he decided after three days) of Brendon that he’d ended up burning himself on multiple occasions. Andy had to take him aside and warn him that if it happened again and he scarred another young child, he’d be forced to remove Spencer from the carnival.
Ryan was sure something inside him was broken and prodding painfully at his heart every time he breathed. His best friend was ignoring him, he’d royally fucked up with Brendon (who he’d only just realised he had a massive crush on) and because of that Jon, who seemed to be a genuinely lovely guy, hated his guts. How he manages to get himself into these things still baffles him. ‘Damn me and my fucking big mouth!’ he thought bitterly to himself. He’d tried talking to Spencer a couple days after The Incident, when he’d realised how badly he’d screwed up, and that hadn’t gone so well. Well… by ‘hadn’t gone so well’ he meant that Spencer had completely ignored his existence and only responded when he’d mentioned Brendon. And by ‘responded’ he meant that Spencer had damn near bitten his head off.
After that Ryan had resigned himself to the fact that it was going to take time for them to forgive him. Immediately after he had that thought, he told himself ‘Fuck it. They won’t forgive me if I don’t apologise. I need to find Brendon.’ He spent so much time thinking about it, he’d managed to almost dislocate his shoulder in the middle of a performance causing both Pete and Andy to corner him and give him a serious talking to.
It proved a harder feat than he’d thought, apologising to Brendon. Mainly because he was too chicken shit to ask Spencer or Jon, seeing the reaction he got last time, and ended up waiting for five days before doing anything. Maybe he’d just go and knock on the caravan door. Deciding that sounded like a good idea, he headed out and after an hour of aimless wandering, realised that he had no clue where Jon and Brendon’s caravan was. He sat down cross-legged outside a random caravan, staring at the door. After a few minutes he heard a rustling coming from inside and broke out of his thoughts to see Jon standing in the doorway.
“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” Jon snapped at him.
“I-I…” Ryan started, wondering how to put his thoughts into words, “I need to apologise, Jon… I need to.”
Jon, sensing the desperation in the boy’s voice and seeing him sitting there so defeated, gave in and beckoned Ryan inside. He showed him Brendon’s bunk and warned him sternly, “If you say anything to make this worse…” he trailed off thinking ‘How could this get worse?’ When an image of Brendon doing something drastic like committing suicide flashed across his mind, he had to grab onto the counter to keep from collapsing. Maybe this wasn’t such a good idea. But he’d let Ryan in, so he thought he might as well let him do his piece. He sent another glare Ryan’s way before turning around and rushing off to open his stall. ‘If this doesn’t get better soon, I think I might just give up and leave’ he thought, immediately disregarding it. He loved the carnival too much to leave because of heartbreak.
Ryan crept forward, slightly afraid of what he might see. When he caught sight of the pale, thin body lying in the bed, he gasped. Brendon looked so much like a corpse, it was frightening. ‘And I did that to him,’ he realised. He knelt down beside the bed, and took hold of Brendon’s hands, stroking his thumb over the protruding knuckles. Even his hands were a ghostly white.
“Oh, God. Brendon. I am so sorry. I didn’t think you’d care so much. I just…” Ryan trailed off not knowing what he thought, let alone what to say to the sleeping body. His eyes looked sunken and his cheeks were gaunt, all of the life and fullness gone. His lips, those gorgeous full lips that Ryan had caught himself admiring, were now pale and chapped. ‘I wonder if I kiss him, he’ll wake up… like sleeping beauty’ Ryan thought. He shrugged, figuring, ‘what the hell might as well try it’.
With his free hand, he stoked Brendon’s cheek, feeling how cold the skin was. He traced his fingers from his cheek, up through his limp, thinning hair, stroking it out of his face.
“What have I done to you, Brendon?” he asked quietly, leaning closer while one hand stroked through Brendon’s hair and the other over his knuckles. “I’m so sorry,” he whispered before closing the gap between them and pressing his lips to Brendon’s chapped ones. He stayed like that for a minute, not feeling any response from the younger boy. He pulled away and sat back on his heels gazing at Brendon’s pale face.
For half an hour, Ryan sat like that, just gazing at the face that he’d grown used to and fond of. It pained him to see Brendon so… dead; he was usually so full of life. After an hour, his back started to ache, but he didn’t move. Another hour later, Ryan realised his cheeks were wet; he’d been crying. ‘I’ve killed him’ constantly repeating itself in his mind. He choked back sobs, whimpering quietly while still stroking Brendon’s knuckles and playing with his hair.
“I’m so sorry,” he repeated for the hundredth time, leaning forwards again to press his lips to Brendon’s softly. Just as he was about to pull away, Ryan felt the slightest response from Brendon, his lips pressing back slightly. He jerked back, opening his eyes and asking quietly, “Brendon? Are you awake?” He got a groan in response and slowly big brown eyes fluttered open, confused and unfocussed.
Before Brendon could say anything or get mad at him, he launched into his apology, “I’m sorry. I am truly, truly sorry for putting you through this. I was an ass. And for what? A notebook? I’m totally ashamed of myself. Just… I’m sorry. I wanted to let you know before you kick me out, so… I’ll go now, because you probably don’t want to see me. Erm…” he finished lamely. Brendon’s grip on his hand tightened as he tried to pull away and he snapped his eyes up to see a half-smile gracing the younger boy’s face. It made him seem so much more alive. “Please don’t stop smiling. It’s scary seeing you not smile.” Ryan’s eyes widened when he realised he’d said that out loud. “I’m sorry, that was out of line. I’m sorry. Really, really sorry. I’m such an idiot!”
“Ryan,” Brendon’s voice was so hoarse, it surprised even himself, “stop rambling, please.” He tugged on Ryan’s hand indicating for him to get up and rolled on his side, facing away from the older boy murmuring something about sleep. Ryan felt a little bit put-out; he’d apologised and Brendon hadn’t yelled at him, but now he had turned his back on him.
“Erm… I’ll just go then…” he trailed off awkwardly feeling stupid for thinking that Brendon would forgive him that easily. Brendon rolled over slowly, blinking owlishly, obviously unused to the sensation, and questioned,
“Why? Don’t you want to sleep?”
“Oh, yeah. Um. Okay, I’ll just get into Jon’s bunk then…” Brendon made a short snort of laughter, making the pain in Ryan’s chest diminish greatly to just a dull throb.
“No, you idiot. I want to sleep, right here, in my bed… with you,” he said the last two words quietly, blushing slightly but keeping his eyes locked on Ryan’s. If he’d gotten this wrong he’d be absolutely mortified, but he was sure he felt Ryan kiss him awake.
“Oh,” Ryan said, “O-okay then.” Brendon rolled back over with his back to Ryan once again and Ryan slid into the bed with him after kicking his shoes off into a corner. Ryan wrapped his arm securely around Brendon’s tiny waist, mentally noting that he needed to get Brendon to eat something and soon. Nuzzling his face into Brendon’s neck, he inhaled deeply, feeling himself relax as he let the breath out.
Jon came back after he had closed his stall to find Ryan and Brendon spooned together on the tiny bunk bed. In all honesty, he’d never seen anything cuter. That night, although Jon was still wary of Ryan, he managed to sleep peacefully in his bunk.
.
Brendon had woken up at 3 am, unable to sleep any more even if he was extremely comfortable. He spent the time until Ryan woke up thinking about what the boy holding him had said the day before; wondering if he was being truthful. He knew what Ryan had said over a week ago shouldn’t have affected him so much, but he’d fallen hard. Another ridiculous thing with Brendon was that he fell hard and fast. He’d been hurt because of it before and he couldn’t help thinking that Ryan wouldn’t be the same as all those other boys. Even if he knew next to nothing about the contortionist, there was something about him that set Brendon at ease and made him feel safe.
Unbeknownst to Brendon, Ryan had never fallen asleep. He spent the whole night memorising the way it felt to hold Brendon while he slept, the adorable little noises he made and the way he pulled Ryan’s arm tighter around him instinctively every half an hour or so. This had never happened to Ryan before. He could feel himself falling in love with Brendon and seeing him so fragile made him want to protect him from the world.
“I think I’m falling in love with you, Brendon,” Ryan whispered into the silent caravan, “which is ridiculous because I know nothing about you. But… I think I am. And I’m scared, Brendon. This is the most cliché thing ever, me confessing my love for you while you’re asleep. I’m a fucking poet for god’s sake, I should be able to do better than this!” he berated himself in a loud whisper, unconsciously tightening his grip on Brendon. The smaller boy shifted and Ryan froze. ‘Oh God… please don’t be awake, please.’
“You’re a poet?” Brendon murmured quietly, turning to face Ryan making sure that the contortionist’s muscled arm was still wrapped about his waist. Finding a comfortable position on his pillow, he looked into Ryan’s large honey-coloured eyes.
Ryan coughed, “Erm… yeah. Well, I like to write poetry. They’re kind of more like lyrics to me though, because I think them up with music. That’s um…”
“What?” Brendon prompted when he realised Ryan wasn’t going to finish the sentence by himself.
“Erm… well, that’s what is in my notebook,” he confessed, blushing. At least Brendon didn’t know about the pages and pages of lyrics about him that had graced the most recent pages of it. “That’s why I got mad when you knocked into the puddle. I mean, it’s my passion, you know? And nobody else has ever touched that notebook.”
“Not even Spencer?” the younger boy queried. Ryan shook his head, no. “Whoa. I’m sor-”
“Don’t apologise. You have no reason to. I should be apologising. Look what I did to you!” Ryan interrupted, placing his finger over Brendon’s lips and moving his other hand to press into the boy’s jutting hipbone firmly.
And so began Ryan and Brendon’s four hour heart-to-heart (which Jon was secretly eavesdropping on, but he didn’t dare let himself be known… he didn’t want to get killed for goodness sake!).
.
Jon woke up at close to midday, cursing loudly when he saw the time. Pete was going to neuter him! (Then how would things work with Spencer… wait, what?) Jon tried to shake the craziness out of his head as he fumbled with his clothes, tripping over multiple times and almost knocking himself out on the kitchen counter.
“Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuckity fuckfuckfuck!” he mumbled to himself, looking for Pete at every corner. When he reached his and Brendon’s stall, he was shocked to see a queue leading up to the open counter. “What the hell is going on?”
“You know, talking to yourself is the first sign of madness, Walker,” Pete pops up beside him, causing Jon to jump back and clutch his chest.
“Jesus fuck, Pe- Er… Mr Wentz!” Jon quickly corrects seeing the glare forming on his boss’s face.
“Your friend doesn’t seem to be very ill, Walker.”
“I guess he just recovered quickly?” Jon replied. He didn’t want to get Brendon into trouble, but he wasn’t functioning well enough to make up a proper excuse after waking up just 5 minutes ago. Luckily Pete bought it and wondered off to do whatever it is that he did in his spare time; probably count money, knowing him.
Jon cautiously made it over to the stall, not knowing what to expect; the last time he saw Brendon, he was still deathly pale and frighteningly thin. At first he only saw the back of the person manning the till. Jon couldn’t quite put a finger on who it was and started to panic. He carried on creeping into the stall and quickly spotted a frail-looking Brendon sitting on the chair watching the person contentedly.
“Bren…” Jon started, instantly catching the young boy’s attention. A smile broke across his face at the sight of this not-quite-best-friend and he started to get up from the chair, but was coaxed back down straight away by the stranger, who Jon now recognised as Ryan.
“Bren, what’re you doing? I told you, you shouldn’t be moving around too much! You’re still too weak!” Ryan cried, ignoring the customer he was still holding the order of. He heard a cough behind him and turned around to see Jon, “Oh… Go on then, I know you want to,” he conceded finally handing the customer their order, much to their relief. Brendon got up from his seat shakily and Jon rushed towards him, catching him in a hug before he could fall over.
“Oh, God. Brendon! You’re alright!” Jon sighed into Brendon’s hair, holding him closer but at the same time, making sure not to squash the fragile teenager. “Don’t you dare go doing something like that again, you hear me? You had me so scared!” Jon berated, pulling away slightly to look at the younger boy carefully.
“I promise, Jon,” Brendon said with a smile, looking over at Ryan while still leaning on Jon to keep himself upright.
“You’re too cute, you know that?” Jon asked, wrapping his arms around Brendon to make sure that he didn’t slip, knowing that the younger boy would fall without his support. Brendon hummed contentedly, leaning his head against Jon’s shoulder and watching Ryan fret about the stall. “Why didn’t you wake me up this morning? You know you didn’t have to man the stall, I could’ve done it,” Jon asked Ryan when there were no customers to serve and Ryan was sitting holding Brendon close on his lap. Ryan shrugged.
“We figured you could use the rest. Spencer came by at seven and when we got talking, he mentioned that you hadn’t been sleeping since…” Ryan trailed off, ashamed that he had caused his, dare he say it, boyfriend’s depression. Brendon, sensing this, rested his hand atop Ryan’s on his bony hip and pressed a chaste kiss to his lips trying to reassure him that he didn’t blame him any more. Jon marvelled at how well they functioned as a couple already; he wanted something like that.
“Talking of Spencer! What’s going on with you two? I’ve heard you’ve been talking a lot recently,” Brendon smirked at Jon, and for a second Jon forgot that anything was wrong; he looked so much like he did Before (Jon came up with that one on his own) with that cheeky look on his face. He almost forgot to feel scared, but then he remembered that Brendon hadn’t changed so much that that look didn’t mean trouble any more.
“Don’t even think about it, Urie!”
“Think about what, Jonathan?” Brendon blinked innocently back at him, a sparkle of mischief present in his eyes. Jon groaned; Brendon had a plan and not even a divine intervention could save him from the chaos it would undoubtedly cause. Knowing he had won, Brendon bounced happily on Ryan’s lap, earning an ‘oi, mind your elbows’ look from Ryan.
.
The chaos that ensued after Brendon’s plan had been set into motion was nothing short of… well, chaotic. The whole thing had been blocked from every Carnie’s mind; it was easier that way.
But the times after The Chaos, as Ryan so aptly named it, were some of the best in all four of the young men’s lives. Now, over a year later, Jon and Spencer were still going strong, and Ryan was contemplating performing one of the songs he had written about Brendon on the anniversary of The Incident. Ryan had refused to forget about it, no matter how much Brendon begged him to do so, claiming that it never let him forget that he almost lost the Love Of His Life (BrendonandRyan (yes, BrendonandRyan. Brendon almost started bouncing off the walls when Jon said this) had come up with that together one night). Brendon always melted by this point in Ryan’s speech and ended up kissing his Boyfriend (capital letters make things more official, after all) fiercely, as if reminding him that he was still there, Ryan didn’t lose him.
Author: Nish stayxwithxme394
Rating: PG-13
Pairing: Ryden, bit of Joncer
POV: Third
Word Count ~7800
Summary: Carnival AU. *shrugs* Don't know what else to say...
Warnings Swearing, depression, fluff >.<
Disclaimer: Not mine, never were :(
Author Notes: Thanks again to my love Jess-pop. This was my attempt at an epic standalone, but it's not quite that epic, so I call it the Epic-But-Not-So-Epic Standalone ^_^ Enjooooooooooooooyyyyyyyyyyyyyyy.
The day Brendon Urie first saw him was just a normal day. It wasn’t a time-stopping moment when they locked eyes and just knew. In fact, it was quite the opposite. He would’ve missed the boy, if he hadn’t bumped into him and knocked his notebook straight out of his hands. And, with true Brendon Urie luck, it landed right in the middle of a muddy puddle. Open.
Brendon wasn’t unused to things like this happening. Most of the people at the carnival knew how clumsy he was at the best of times, so didn’t hold any accidents or injuries against him. Except he’d never seen this boy before, and had the overwhelming urge to salvage what he could from this awful first impression. He bent down to pick up the book at the same time as the mystery boy and, in true clichéd romance movie style, met hands over the book. See, now Brendon had watched enough romance movies in his nineteen short years to know that this is usually the point where the two people look up and share an embarrassed smile.
Usually.
What did in fact happen, was the boy slapped his hand out of the way (a little harder than necessary in Brendon’s opinion), grabbed the notebook and marched away getting easily lost in the crowd.
So of course Brendon sat and obsessed over Mystery Man, as Jon so helpfully named him (“with capital m’s to make it more official sounding!”), completely ignoring all of his customers and forcing Jon to take his shift.
Jon and Brendon were as close to best friends as anyone could get working in a carnival. It was something of a running joke slash carnival enigma that as soon as two people stopped being separate beings and morphed into a single unit, one of them would either be fired, or sent to work at a different carnival. So, Jon and Brendon both agreed that they would be close friends but make sure that they never became JonandBrendon (or BrendonandJon as Brendon was adamant that they would be called, because he always comes first, duh).
“Hey, B, did you hear that there are two newbies joining today?” Jon asked, as he sat down on the small chair just behind the counter of their snack food stall. When Brendon didn’t respond and continued to sit curled up in the corner, Jon got up from his seat and went to crouch down in front of his younger, close-but-not-quite-best friend. After living with him constantly for close to two years now, Jon knew how to get the boy out of this head, so he clicked his fingers repeatedly in front of his face.
“I can’t click my fingers,” was the usual answer to Jon doing this, but this time all he got was a grunt of acknowledgement.
“Brendon? Are you okay? What’s wrong? Talk to me Brendon! What happened?” he started to panic, grabbing Brendon’s shoulders and shaking him violently. Brendon never grunted. Jon vaguely recalled a conversation where Brendon had claimed that ‘grunting was a barbaric and disgusting noise, unless it’s used in hot, wild sex and should be banned from public use!’.
“Jon, get the hell off me you crazy bastard!” Brendon yelled when trying to pry Jon’s fingers off his arms didn’t work. Jon just sighed in relief and pulled Brendon into one of his famous (or so he’d been told) hugs. He didn’t give them often, just in situations that called for it, so Brendon was a bit shocked. When he let go of the smaller boy, Brendon looked at him, a bit dazed.
“Is everything alright, B?”
“Yeah,” Brendon replied slowly, as if talking to a five year old, “why wouldn’t it be?”
Jon blushed and mumbled, “You didn’t say that you can’t click your fingers.”
Luckily, Brendon understood the logic behind this statement and leaned over to give Jon a hug, saying, “Sorry. Just thinking about something.” Jon snorted and Brendon slapped him on the head, pulling back to pout at him.
“Don’t you pout at me, Boyd!” Jon smiled, waggling his finger and causing Brendon to grimace at the use of his middle name. Who would call their child Boyd, seriously? “What were you thinking about, anyway?” he asked seriously.
“Just… Argh. This is going to sound so stupid. I bumped into this guy and his notebook kinda landed in a muddy puddle. So I went to pick it up, right? But he just slapped my hand away, grabbed it and stormed off. I don’t think I’ve seen him before either,” he finished thoughtfully.
“Maybe he’s one of the newbies!” At Brendon’s questioning look, he continued, “If you had been listening to be before,” Jon aimed an evil glare towards the smaller boy. Unfortunately, Jon’s evil glares really aren’t that scary and merely caused Brendon to start giggling, “you would’ve heard me tell you that there are two new people who’ve joined. I guess we’ll probably see them at dinner.”
.
Later that night, at the Carnie’s Dinner (again, one of Jon’s genius capital-letter-names) Brendon couldn’t stop fidgeting, which wasn’t unusual, but as he passed up ice cream for dessert Jon started to worry. The younger boy was constantly looking around from his usual seat next to Jon, trying to find any new faces that he didn’t know the names of. Eventually (bear in mind, this is Brendon’s version of eventually, which lasts a whole half an hour) he gave up and slumped down in his seat, letting his head rest on Jon’s shoulder as he talked to The Boss Man (that one’s Brendon’s), or better known as Andy Hurley.
Andy’s a genuinely nice guy; he takes the time to talk to and get to know each of the Carnies. He has an approachable air about him, even if his tattoos do scream ‘touch me and I’ll beat the living shit out of you’ to Brendon. Jon and Andy are pretty close, as close as they can be without becoming JonandAndy, seeing as Jon’s been part of the carnival for about five years. Brendon asked him once if he gets bored of it, but only got a pat on the shoulder and a knowing smile as a response. A year later, he still hasn’t got a proper answer from him. He’s still waiting for one.
Most of the Carnies think of Andy as the only Boss Man, but unfortunately this is not so. There is one other Boss Man that goes by the name of Pete Wentz. He… isn’t such a nice guy. None of the Carnies have spoken more than a sentence to him, god forbid informally address him. Pete prefers (read: demands) to be called ‘sir’ or ‘Mr Wentz’ and seeing as he’s the money behind the whole thing, everybody complies. Apart from Andy, that is, because without Andy, there wouldn’t be any acts. Andy’s the face, Pete’s the brains.
Brendon zoned out of their conversation, not really paying attention as his eyes scanned the long tables for the Mystery Man. ‘Maybe he was just a visitor or something,’ Brendon thought, but then reminded himself that he bumped into him behind one of the tents where the public aren’t allowed.
“So what’s the deal with these newbies, Andy? Couldn’t even be bothered to tell me about it?” Brendon’s ears perked up when Jon asked this, lifting his head off Jon’s shoulder to look at Andy expectantly.
“Sorry, man, but we weren’t sure if they were even going to join for a while. One of them is really quiet and seemed a bit hesitant,” Andy paused, looking around to make sure that nobody was eavesdropping, “Okay, don’t tell anyone before Pete makes the announcement tomorrow, otherwise he’ll have my balls,” he paused again, waiting for the two boys’ nods, and continued, “The shy one’s called Ryan and he’s a contortionist. Seriously, man. I’ve never seen someone do some of the tricks that kid can do, and I’ve seen my fair share of them. The other one’s called Spencer and he’s a fire-breather. Don’t know how he does it, really, with the beard and everything. I’m surprised he hasn’t singed it off.”
“A fire-breather with a beard?” Jon queried, looking genuinely confused, scratching his own stubble unconsciously.
“I know. I didn’t believe him when he told me that’s what he does. But he’s fucking amazing, Jon! You should see him!” Ignoring Jon’s frantic movements to get him to stop talking, Andy carried on, saying, “He’s like you were back in the day!”
“What?!” Brendon yelled, causing a few people to look around at him. Mostly everybody continued chatting and eating amongst themselves, too used to Brendon’s outbursts to pay him any heed. “You used to be a fire-breather and you never told me? Jon, what the hell?” Brendon screeched and slapped Jon on the arm. ‘For such a skinny boy, he can slap hard.’ Jon thought absently, while trying to come up with any excuse that would get him out of trouble. Instead what came out was, “We’re so much like a married couple, it’s scary.” Which wasn’t the best idea he’s ever had, he admits to himself and ultimately causes Brendon to stomp off in a huff.
“Wow. Way to go there, Jon. Now your wife’s gone and gotten all pissy,” Andy remarked amusedly watching a particularly spectacular exist from Drama-Queen Extraordinaire (funnily enough, Brendon came up with that one).
“I’m not the wife, bitch!” could just be heard above the general murmur of the dining tent before Brendon attempted to slam shut the tent flap. Obviously that failed miserably making Brendon even angrier.
“Wow. You’re gonna be sleeping on the couch tonight, man!”
.
After a day’s worth of silent treatment (in Brendon terms, that’s about 3 hours) Brendon decided that it wasn’t worth it and jumped on Jon’s back, proclaiming that a piggy-back around the carnival would make up for it. Yes, Brendon used the word ‘it’. In all truthfulness, he couldn’t remember what he was angry at Jon about and decided that ‘forget and forgive’ was more fitting than ‘forgive and forget’. For him, anyway.
Jon didn’t argue. He made his way around the carnival, weaving around people, constantly making sure that Brendon was secure (he didn’t need him falling on his head after all; the kid barely made sense as it was). After ten minutes and three circuits of the whole carnival grounds, Jon’s back started to hurt. He was about to put Brendon down when he heard a high-pitched excited squeal and felt Brendon’s hands gripping his hair extra tight. He winced and turned around, ready to tell the younger boy off for ‘abusing his position’ knowing it would make them both burst into immature giggles. Instead he followed Brendon’s gaze and saw who he could only assume was Mystery Man.
“Follow him, follow him, follow him!” Brendon bounced, kicking Jon’s sides.
“I’m not a damn horse, Brendon!”
“Just follow him!” Brendon replied tugging hard on Jon’s hair. Jon complied, but not without his fair share of grumbling and followed Mystery Man. Just from his back he could tell Jon could tell he was going to be Brendon’s type. Brendon was usually attracted to the polar opposite of himself and this guy looked exactly that. He was immaculately dressed, especially for a Carnie, in pinstriped slacks, a shirt and a red waistcoat, a hat finishing off the look. Most people dressed that way were wary of the dirt but he just walked straight through any puddles as if his trousers weren’t getting completely ruined by the mud.
They caught up with Mystery Man after a few minutes, his long legs carrying him faster than Jon could with Brendon on his back, but they had an advantage; they knew the carnival inside out.
“Hey! Wait up a sec,” Jon called out, getting sick of just following the stranger around. Mystery Man’s back stiffened and he stilled, hugging himself tighter before turning around to face the pair. He looked at Jon blankly, his honey-coloured eyes analysing whether it was worth talking to him or not. As his gaze moved towards Brendon still clutching Jon’s hair, his eyes narrowed. After sending Brendon what can only be described as a death glare, he spun around sharply, storming off towards the tent that the Acts got ready in.
“Wow, man. If looks could kill…” Jon trailed off, sure that even Brendon couldn’t mistake the look of pure loathing sent his way.
However, Brendon was frozen in shock. Mystery Man was gorgeous. Not in a manly way either. He was girl pretty. His mop of brown was hair styled messily but carefully around his face, making his huge caramel eyes stand out even more. His intricate make up only served to make him look even prettier.
“I’m in love,” Brendon sighed, as he slipped off Jon’s back, completely ignoring his look of utter bewilderment and staring wistfully after Mystery Man.
.
The next night at Carnie’s Dinner, Brendon couldn’t stop fidgeting to the point that the whole bench started shaking. He’d been excited all day, commenting to any customers that there were going to be new additions to the carnival. Only a handful had humoured him, most had grunted in response to his rambling (causing Brendon to momentarily stop and cringe, but carry on again after a second’s pause) and snatched their food from his hands, getting away as quickly as possible. Some even waited until Jon was manning the till to get their food so they wouldn’t have to deal with Brendon’s overzealous chattering.
“Brendon Boyd Urie, will you calm the hell down?” Jon hissed at him when Pete looked over disapprovingly, “You’re going to get yourself fired!” Brendon immediately stopped.
“Right, ladies and gentlemen! I have an announcement for you all today!” Andy started standing near the entrance to the tent next to Pete. At Pete’s cough, he hastily corrected, “I mean… We have an announcement for you all today! We’re introducing two new members into the family!” he said excitedly, expecting an equally excited murmur to pass around the tent. All he was met with, however, was silence. At his apparent confusion, a tall, skinny man, who Brendon recognised as William, spoke up.
“We already know. Urie’s been telling anyone who will listen.”
‘Oh, shit.’ Brendon thought as both Pete’s and Andy’s gazes landed on him, both with a hint of ‘why-do-we-put-up-with-him’, but that was mainly Pete’s. Andy’s was more amused than anything at the flaming red blush that now adorned Brendon’s cheeks. But William didn’t stop there, he carried on to say,
“He’s also been saying that the skinny one’s pretty.” Jon snorted halfway through his sip of water and got an uncomfortable nose-full of water. He calmed down to see that Brendon had slumped down so far in his seat; his hair was only partially visible above the table.
“Thanks, Bill,” he called.
“No problem,” William called back, looking as if it was causing him physical pain not to burst into hysterical laughter right there.
“Bill wants into Gabe’s pants, just so you know.” Brendon yelled from where he was now sitting underneath the table. William’s expression immediately sobered and he decided that his shoes were the most interesting things in the room.
“Okay… I think that’s enough information shared for tonight…” Andy cleared his throat, continuing with his speech, “As I was saying! Two new members! Let me introduce to you Ryan and Spencer!” he finished with a flourish of his hand, presenting the two young men that had walked through the tent flap. There was a round of applause and some wolf-whistling much to the two boys’ embarrassment. ‘As if getting called pretty by that… imbecile wasn’t enough,’ Ryan thought to himself as he smiled politely to the tent at large.
.
For the next couple of weeks, the only way to find Brendon was to find Ryan. The younger boy was always found lurking around behind the contortionist, much to his annoyance. He was at every show and always found an excuse to be in the changing area at the same time Ryan was. Brendon was absolutely fixated with the beautiful enigma that was Ryan Ross. After 12 consecutive days (yes, he’d been counting) of Brendon’s constant- for lack of a better word- stalking, Ryan had had enough. After his show, he was wiping off his performance make up when he caught a glance of the annoying bespectacled boy in the reflection of his mirror.
He sighed to himself, slumping further down in his seat in a vain attempt at hiding from Brendon, but what was the use? He saw Brendon’s eyes light up as they caught his through the reflection, and sighed again. Turning around slowly, he called out to the boy.
“Brendon, can I have a word with you?” he said tiredly, rubbing his eyes with a thumb and forefinger. This was going to involve a lot of screaming and bitching if he’d picked up anything about this boy in the past two weeks. The smile that spread across Brendon’s face at finally being talked to, instead of ignored by Ryan almost made the performer feel guilty. Almost.
“Listen, Bradley, right?” Ryan knew his name, but it was easier to pretend that he didn’t. He didn’t want to admit, even to himself, that he had been noticing Brendon recently. The endearing little habits, they way he just did things often had Ryan entranced.
Brendon hesitated. He was sure Ryan had known his name and being called Bradley had kind of thrown him. “Erm. No… actually it-it’s Brendon,” he replied even though he was pretty sure Ryan didn’t actually care. That thought stung a little more than it should have after two weeks of knowing each other which consisted of practically no communication.
“Right, yeah. Whatever. Anyway, listen Benny. I’m not going to pretend I understand what the point of you following me around for the past two weeks has been, but it’s getting fucking annoying, okay? What you were trying to achieve is beyond me because believe me, stalker is not a quality I, or pretty much any other sane human being finds attractive. I don’t know whether you were working up the nerve to ask me out or what, because it’s blatantly obvious that you think I’m… pretty,” Ryan spat the last word, his face making it seem as if the word left a bad taste in his mouth, “But I’m just going to put you out of your misery, right now. I don’t like you. I don’t find you attractive. And I would never go out on a date with you even if you hadn’t knocked my notebook out of my hand the very first time we encountered each other, because you are an annoying, insufferable, immature little brat. So, please. Please, please, please, leave me alone.” He finished his little speech, holding Brendon’s gaze throughout, and sat down, fighting the urge to smile smugly at the wetness appearing in Brendon’s eyes.
If only Ryan had realised that Brendon’s heart was breaking right there in front of him. Brendon had never felt something this strong for anyone, ever. Especially without even talking to them properly. He didn’t even feel that strongly for Jon and they were almost JonandBrendon! A quiet, apologetic rejection he could have handled, but having such spiteful, nasty words thrown at him for merely showing an interest, hurt. The fact that he had just been publicly humiliated just added insult to injury. He could feel the pained tears prick at his eyes, but ran away to save himself more embarrassment; he could see the glee in Ryan’s eyes.
He ran straight to his and Jon’s caravan, banging on the door wildly - his vision was too blurred for him to even attempt to unlock it himself. When the door didn’t open immediately, he started screaming, hitting the door with his curled up fist. He needed to get inside now. After a couple of minutes he gave up and slumped down with his back against the door, letting the tears flow. He’d just had his heart broken, he was allowed this one moment of weakness.
It started to rain heavily, a storm that had been brewing for two weeks finally breaking and spilling onto the dry Nevada desert, tears mixing with rain. As he sat there, curled in on himself, he thought bitterly, ‘how’s that for pathetic fallacy?’
.
Jon meanwhile had bumped into Spencer, the new fire-breather, after locking up for the night. The two had ended up talking and Jon had spent the evening sharing some of his stories from ‘back in the day’. He’d quickly learnt that Spencer was quite an opinionated guy (his main opinion being, ‘I’m right, you’re wrong, deal with it’, unless proven otherwise) and could out-bitch anyone. The bitchy little costume designer who made even Pete cower in a corner, had nothing on him. All in all, Jon had had one of the best evenings in a long time that didn’t involve Brendon.
Later that night he and Spencer trudged through the newly formed sludge towards the ‘Walker-Urie residence for some hot cocoa’ (at Spencer’s raised eyebrow Jon replied that Brendon plus caffeine equals disaster). The conversation flowed easily between the two of them and both felt as if they’d known each other for years longer than they had. As Jon’s eyes rose to his and Brendon’s caravan, he tensed. Spencer, already being able to sense the change in his new friend’s demeanour, asked if everything was alright, completely bewildered.
That was until he saw the pitiful form of a boy curled up, soaking wet outside the door to a caravan. Watching Jon run towards him, Spencer safely concluded that it was, in fact, Brendon sitting outside on the muddy ground. The care that Jon handled him with, as he cautiously picked up the soaking wet bundle, made something in Spencer’s stomach tighten almost painfully. ‘He’s a good friend. Add that to the list of Amazing Qualities of Jon Walker,’ he thought, vaguely wondering when he formed such a list. When the image of Brendon flashed across Spencer’s mind, he snapped out of his daze and quickly followed Jon into the caravan, hoping to help any way he could.
Weak and pathetic as Brendon seemed on the floor, he was putting up a mighty fight when he caught sight of Spencer; fidgeting restlessly and slapping Jon’s hands away from him murmuring something about broken hearts and pathetic fallacy and not wanting to be around somebody that associated themselves with him.
Spencer had no idea what the boy was on.
The murmurs got louder and more forceful, especially when Spencer tried to help calm him, until eventually he gathered enough energy to scream, “Get out! Go to your piece of shit friend! I don’t want your fucking help!” collapsing exhausted against the seat, visibly drained from the effort of talking in full sentences. Both Spencer and Jon froze, immediately understanding that Brendon was talking about Ryan; they’d spent a good hour discussing the two and Brendon’s obvious infatuation. Withdrawing their hands from trying to help Brendon, the two men quietly shared a look before walking to the caravan door. Jon mumbled an apology, saying that he’d see Spencer tomorrow, before shutting the door and turning back to his almost-but-not-quite best friend, who was still lying motionless.
“Oh, Brendon, what kind of mess have you gotten yourself into now?” Jon questioned quietly, helping a (finally) compliant Brendon out of his sopping clothes and into warm dry pyjamas, tucking him into his bunk. He sat stroking through the younger boy’s hair until he was sure he was sound asleep.
.
“Hey, Spence. Where’ve you been?” Ryan set down his book and greeted Spencer as he quietly entered their caravan, “I was starting to think some carnie kidnapped you,” he joked from his position on the couch. When Spencer didn’t respond and just continued to look anywhere but at him while shuffling around to make himself coffee, Ryan figured something was wrong.
He got up, moving towards Spencer and taking a hold of his arm, noticing that he still wouldn’t meet his eyes, “Hey, you’d tell me if something happen-”
“What did you do?” Spencer quietly interrupted him.
“What? Nothing. Spencer, I don’t understand. If something happened to you, you have to tell me!” Ryan replied, confused and starting to panic.
“What did you do?” the younger man repeated, finally meeting Ryan’s gaze. Ryan had to take a step back when he saw the anger raging in his best friend’s usually calm blue eyes.
“Wha - I don’t… Spence-”
“What the fuck is wrong with you, Ryan? I don’t know - or care - what you said to him, but you broke his fucking heart. You broke him. I… I never thought I would say this to anyone let alone you. But you, Ryan Ross, are a twisted human being,” at Ryan’s incredulous look (which was tinged with recognition, Spencer noted), he continued, laughing slightly at Ryan’s idiocy, “You don’t even realise, do you? These past two weeks all you have talked about is ‘Brendon, Brendon, Brendon. Oh, Brendon did that yesterday. Brendon did this today.’ You don’t even realise. But you’ve fucked it up already, so I guess it doesn’t matter.” With that Spencer turned on his heel and stormed out of the caravan, slamming the door on his way out just to make more impact. Ryan just stood there, completely shocked to find that Spencer was right.
‘Great. Now where the hell am I going to sleep? I should’ve kicked him out, the stupid ass.’ Lost in his own thoughts, Spencer unconsciously made his way towards Jon and Brendon’s caravan, knocking on the door without realising it. He was startled when someone opened the door; almost shrieking and falling over. Jon stood there looking thoroughly worn out, but amused at Spencer’s antics. Spencer’s heart swelled; he’d made Jon smile. He added Jon’s Smile to the list of Amazing Qualities of Jon Walker and decided that that was his new life mission; to make Jon Walker smile. ‘Oh dear, now I’m thinking in clichés. Wonderful.’
Remembering that he’d turned up on Jon’s doorstep in the middle of the night, he asked awkwardly, “Is it… Is it okay if I stay here tonight?” At Jon’s confused look he said quietly (this was not his proudest moment, by far), “I kind of… yelled at Ryan and called him twisted.” He determinedly did not look away from his shoes, moving them around in the sludge that had formed after the rain had stopped.
“Oh, God. Yeah… come in,” Jon said, feeling a twinge of guilt that Brendon had managed to cause a rift between what he could already tell were two very close friends. They were the definition of Best Friends (yes, they deserved capitals. Jon’s heart clenched as he thought about his and Brendon’s game, knowing they weren’t going to be playing it again any time soon).
“You… you can take the top bunk and I’ll just… sleep on the sofa.”
”What? No! I’m not kicking you out of your own bed! It’s my fault I yelled at Ryan and exiled myself from my own caravan! I’ll sleep on the sofa,” Spencer insisted, complete with flailing hand gestures.
Jon snorted, saying, “You just managed to get the word exiled into conversation as if it was nothing.” Spencer only shook his head at Jon’s immaturity, desperately trying to ignore how his heart swelled again at the older man’s smile.
“Well, welcome to the Walker-Urie residence, then. I was hoping it’d be a happy occasion when you’d stay the night, but…” Jon trailed off, his eyes widened when he realised what he’d said.
“‘When’, huh?” Spencer asked, a smirk tugging at his lips. A whimper and shuffling came from behind Jon and their moment broke, both men remembering why they were in this situation in the first place.
.
None of the boys could concentrate properly for the next week. Brendon hadn’t so much as moved from his bunk and Spencer and Jon were starting to worry. He slept for 20 hours out of the day and usually woke at obscure hours of the morning to stare into space for the remaining four. He hadn’t eaten or showered or changed clothes and was starting to grow visible stubble for the first time (much to the initial amusement of Jon). Jon took it upon himself to try to coax the boy into at least eating something, but Brendon never met his eyes and ignored him.
It was day eight of Brendon’s depression and he had been asleep for 36 hours straight. To say Jon was worried was an understatement and the stress of the situation was starting to show. Jon’s stubble had grown into a beard and he hadn’t slept, keeping a vigil over Brendon at all hours, making his eyes bloodshot and tired-looking. On top of this, Pete had made it very clear that his and Brendon’s snack food stall was not to be closed under any circumstances, regardless of the fact that Brendon was ill (Jon and Spencer had tell a white lie to excuse Brendon’s disappearance and a broken heart was not a valid excuse in Mr Wentz’s eyes).
Spencer wasn’t doing much better. He was so distracted by avoiding Ryan (it was proving a lot harder than he initially thought - he keeps on forgetting that they’re not talking and has to catch himself before he does) and being worried about Jon and mostly fearing for the life (he was allowed to be dramatic, he decided after three days) of Brendon that he’d ended up burning himself on multiple occasions. Andy had to take him aside and warn him that if it happened again and he scarred another young child, he’d be forced to remove Spencer from the carnival.
Ryan was sure something inside him was broken and prodding painfully at his heart every time he breathed. His best friend was ignoring him, he’d royally fucked up with Brendon (who he’d only just realised he had a massive crush on) and because of that Jon, who seemed to be a genuinely lovely guy, hated his guts. How he manages to get himself into these things still baffles him. ‘Damn me and my fucking big mouth!’ he thought bitterly to himself. He’d tried talking to Spencer a couple days after The Incident, when he’d realised how badly he’d screwed up, and that hadn’t gone so well. Well… by ‘hadn’t gone so well’ he meant that Spencer had completely ignored his existence and only responded when he’d mentioned Brendon. And by ‘responded’ he meant that Spencer had damn near bitten his head off.
After that Ryan had resigned himself to the fact that it was going to take time for them to forgive him. Immediately after he had that thought, he told himself ‘Fuck it. They won’t forgive me if I don’t apologise. I need to find Brendon.’ He spent so much time thinking about it, he’d managed to almost dislocate his shoulder in the middle of a performance causing both Pete and Andy to corner him and give him a serious talking to.
It proved a harder feat than he’d thought, apologising to Brendon. Mainly because he was too chicken shit to ask Spencer or Jon, seeing the reaction he got last time, and ended up waiting for five days before doing anything. Maybe he’d just go and knock on the caravan door. Deciding that sounded like a good idea, he headed out and after an hour of aimless wandering, realised that he had no clue where Jon and Brendon’s caravan was. He sat down cross-legged outside a random caravan, staring at the door. After a few minutes he heard a rustling coming from inside and broke out of his thoughts to see Jon standing in the doorway.
“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” Jon snapped at him.
“I-I…” Ryan started, wondering how to put his thoughts into words, “I need to apologise, Jon… I need to.”
Jon, sensing the desperation in the boy’s voice and seeing him sitting there so defeated, gave in and beckoned Ryan inside. He showed him Brendon’s bunk and warned him sternly, “If you say anything to make this worse…” he trailed off thinking ‘How could this get worse?’ When an image of Brendon doing something drastic like committing suicide flashed across his mind, he had to grab onto the counter to keep from collapsing. Maybe this wasn’t such a good idea. But he’d let Ryan in, so he thought he might as well let him do his piece. He sent another glare Ryan’s way before turning around and rushing off to open his stall. ‘If this doesn’t get better soon, I think I might just give up and leave’ he thought, immediately disregarding it. He loved the carnival too much to leave because of heartbreak.
Ryan crept forward, slightly afraid of what he might see. When he caught sight of the pale, thin body lying in the bed, he gasped. Brendon looked so much like a corpse, it was frightening. ‘And I did that to him,’ he realised. He knelt down beside the bed, and took hold of Brendon’s hands, stroking his thumb over the protruding knuckles. Even his hands were a ghostly white.
“Oh, God. Brendon. I am so sorry. I didn’t think you’d care so much. I just…” Ryan trailed off not knowing what he thought, let alone what to say to the sleeping body. His eyes looked sunken and his cheeks were gaunt, all of the life and fullness gone. His lips, those gorgeous full lips that Ryan had caught himself admiring, were now pale and chapped. ‘I wonder if I kiss him, he’ll wake up… like sleeping beauty’ Ryan thought. He shrugged, figuring, ‘what the hell might as well try it’.
With his free hand, he stoked Brendon’s cheek, feeling how cold the skin was. He traced his fingers from his cheek, up through his limp, thinning hair, stroking it out of his face.
“What have I done to you, Brendon?” he asked quietly, leaning closer while one hand stroked through Brendon’s hair and the other over his knuckles. “I’m so sorry,” he whispered before closing the gap between them and pressing his lips to Brendon’s chapped ones. He stayed like that for a minute, not feeling any response from the younger boy. He pulled away and sat back on his heels gazing at Brendon’s pale face.
For half an hour, Ryan sat like that, just gazing at the face that he’d grown used to and fond of. It pained him to see Brendon so… dead; he was usually so full of life. After an hour, his back started to ache, but he didn’t move. Another hour later, Ryan realised his cheeks were wet; he’d been crying. ‘I’ve killed him’ constantly repeating itself in his mind. He choked back sobs, whimpering quietly while still stroking Brendon’s knuckles and playing with his hair.
“I’m so sorry,” he repeated for the hundredth time, leaning forwards again to press his lips to Brendon’s softly. Just as he was about to pull away, Ryan felt the slightest response from Brendon, his lips pressing back slightly. He jerked back, opening his eyes and asking quietly, “Brendon? Are you awake?” He got a groan in response and slowly big brown eyes fluttered open, confused and unfocussed.
Before Brendon could say anything or get mad at him, he launched into his apology, “I’m sorry. I am truly, truly sorry for putting you through this. I was an ass. And for what? A notebook? I’m totally ashamed of myself. Just… I’m sorry. I wanted to let you know before you kick me out, so… I’ll go now, because you probably don’t want to see me. Erm…” he finished lamely. Brendon’s grip on his hand tightened as he tried to pull away and he snapped his eyes up to see a half-smile gracing the younger boy’s face. It made him seem so much more alive. “Please don’t stop smiling. It’s scary seeing you not smile.” Ryan’s eyes widened when he realised he’d said that out loud. “I’m sorry, that was out of line. I’m sorry. Really, really sorry. I’m such an idiot!”
“Ryan,” Brendon’s voice was so hoarse, it surprised even himself, “stop rambling, please.” He tugged on Ryan’s hand indicating for him to get up and rolled on his side, facing away from the older boy murmuring something about sleep. Ryan felt a little bit put-out; he’d apologised and Brendon hadn’t yelled at him, but now he had turned his back on him.
“Erm… I’ll just go then…” he trailed off awkwardly feeling stupid for thinking that Brendon would forgive him that easily. Brendon rolled over slowly, blinking owlishly, obviously unused to the sensation, and questioned,
“Why? Don’t you want to sleep?”
“Oh, yeah. Um. Okay, I’ll just get into Jon’s bunk then…” Brendon made a short snort of laughter, making the pain in Ryan’s chest diminish greatly to just a dull throb.
“No, you idiot. I want to sleep, right here, in my bed… with you,” he said the last two words quietly, blushing slightly but keeping his eyes locked on Ryan’s. If he’d gotten this wrong he’d be absolutely mortified, but he was sure he felt Ryan kiss him awake.
“Oh,” Ryan said, “O-okay then.” Brendon rolled back over with his back to Ryan once again and Ryan slid into the bed with him after kicking his shoes off into a corner. Ryan wrapped his arm securely around Brendon’s tiny waist, mentally noting that he needed to get Brendon to eat something and soon. Nuzzling his face into Brendon’s neck, he inhaled deeply, feeling himself relax as he let the breath out.
Jon came back after he had closed his stall to find Ryan and Brendon spooned together on the tiny bunk bed. In all honesty, he’d never seen anything cuter. That night, although Jon was still wary of Ryan, he managed to sleep peacefully in his bunk.
.
Brendon had woken up at 3 am, unable to sleep any more even if he was extremely comfortable. He spent the time until Ryan woke up thinking about what the boy holding him had said the day before; wondering if he was being truthful. He knew what Ryan had said over a week ago shouldn’t have affected him so much, but he’d fallen hard. Another ridiculous thing with Brendon was that he fell hard and fast. He’d been hurt because of it before and he couldn’t help thinking that Ryan wouldn’t be the same as all those other boys. Even if he knew next to nothing about the contortionist, there was something about him that set Brendon at ease and made him feel safe.
Unbeknownst to Brendon, Ryan had never fallen asleep. He spent the whole night memorising the way it felt to hold Brendon while he slept, the adorable little noises he made and the way he pulled Ryan’s arm tighter around him instinctively every half an hour or so. This had never happened to Ryan before. He could feel himself falling in love with Brendon and seeing him so fragile made him want to protect him from the world.
“I think I’m falling in love with you, Brendon,” Ryan whispered into the silent caravan, “which is ridiculous because I know nothing about you. But… I think I am. And I’m scared, Brendon. This is the most cliché thing ever, me confessing my love for you while you’re asleep. I’m a fucking poet for god’s sake, I should be able to do better than this!” he berated himself in a loud whisper, unconsciously tightening his grip on Brendon. The smaller boy shifted and Ryan froze. ‘Oh God… please don’t be awake, please.’
“You’re a poet?” Brendon murmured quietly, turning to face Ryan making sure that the contortionist’s muscled arm was still wrapped about his waist. Finding a comfortable position on his pillow, he looked into Ryan’s large honey-coloured eyes.
Ryan coughed, “Erm… yeah. Well, I like to write poetry. They’re kind of more like lyrics to me though, because I think them up with music. That’s um…”
“What?” Brendon prompted when he realised Ryan wasn’t going to finish the sentence by himself.
“Erm… well, that’s what is in my notebook,” he confessed, blushing. At least Brendon didn’t know about the pages and pages of lyrics about him that had graced the most recent pages of it. “That’s why I got mad when you knocked into the puddle. I mean, it’s my passion, you know? And nobody else has ever touched that notebook.”
“Not even Spencer?” the younger boy queried. Ryan shook his head, no. “Whoa. I’m sor-”
“Don’t apologise. You have no reason to. I should be apologising. Look what I did to you!” Ryan interrupted, placing his finger over Brendon’s lips and moving his other hand to press into the boy’s jutting hipbone firmly.
And so began Ryan and Brendon’s four hour heart-to-heart (which Jon was secretly eavesdropping on, but he didn’t dare let himself be known… he didn’t want to get killed for goodness sake!).
.
Jon woke up at close to midday, cursing loudly when he saw the time. Pete was going to neuter him! (Then how would things work with Spencer… wait, what?) Jon tried to shake the craziness out of his head as he fumbled with his clothes, tripping over multiple times and almost knocking himself out on the kitchen counter.
“Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuckity fuckfuckfuck!” he mumbled to himself, looking for Pete at every corner. When he reached his and Brendon’s stall, he was shocked to see a queue leading up to the open counter. “What the hell is going on?”
“You know, talking to yourself is the first sign of madness, Walker,” Pete pops up beside him, causing Jon to jump back and clutch his chest.
“Jesus fuck, Pe- Er… Mr Wentz!” Jon quickly corrects seeing the glare forming on his boss’s face.
“Your friend doesn’t seem to be very ill, Walker.”
“I guess he just recovered quickly?” Jon replied. He didn’t want to get Brendon into trouble, but he wasn’t functioning well enough to make up a proper excuse after waking up just 5 minutes ago. Luckily Pete bought it and wondered off to do whatever it is that he did in his spare time; probably count money, knowing him.
Jon cautiously made it over to the stall, not knowing what to expect; the last time he saw Brendon, he was still deathly pale and frighteningly thin. At first he only saw the back of the person manning the till. Jon couldn’t quite put a finger on who it was and started to panic. He carried on creeping into the stall and quickly spotted a frail-looking Brendon sitting on the chair watching the person contentedly.
“Bren…” Jon started, instantly catching the young boy’s attention. A smile broke across his face at the sight of this not-quite-best-friend and he started to get up from the chair, but was coaxed back down straight away by the stranger, who Jon now recognised as Ryan.
“Bren, what’re you doing? I told you, you shouldn’t be moving around too much! You’re still too weak!” Ryan cried, ignoring the customer he was still holding the order of. He heard a cough behind him and turned around to see Jon, “Oh… Go on then, I know you want to,” he conceded finally handing the customer their order, much to their relief. Brendon got up from his seat shakily and Jon rushed towards him, catching him in a hug before he could fall over.
“Oh, God. Brendon! You’re alright!” Jon sighed into Brendon’s hair, holding him closer but at the same time, making sure not to squash the fragile teenager. “Don’t you dare go doing something like that again, you hear me? You had me so scared!” Jon berated, pulling away slightly to look at the younger boy carefully.
“I promise, Jon,” Brendon said with a smile, looking over at Ryan while still leaning on Jon to keep himself upright.
“You’re too cute, you know that?” Jon asked, wrapping his arms around Brendon to make sure that he didn’t slip, knowing that the younger boy would fall without his support. Brendon hummed contentedly, leaning his head against Jon’s shoulder and watching Ryan fret about the stall. “Why didn’t you wake me up this morning? You know you didn’t have to man the stall, I could’ve done it,” Jon asked Ryan when there were no customers to serve and Ryan was sitting holding Brendon close on his lap. Ryan shrugged.
“We figured you could use the rest. Spencer came by at seven and when we got talking, he mentioned that you hadn’t been sleeping since…” Ryan trailed off, ashamed that he had caused his, dare he say it, boyfriend’s depression. Brendon, sensing this, rested his hand atop Ryan’s on his bony hip and pressed a chaste kiss to his lips trying to reassure him that he didn’t blame him any more. Jon marvelled at how well they functioned as a couple already; he wanted something like that.
“Talking of Spencer! What’s going on with you two? I’ve heard you’ve been talking a lot recently,” Brendon smirked at Jon, and for a second Jon forgot that anything was wrong; he looked so much like he did Before (Jon came up with that one on his own) with that cheeky look on his face. He almost forgot to feel scared, but then he remembered that Brendon hadn’t changed so much that that look didn’t mean trouble any more.
“Don’t even think about it, Urie!”
“Think about what, Jonathan?” Brendon blinked innocently back at him, a sparkle of mischief present in his eyes. Jon groaned; Brendon had a plan and not even a divine intervention could save him from the chaos it would undoubtedly cause. Knowing he had won, Brendon bounced happily on Ryan’s lap, earning an ‘oi, mind your elbows’ look from Ryan.
.
The chaos that ensued after Brendon’s plan had been set into motion was nothing short of… well, chaotic. The whole thing had been blocked from every Carnie’s mind; it was easier that way.
But the times after The Chaos, as Ryan so aptly named it, were some of the best in all four of the young men’s lives. Now, over a year later, Jon and Spencer were still going strong, and Ryan was contemplating performing one of the songs he had written about Brendon on the anniversary of The Incident. Ryan had refused to forget about it, no matter how much Brendon begged him to do so, claiming that it never let him forget that he almost lost the Love Of His Life (BrendonandRyan (yes, BrendonandRyan. Brendon almost started bouncing off the walls when Jon said this) had come up with that together one night). Brendon always melted by this point in Ryan’s speech and ended up kissing his Boyfriend (capital letters make things more official, after all) fiercely, as if reminding him that he was still there, Ryan didn’t lose him.