Stockholm Syndrome
This is actually my first band!RPF fic, and I'm just jumping in because, well it seems like the thing to do.
Stockholm Syndrome
800 words // PG
For the December 19th prompt.
Ryan (P!atD gen)
It's lonely in here and that surprises Ryan. He wasn't expecting to feel lonely. He's not even alone. He's at Spencer's for Christmas and it's not much different from other years he ended up here for one reason or another.
But he's in his own room and there's no one here.
Solitude should be comforting. He's a moody musician compounded by being a writer and he's constantly struggling to be alone enough for thoughts to flow. But now he's too alone.
He most certainly must have been on tour too long if that's even a thought he can think. But he's gotten used to never, ever being alone and having to make space for himself in his head while Brendon makes commotions and Jon laughs. And now Brendon's not making commotions to laugh at and Spencer is downstairs sharing some much-deserved quality time with his family and Ryan is lonely.
There's no one to pull him out when he gets too deep, too lost inside himself. No one who thinks a game of Guitar Hero is the answer to everything, the way Spencer's mom thinks it's Pepto Bismol. There are no food fights, no impromptu wrestling matches where the only rules are "not Brendon's face." No one to bother him when he's sulking in his bunk. No bunk.
Ryan misses his bunk, the bus, like it's home. And it really is. But that's weird because it's not like Nothing Rhymes With Circus was even his first tour. It's not like he didn't know it was going to be over eventually. But somewhere in that time on the road, everything else stopped feeling like home. Everyone else stopped feeling like family. Ryan feels like a guest in the Smith house and he's known them forever, the room he's staying in is unofficially his.
But Ryan doesn't want a home-cooked Christmas meal. He wants Zach to show up with a bag full of 7-11 goodies and to stay up talking with Jon and Brendon and Spence all night, watching the world around them speed by. He wants one of their two hotel rooms to be extraneous because they've all fallen asleep watching lame movies.
He wants to go bother Brendon. Call Jon. Check to make sure they're all as lonely and lost as he is, find out if they're also counting the days until the four of them are reunited. But he's afraid they're not. He's afraid he's a giant nerd with massive psychological problems and he'll just be interrupting time they desperately need away from him.
Ryan's phone trills and it's Jon, which surprises him.
"Hey, man, what's up?"
”Not much,” he says, and then after a pause, “There are too many people in this house. And too much wasted space at the same time, and, just, I’ve gotten too used to being on tour, I think.”
It's nice to hear, for a lot of reasons. Because Ryan likes to think that Jon's the most well adjusted member of the band, for one thing. Actually, it's probably Spencer, but that scares Ryan for a variety of reasons, number one being that Ryan knows exactly how maladjusted Spencer is, and if he's the best they can do, well, Ryan's calling doom now. Anyway. Ryan's glad that Jon's on the phone, because it sounds like Jon's dealing with the same stuff Ryan is, so he can't be too far out of line. And it's awesome that Jon called him - whether he's already tried Brendon and Spencer or just knew Ryan would be alone or genuinely actually wanted to talk to Ryan, he called. And they're talking and Jon's idly strumming his bass and making Ryan's fingers itch for a pen, making him itch for two weeks from now when they're all holed up in a new crummy apartment together collaborating.
"This time," Ryan says, interrupting Jon’s good-natured grumbling about his family with ease and a feeling of self-importance he hasn't had since the bus drove off without them, "it's gonna be a real collaboration. We're all gonna have a say. And you'll get to play songs you actually like."
Jon laughs, “I like the 'Fever' songs.”
"They're not yours, though," Ryan protests back. "But they will be."
Jon takes that as an invitation to start talking music and goofs off on some fingering for Ryan to listen to.
It's exactly like a thousand nights on the bus and Ryan suddenly feels like a victim of Stockholm Syndrome. He'd rather be anywhere talking music with Jon, and Brendon and Spencer than in a faux home trying to be normal. He'd rather be being interviewed. Ryan stopped doubting this career path a long time ago, but his decision, all of their decisions, this insane path he dragged them down, feels affirmed now.
Stockholm Syndrome
800 words // PG
For the December 19th prompt.
Ryan (P!atD gen)
It's lonely in here and that surprises Ryan. He wasn't expecting to feel lonely. He's not even alone. He's at Spencer's for Christmas and it's not much different from other years he ended up here for one reason or another.
But he's in his own room and there's no one here.
Solitude should be comforting. He's a moody musician compounded by being a writer and he's constantly struggling to be alone enough for thoughts to flow. But now he's too alone.
He most certainly must have been on tour too long if that's even a thought he can think. But he's gotten used to never, ever being alone and having to make space for himself in his head while Brendon makes commotions and Jon laughs. And now Brendon's not making commotions to laugh at and Spencer is downstairs sharing some much-deserved quality time with his family and Ryan is lonely.
There's no one to pull him out when he gets too deep, too lost inside himself. No one who thinks a game of Guitar Hero is the answer to everything, the way Spencer's mom thinks it's Pepto Bismol. There are no food fights, no impromptu wrestling matches where the only rules are "not Brendon's face." No one to bother him when he's sulking in his bunk. No bunk.
Ryan misses his bunk, the bus, like it's home. And it really is. But that's weird because it's not like Nothing Rhymes With Circus was even his first tour. It's not like he didn't know it was going to be over eventually. But somewhere in that time on the road, everything else stopped feeling like home. Everyone else stopped feeling like family. Ryan feels like a guest in the Smith house and he's known them forever, the room he's staying in is unofficially his.
But Ryan doesn't want a home-cooked Christmas meal. He wants Zach to show up with a bag full of 7-11 goodies and to stay up talking with Jon and Brendon and Spence all night, watching the world around them speed by. He wants one of their two hotel rooms to be extraneous because they've all fallen asleep watching lame movies.
He wants to go bother Brendon. Call Jon. Check to make sure they're all as lonely and lost as he is, find out if they're also counting the days until the four of them are reunited. But he's afraid they're not. He's afraid he's a giant nerd with massive psychological problems and he'll just be interrupting time they desperately need away from him.
Ryan's phone trills and it's Jon, which surprises him.
"Hey, man, what's up?"
”Not much,” he says, and then after a pause, “There are too many people in this house. And too much wasted space at the same time, and, just, I’ve gotten too used to being on tour, I think.”
It's nice to hear, for a lot of reasons. Because Ryan likes to think that Jon's the most well adjusted member of the band, for one thing. Actually, it's probably Spencer, but that scares Ryan for a variety of reasons, number one being that Ryan knows exactly how maladjusted Spencer is, and if he's the best they can do, well, Ryan's calling doom now. Anyway. Ryan's glad that Jon's on the phone, because it sounds like Jon's dealing with the same stuff Ryan is, so he can't be too far out of line. And it's awesome that Jon called him - whether he's already tried Brendon and Spencer or just knew Ryan would be alone or genuinely actually wanted to talk to Ryan, he called. And they're talking and Jon's idly strumming his bass and making Ryan's fingers itch for a pen, making him itch for two weeks from now when they're all holed up in a new crummy apartment together collaborating.
"This time," Ryan says, interrupting Jon’s good-natured grumbling about his family with ease and a feeling of self-importance he hasn't had since the bus drove off without them, "it's gonna be a real collaboration. We're all gonna have a say. And you'll get to play songs you actually like."
Jon laughs, “I like the 'Fever' songs.”
"They're not yours, though," Ryan protests back. "But they will be."
Jon takes that as an invitation to start talking music and goofs off on some fingering for Ryan to listen to.
It's exactly like a thousand nights on the bus and Ryan suddenly feels like a victim of Stockholm Syndrome. He'd rather be anywhere talking music with Jon, and Brendon and Spencer than in a faux home trying to be normal. He'd rather be being interviewed. Ryan stopped doubting this career path a long time ago, but his decision, all of their decisions, this insane path he dragged them down, feels affirmed now.