Categories > Celebrities > Panic! At The Disco > Ryan's Not Dead!
A/N: Haiii! I’m back again. I hope you guys love this chappy. I’m kind of experimenting, so don’t hate me if it doesn’t turn out perfect. :( Pwease.
Brendon drifted off as they sat through the interview that day. He found out Ryan wasn’t dead and then Ryan found out Brendon was going nuts again, blah, blah, blah, the usual stuff. At least, it was usual for now. Brendon hadn’t liked the idea of going, but they persuaded--forced--him to go.
So now they were back at the hotel. Brendon began to get nervous as they neared the elevator. He tried to open his mouth to speak against taking the elevator several times, but only the odd squeaking noise would come out. He paused in mid squeak as his footsteps followed the others. He managed to find his vocal chords as they stood outside the elevator. He grabbed Ryan’s arm.
“Don’t take the elevator. Please.”
Ryan looked down at him, giving him a strange look. He cleared his throat. “Um, why?”
“Because I don’t like them. Take the stairs with me so I won’t be lonely?” Brendon pouted.
“You rode the elevator down just fine,” Ryan pointed out. Damn. Brendon was caught.
“But-but-but please!” Brendon repeated lamely. Ryan rolled his eyes.
“Brendon, I am not walking up seven flights of stairs.”
A ding announced the elevator was there. Brendon panicked.
“You’re going to die because the elevator will crash!” He blurted out. Spencer, Jon, and Ryan turned to him and stared after exchanging glances.
“Bren, the elevator won’t crash,” Ryan said soothingly. Brendon wasn’t going to be fooled this time.
“Yes, yes it will, please you have to believe me,” Brendon pleaded. He was beginning to create a scene. And a scene was not what the band needed.
“Bren, have you considered mental help?” Spencer asked cautiously, like Brendon was some sort of caged animal that was snarling ferociously. Okay, maybe not like that, but pretty cautiously.
Brendon got frustrated. “Yes! Yes I have! And I know it won’t help because I have to keep him-” Brendon pointed at Ryan. “-from dying!” He was yelling, causing a disturbance. The people behind the desk looked over, obviously not happy with Brendon’s yelling.
Then something happened quite simultaneously in Brendon‘s body.
Brendon became overwhelmed by voices in his head. Voices of everyone he knew. Ryan, Spencer, Jon, Pete, Patrick, his mother, his father… everyone, at once just whispering over and over. He fell to his knees, holding onto his head and somewhat--okay, he was--screaming.
Pain hit his senses in waves. First it felt like there was pressure on his head, then it felt like someone was squeezing his windpipe shut, then it felt like needles jabbing into every part of his flesh… his senses overloaded with pain and he felt his conscious mind slipping into all the whispers.
Bren, please… come back to us… are you okay? I love you… hi again… do you remember me? Is any of this getting through to you… they said you were okay… are you okay? I miss you… what’s wrong with you? Why won’t you wake up? Brendon, wake up… wake up… wake up… please wake up…
“I AM AWAKE!” Brendon screamed. His eyes snapped open and suddenly the world wasn’t as bright as it was before. He glanced around the unfamiliar room. It was dark and the shadows twisted his vision into thinking deceptive thoughts. He quickly flipped on a light. He frowned as he looked around, still not recognizing it. It… looked like a hotel room, but it certainly didn’t feel like one. He grabbed his phone and called Ryan.
A groggy, angry sounding Ryan answered him in a gruff voice. “What?”
“Where am I?” Brendon asked, sounding a little less than terrified.
“You’re in the hotel room.” Pause. “Why don’t you ever remember where you are anymore? We’re on tour, you idiot. Do you just get drunk every night?” Ryan asked.
Drunk? Did Brendon drink? Surely, he didn’t, right? Brendon paused.
“Are you sure? What city are we in?”
“--the fuck, Bden. Are you an idiot? We’re in New York. Now will you shut up and go back to sleep so I can fucking get some rest?”
Jesus, Ryan was testy when he was tired. Brendon agreed and they hung up. Brendon stared up at the ceiling. Who were the voices? He didn’t understand. His brow furrowed as he tried to concentrate and try to sort out this strange timeline of events. It just ended in a frustrated scream into the pillow.
Wake up Brendon, please… why aren’t you waking up? The voices whispered to him once more. Brendon frowned.
“I am awake, you stupid voices,” he mumbled into the pillow.
Everything’s just the way you left it, I promise. All you need to do is wake up…
“I’m scared to wake up.”
Why won’t you listen? Why don’t you come back? Wake up. I know you’re there.
“Where? Where is there?”
Wake up! Please!
Brendon groaned. This was just going to end up in another headache.
A/N: Mewmew. I hope you like this. I’m almost at a full circle! Just a little bit more and I swear things will come together. Promise. ^^
Brendon drifted off as they sat through the interview that day. He found out Ryan wasn’t dead and then Ryan found out Brendon was going nuts again, blah, blah, blah, the usual stuff. At least, it was usual for now. Brendon hadn’t liked the idea of going, but they persuaded--forced--him to go.
So now they were back at the hotel. Brendon began to get nervous as they neared the elevator. He tried to open his mouth to speak against taking the elevator several times, but only the odd squeaking noise would come out. He paused in mid squeak as his footsteps followed the others. He managed to find his vocal chords as they stood outside the elevator. He grabbed Ryan’s arm.
“Don’t take the elevator. Please.”
Ryan looked down at him, giving him a strange look. He cleared his throat. “Um, why?”
“Because I don’t like them. Take the stairs with me so I won’t be lonely?” Brendon pouted.
“You rode the elevator down just fine,” Ryan pointed out. Damn. Brendon was caught.
“But-but-but please!” Brendon repeated lamely. Ryan rolled his eyes.
“Brendon, I am not walking up seven flights of stairs.”
A ding announced the elevator was there. Brendon panicked.
“You’re going to die because the elevator will crash!” He blurted out. Spencer, Jon, and Ryan turned to him and stared after exchanging glances.
“Bren, the elevator won’t crash,” Ryan said soothingly. Brendon wasn’t going to be fooled this time.
“Yes, yes it will, please you have to believe me,” Brendon pleaded. He was beginning to create a scene. And a scene was not what the band needed.
“Bren, have you considered mental help?” Spencer asked cautiously, like Brendon was some sort of caged animal that was snarling ferociously. Okay, maybe not like that, but pretty cautiously.
Brendon got frustrated. “Yes! Yes I have! And I know it won’t help because I have to keep him-” Brendon pointed at Ryan. “-from dying!” He was yelling, causing a disturbance. The people behind the desk looked over, obviously not happy with Brendon’s yelling.
Then something happened quite simultaneously in Brendon‘s body.
Brendon became overwhelmed by voices in his head. Voices of everyone he knew. Ryan, Spencer, Jon, Pete, Patrick, his mother, his father… everyone, at once just whispering over and over. He fell to his knees, holding onto his head and somewhat--okay, he was--screaming.
Pain hit his senses in waves. First it felt like there was pressure on his head, then it felt like someone was squeezing his windpipe shut, then it felt like needles jabbing into every part of his flesh… his senses overloaded with pain and he felt his conscious mind slipping into all the whispers.
Bren, please… come back to us… are you okay? I love you… hi again… do you remember me? Is any of this getting through to you… they said you were okay… are you okay? I miss you… what’s wrong with you? Why won’t you wake up? Brendon, wake up… wake up… wake up… please wake up…
“I AM AWAKE!” Brendon screamed. His eyes snapped open and suddenly the world wasn’t as bright as it was before. He glanced around the unfamiliar room. It was dark and the shadows twisted his vision into thinking deceptive thoughts. He quickly flipped on a light. He frowned as he looked around, still not recognizing it. It… looked like a hotel room, but it certainly didn’t feel like one. He grabbed his phone and called Ryan.
A groggy, angry sounding Ryan answered him in a gruff voice. “What?”
“Where am I?” Brendon asked, sounding a little less than terrified.
“You’re in the hotel room.” Pause. “Why don’t you ever remember where you are anymore? We’re on tour, you idiot. Do you just get drunk every night?” Ryan asked.
Drunk? Did Brendon drink? Surely, he didn’t, right? Brendon paused.
“Are you sure? What city are we in?”
“--the fuck, Bden. Are you an idiot? We’re in New York. Now will you shut up and go back to sleep so I can fucking get some rest?”
Jesus, Ryan was testy when he was tired. Brendon agreed and they hung up. Brendon stared up at the ceiling. Who were the voices? He didn’t understand. His brow furrowed as he tried to concentrate and try to sort out this strange timeline of events. It just ended in a frustrated scream into the pillow.
Wake up Brendon, please… why aren’t you waking up? The voices whispered to him once more. Brendon frowned.
“I am awake, you stupid voices,” he mumbled into the pillow.
Everything’s just the way you left it, I promise. All you need to do is wake up…
“I’m scared to wake up.”
Why won’t you listen? Why don’t you come back? Wake up. I know you’re there.
“Where? Where is there?”
Wake up! Please!
Brendon groaned. This was just going to end up in another headache.
A/N: Mewmew. I hope you like this. I’m almost at a full circle! Just a little bit more and I swear things will come together. Promise. ^^
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