Categories > Celebrities > Panic! At The Disco > My heart, it beats for you.

Nothing feels like home, like you, babe.

by motherfucker 0 reviews

Read and find out!

Category: Panic! At The Disco - Rating: PG - Genres: Angst,Romance - Published: 2010-11-10 - Updated: 2010-11-11 - 1167 words - Complete

0Unrated
Nicole's POV. One year later: Panic! is nearing the end of the Nothing Rhymes With Circus tour. R&R, please?
++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++ Her hands were clutched around her stomach protectively as she ran through the city streets, clad in nightclothes and no shoes. She could make out the tiny, plump figure behind her by the dim light that the street lamps offered: It was her mother. The silver glint of the knife illuminated by the golden light sent chills down her spine. Her hand floated back to her stomach again; it bulged out past her knees. Wait, what?]
I awoke from the dream drenched in sweat, stifling a scream so that I wouldn't wake up everyone else on the tour bus. Ryan stirred at my side when my body stiffened. A low moan of fatigue and hangover pain came from his throat; the boys had found out that they'd been nominated for a MTV Music Video award, so last night had been a complete and total piss-fest. Lucky for me, the Aussie blood that ran through my veins allowed me to hold my pot and my liquor better than any of the boys.
"Good morning, starshine," he whispered into my ear. The arm he had around my waist tightened, bringing my body closer to his. It was kind of a laying down, from-behind hug.
"The Earth says hello!," I replied quietly.
"Shh, shh. Too loud. My head...," he started. I silenced him with some shushing of my own and crawled out of the tiny bunk and into the bathroom. I got some aspirin out of the medicine cabinet before brushing my teeth and combing my waist-length curly brown hair. My skin was dull from the restless night, and my hair smelled like weed. Oh well, I guess Ryan likes that smell if he smoked so much of it last night, I thought. I sighed as I stepped out of the bathroom and walked down the cramped isle to the mini-fridge, where I took out four cans of ginger ale. The guys would all be up soon, because Ryan's morning guitar practice had started. I put the ginger ale on our table before plopping myself down next to Ryan, who was currently tuning his guitar. He took in a breath and started to ask me for what I had assumed he'd want.
"Hey, baby, could you get me some-," he said as I picked up the bottle of aspirin and can of ginger ale from the table. "Oh, you're good," he said with a smile. He delivered a quick peck to my nose as the guys walked in.
"Morning, boys," I said cheerily.
"No. Quiet until Bden has his Red Bull," declared Brendon sleepily as he pointed to Ryan and I.
"Sheesh, Bren. It's on the table," I exclaimed as he greedily reached for the energy drink and downed it in less than fifteen seconds. His Red Bull addiction had grown stronger since Kaylie told him they'd be better off "seeing other people". It broke everyone's heart, because we all knew he was going to pop the question the next time he saw her. They all thought it was because of him touring all the time, but I knew the truth: Kaylie hated all the fangirls that wanted him. She couldn't take it, so she left him. It hurt me to see Brendon lose the love of his life to his other love, music. Fame was bittersweet. But as long as I had Ryan, it didn't matter.
"Nicole? Nic-Oollee? Earth to Nicole, Brenny Bear wants a hug!," sand Brendon, restored to his hyper self. I smirked at his childish antics, and gave my guy best friend a hug.
"Do you just not get hungover?," I asked, playfully ruffling his hair.
"Nope. It's all like water to me," he said with a content sigh. I huffed and plopped down next to Ryan, who had just swallowed the aspirin and chugged the ginger ale.
"Feeling better?," I asked Ryan with a smile.
"Well, not quite yet...," he whispered as his lips met mine.
"Okay, lovebirds, break it up. We're here!," called Zack, Panic!'s security guard and tour bus driver.
"Already? But we just got up!," I exclaimed, and then I realized that I was the only one still in my pajamas, other than Brendon.
"Mon age, it's two in the afternoon," Ryan said.
"But we just woke up!"
"No, Brendon, you, and I just woke up. Jon and Spence have been playing video games up front all day," he replied slowly.
"But how are you ready?"
"I'll shower right before the show. I've got on my vanilla deodorant, and my hair looks," he paused, looking in the mirror, muttering a profanity under his breath. "Well, I'll fix it before the show. But we have to sound check, you two get ready and meet us there, 'kay?"
"Okay, babe," I humphed as I gave his lips a quick peck. "Love you."
"Love you, too. Don't you ever forget it."
"I won't. Hey, Ry?"
"Yes, gorgeous?"
"This is the last show, right?"
"Yeah, it is."
"Perfect." I had no idea what happened right as my beautiful boyfriend, Jon, and Spencer left the bus would change my life forever.
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I stepped out of the tour bus bathroom, dressed in black skinny jeans and Ryan's yellow Modest Mouse shirt. My hair was wet, and my face was free of makeup. I really need to cut my hair, I thought as I brushed its waves down to my butt. I walked into the bunk room to see Brendon, dressed in brown skinnies and a red tee. He looked effortlessly cool, and that smile that he flashed at me helped, definitely. But I could tell by the way he was shaking his foot rapidly that he was deep in thought.
"What's wrong, Bren?," I asked as I plopped down next to him. He sighed before he replied.
"Well, there's this girl," he paused, taking a deep breath. "And I'm pretty sure I love her. But she loves someone else," he continued with a tear in his voice.
"Well, there's no harm in telling her how you feel," I said as I rested my arm on his shoulder, ruffling his hair in an attempt to comfort him.
"Seriously? Are you sure?"
"I'm positive," I replied, grinning reassuringly.
"Okay, well, Nicole?"
"Yes, Brenny?"
"I love you. I always have." I guess we didn't hear the bus door open, nor did we hear the footsteps down the hall. But we did hear the shocked gasp and shout of the person we had yet to notice.
"THE FUCK?!" I knew that voice anywhere. That voice belonged to none other than George Ryan Ross III, lead guitarist and lyricist of Panic! At The Disco.
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A/N: Hey guys. Long time no update, right? Well, by no means am I leaving this story behind. I'm finishing this hush puppy. Title is Never Shout Never, I Love You More Than You Will Ever Know.
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