Categories > Celebrities > Panic! At The Disco > A Story of Complications

Chapter 7.

by Wicked_Lovely 0 reviews

Category: Panic! At The Disco - Rating: R - Genres: Drama - Published: 2010-12-19 - Updated: 2010-12-19 - 2958 words - Complete


The past three months have gone by slowly, Brendon became a severe alcoholic, and a drug addict. I barely ever talked to Jon and Spencer, maybe a few words a week. I only left the house when I had to buy things, Brendon was able to find his way back even if it took a few days. I barley ever sleep, and I barley ever eat. I was on a steady diet of coffee and cigarettes. And occasionally a piece of fruit. I still took care of Brendon when he was home. And nights when he didn't have someone to fuck, and he was horny, he would have his way with me. Nights when he wanted to beat someone up, he would beat me. And some nights, I wouldn't talk to him, or see him at all.
And now I'm sitting at the kitchen table, trying to allow myself to drink my coffee. And he's asleep upstairs. He came home around four last night. I'm just trying to relax, I can only ever relax when he's asleep in his room. It meant I didn't have to worry where he was, and I didn't have to worry about what he was going to do to me. My phone went off and I awnsered. "Hello?" The door bell rang and I got up, walking towards the door.
"Ryan, so glad that you could answer, are you home?" Spencer, and I can hear Jon yelling in the back.
"Uh...Yeah." I'm staring at the door.
"Great, now open the fucking door." He hangs up, and I hear pounding on the door. So I walk over to it, unlock it, and open it. "Where the fuck is he?" Spencer yells.
"Who?" I ask quietly.
"Brendon, the fucking bastard!"
"He's out."
"Great, Jon, he's upstairs in his room. Go get him."
"What are you doing?" I ask Spencer as Jon goes upstairs. I'm confused, and hell, I'm scared."Ryan," Spencer started to speak softer. "have you looked at yourself recently?" I know, I have a black eye, with deep bags under both eyes, and a busted lip. I'm thin as a twig, and my arms are practically pink and red from where I've cut myself. But he can't see those cuts, because I always where long sleeves. I got in the habit again.And I know I look sick. So I nod. "Patrick called us, asked us if Brendon was still hitting you, if he was still drinking, if he was still.....raped you." I felt tears sting my eyes, and I felt a plague of sickness wash over me. "We're taking him to an intervention. Before he hurts you to badly. Before he kills himself."
"You can't take him." I barley whispered it, but it wasn't fair. They couldn't just take him. Don't get me wrong, I hate this side of him. I hate it with a fiery passion of a thousand burning suns, but if it's what he wants, then why try to change him? He deserves everything he wants. He's just so god damned perfect. I started to cry. Though I didn't make a sound, my eyes were still leaking with tears. "You can't..." It was barley audible, but I know he heard me.
"You're coming two." Spencer said with a small smile, like he was trying to comfort me. He tried to hug me, and I took a step back, not letting him touch me. Jon came down the stairs, dragging Brendon after him. And while I was looking at Brendon's confused face, Spencer picked me up like I was a little kid. Jon has his wrist handcuffed to one of Brendon's, so they both sit in the backseat, while Spencer puts me in shotgun and gets in the driver seat. I look back at the two of them.
"Brendon?" I asked tears were still flowing somewhat steadily from my eyes.
"This is all your fault!" he slurred and his non-handcuffed hand punched my already swollen face. I sink back into my seat and pull my legs up to my chest. And I try to focus on the cup of coffee that was still on the table at home. The car is silent, other than Brendon's constant screaming about how he doesn't want to be here, and how Spencer and Jon have yet to tell us where were going. I stay silent and light a cigarette, and everyone goes silent. I think Brendon's starting to sober up, since he says something that has no slur, and sounds somewhat comprehensible. "How long have you been smoking?" I let the question hang in the air, trying to read everything that was dripping in his voice. I think I heard some concern in it. Odd.
"If you can kill yourself slowly, so can I." I finally say. It makes me sick to be mean to him like that, but I thought it was a reasonable answer.
"No you can't." Spencer says when we pull up to a stoplight, and he takes it from my fingers, throwing it out of the window. "We already have one band member with a bad habit, we don't need two." I spent the rest of the car ride looking out the window. The car pulls up to an unfamiliar house, and Spencer gets out. He takes Jon and Brendon out of the back seat handcuffing Brendon's free hand to his own. I get out of the car on my own will. Mainly because I want to see if I can get Brendon and I away from them. But Brendon's now sober, and not in a bad mood. Granted, he's irritated, but he's not, 'I'm going to kill you' mad. I follow them up to the door, and I realize that I'm most likely the only one that's uncomfortable. Jon rang the doorbell.
"Who's house is this?" I ask. It has kind of a familiar unfamiliar look to it.
"You don't remember?" Jon asked utterly confused. I shake my head and the door opens to revile Patrick, with Pete not to far behind him. I nod, knowing why it seemed so familiar. I had only been here once though, so I figured that's why I couldn't remember it fully.
Spencer Jon and Brendon walk in first, and I stay outside for a few seconds, trying to decide whether or not I want to go in. "You can come in Ryan, you know we don't bite." That's funny, he bit me a lot not too long ago. I walk in anyways, trying to not worry about what's going to happen next. We walk into the small living room, and Pete locks the door. "Why is Brendon handcuffed to you guys?"
"At first, it was because we didn't want him to run away, and then in the car he hit Ryan." Spencer replied simply.
"I hit Ryan?" Brendon was now looking scared. I wanted to hug him, tell him it was okay, that I forgive him. That I love him. And he looks at me, regret in his eyes, rimmed with sadness. I look down at my hands, not able too look at those pained eyes that were filled with beauty. "Why didn't you tell me?" He was talking in a whisper now, like it was just the two of us in the room. And I could feel his eyes burning on me, burrowing under my skin and making me squirm.
"I tried to..." I looked back up and looked in his eyes. It was one of the hardiest things I ever tried to do.
"Don't try and blame this on Ryan. He's been trying his hardiest to help you, and to make you happy." Jon said with a stern look on his face. Brendon shut up and Pete decided it was his turn to talk.
"Patrick, why don't you take Ryan into some other room and get his face cleaned up." Patrick stood and practically picked me up carrying me into the bathroom.
"What are they going to do to him?" I asked once he shut the door. He got a towel and ran it under the sink with warm water before using it to gently touch my swollen face.
"Their just going to talk to him." He said trying to give me a reassuring smile. But I didn't believe him. Their was the sound of something breaking outside the door, and I looked at it, fear apparent on my face. "Their mostly doing it for you, you know." Patrick said taking my chin in his hands so I would look at him.
"You love him too much. He's hurting you more than he is himself." I looked at him, shaking my head.
"That doesn't make any sense Patrick."
"Ryan, you can't really tell me that it doesn't hurt you when you see him drunk, stumbling home with some random person off the street. Or when he hits you. Or how about when the day after, he doesn't have any memory, and you take care of him anyway. We're all worried about what this is doing to you." He gave me a look of concern, and I just stared at him. After a few minutes he broke the silence. "Let me see your chest, you have to have some scratches on you." I shook my head, backing into a corner. "Ryan, let me see your chest, you're starting to worry me."
"No." I said with a shaky breath. But he took it off anyway, gasping at the sight. The scratches that were made by fingernails, the bites that were black and blue. And he could most likely see the huge bruises that were on my hips. But my guess is the thing that worried him the most was the cuts on my arms. Not that I was surprised by it. It's the main reason why I didn't want him seeing my chest and arms. I put my head in my hands, starting to cry. I heard yelling outside of the room and started shaking. It was all just too much."I just wish he would stop."
"Hey, it's okay. He'll get better. I promise." Patrick said pulling me into a tight hug. I stood as still as I could. I heard another thing break outside the door, and closed my eyes tightly. "I'll be right back, okay?" He asked picking up a small tape recorder off of the sink and walking out. I followed him quietly, and he didn't seem to notice. I stayed in the hallway and listened to what they were saying. It sounded like Brendon was crying, and I could here Pete yelling. He was yelling something about how Brendon was hurting someone. I sat down on the floor.
"I didn't know I was hurting someone!" Brendon yelled at the top of his lungs. "How do I know you're even telling the truth? I don't even remember hurting Ryan." He said that a little more calmly.
"I think I can help with that." Patrick said.
I heard the conversation that I had with Patrick just moments before. Everyone was silent, intent on listening to it. I heard Brendon start to cry again, and whimpered slightly at the sound. It brought a pang of sadness to me.
"Ryan, come in here and stop hiding in the hall!" Patrick said. I looked up, and sat as still as possible. "I know you're there!" I stood, walking into the room slowly.
"Oh my god." Jon said, walking over to me. Spencer followed him and I bit my lip. Brendon just stared as Spencer and Jon gave me a hug. Pete walked over to us, and pulled my clothing down just far enough for everyone to see one of the bruises.
"I...I did that to you?" Brendon asked in a scared voice. I hated seeing him like this. Regret, fear, and agony was written all over his face. His eyes were filled with pain, fear and a hint of confusion. I closed my eyes not wanting to see him anymore.
"Now will you go to a rehab center?" Spencer said irritated.
"Yes." Brendon sniffled. I opened my eyes. Spencer and Jon walked over to Brendon, and they started to walk out of the house.
"No."I whispered with wide eyes. They couldn't take him away from me. It was worse not having him than barley having him at all. They didn't even slow down. I think Spencer heard and when he did he rushed Brendon out of the door. He knew me too well. "Don't take him." I said starting to walk to the door. Of course, I was tired and weak from not eating and barley sleeping, and got dizzy after just a little bit of walking. I almost collapsed to the floor, and Pete caught me. Holding me as I struggled to go after them. "They can't take him."
"They have to. You have two options: to stay with us until he get's better, or to stay by yourself and call us everyday." Pete said. I started to shake. They were gone. I wouldn't be able to see him for who knows how long. And there was absolutely nothing I could do about it. "Patrick make some tea for Ryan please." Patrick left and Pete helped me over to the couch. "Ryan, you have to chose one." He looked at me and I just stared into empty space. "Ryan, come on. Don't ignore me. Say something." I couldn't see straight. "Blink, nod, flinch, move. Do anything." Pete said in a worried tone. I hear Patrick come in and put a cup of hot tea down on the table. My chest ached, and my head was pounding. "He's not responding to anything." Pete said to Patrick, his voice seemed to crack when he said it. Patrick sighed.
"We should just take him home."
"But what if he doesn't take care of himself?"
"We'll force him to take care of himself." I felt someone pick me up, and Pete sighed.
"I'll take him." I could tell that the person who was carrying me was walking, and I heard the door to the house shut. It sounded the same as when they took Brendon away.
"He's probably still in shock." Patrick said. I felt myself being put down on a cool bench, and someone sat down next to me.
"He should have seen it coming." Pete said from right next to me. I heard the door in front open and close, and the car started to move. It made me feel even more sick. I allowed myself to lean on Pete, and he hugged me.
"Be nice, how would you feel if you were in his situation?"
"I don't ever have to worry about that. You're too perfect."
"I guess maybe I sympathize with him because I've been in his situation before. Maybe not as bad, but pretty close."
"I'm sorry." Pete's voice grew quite as he said the last words. And the rest of the car ride was silent. I probably would have fallen asleep if it weren't for the fact that I couldn't sleep. I just felt to sick. My eyes hurt, my head was pounding, I had a sharp pain in my chest, and a sore throat. Pete held me the whole way there, trying to comfort me. We made it to my apartment, and I forced myself to walk up to my room. They followed. I opened the door with my key, waiting to go inside.
"Thank you for taking me home." I said almost silently.
"You're not getting off that easily." Pete said walking in. Patrick followed. I looked at the two of them, roaming in Brendon and I's apartment. I walked in and closed the door.
"What are you looking for?" I picked up a pack of cigarettes off of the table by the door, replacing it with my keys. I tapped one out and pulled out my lighter. I took a small drag. My stomach ache went away and my head ache lessened.
"An extra key." Pete said. I frowned. They probably want a key so they can check on me and make sure I'm not doing anything bad.
"There is no extra key."
"You've got to be kidding me." Patrick said.
"Why don't you have an extra key?" Pete asked.
"Because my stupid ass skank of an ex took our extra key and never gave it back." That shut them up. "I think I"m going to take a nap. So if you don't mind, can you leave?" I asked trying not to sound rude, but not wanting to stand around and wait for them to leave.
"Okay, but under one condition. You call everyday, and allow us in three times a week." Pete said.
"We're worried about you Ryan." Patrick added. "We just want to make sure you're safe." I was starting to get angry. I wanted to scream at them, to tell them I could take care of myself, that I wasn't a little kid. But I just nodded.
"Okay. I guess I can agree to that."
"The hospital will call once a week with checkups on Brendon, and I think they'll allow you to talk to him." Pete said walking towards the door.
"But we don't want you to see him there." Patrick said as Pete left and he followed him out the door.
"Okay." I shut the door in their faces and heard them talking from outside as I locked the door. I put out the cigarette, and went into Brendon's room. I dug threw his drawers, pulling out all of the alcohol and drugs that he had. And I moved them from his room to mine.
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