Categories > Celebrities > Panic! At The Disco > Birdcage

We All Fall Down

by Wicked_Lovely 1 review

"We can't do this anymore."

Category: Panic! At The Disco - Rating: R - Genres: Romance - Published: 2012-01-01 - Updated: 2012-01-02 - 3028 words

Ryan never came back. I waited, and waited, and waited. All night, the next day, and all of the following night. There were no phone calls, no visits, nothing. It was as if he dropped off the face of the Earth. Or, at least, it would have been that way if Spencer also refused to pick up the phone. I called him at least ten times, leaving a voicemail every time. A desperate plea for him to just fucking listen to me. I needed at least one of them, but karma had me. I was supposed to only have one, but instead I decided to have both. And it screwed me over.
There was no real way for me to get ahold of Ryan, and that gave me the option of trying to win Spencer back over. A challenge I was willing to accept. I knew he wouldn't answer once he knew it was me, but we always had band practice at his place so he never had to drag his drums to my apartment, so I was left with a spare key. If he didn't invite me in, I would come in of my own accord.
It was the only real chance I had. A part of me said that it was too late, that I should have tried the day before, but what kind of person would I be if I didn't try? I loved Spencer like a brother, and I truly needed him just as much as he needed me. I had to try, so we both wouldn't be lonely. I made my way to his house, about a ten minute drive. His house is a small thing, just a simplistic townhouse. It was the exact thing that Spencer loved, simplistic and practical. When we were on our first tour he was always asking Ryan and I if we were going a little too over the top, and we would smile, and ignore the budget, and tell him that it didn't matter. Ryan used to love over-the-top performances.
I smiled as I turned the car off, my head falling in my hands as I laughed. My sweet perfect angle, not a single person could deny him. Not even me. I felt something damp fall onto my hands and lifted my head, wiping my eyes before letting my head fall back, giving a sigh. Spencer's car was in the driveway, and I couldn't help but wonder if he was home. I hoped he was. I got out of the car, running a hand through my hair on my way to his front door. I felt slightly nauseated as I knocked on the door, my mind begging him to open it.
I shifted from foot to foot, hearing the sound of a lock turning before the door opened a small sliver, the chain that Spencer hardly used in place. He glared at me, and I knew he was getting ready to slam the door closed, so I placed my hand on the wood, clearing my throat.
"Hey Spence." He continued to glare, making me lick my lips nervously.
"What?" His voice was angry and tired, and I couldn't help but feel guilty in a matter of moments. I closed my eyes and took a deep breath, trying to remind myself to be calm, that it would work out.
"Can we…Can we talk? Please?" He stared at me, taking in my appearance.
"Move your hand." I let my hand drop to my side, hoping he would let me in. My fingers toyed with the tip of my sleeve, and he closed the door. I stared at the wood for a few moments, waiting for him to open it again, and after a minute I raised my hand to knock once more. The door opened before my fist could touch the surface, and I stared at Spencer as he gave a loud sigh, letting me walk into his small house.
He gestured over to the couch and I took the invitation, sitting down on the blue cushions as he shifted from foot to foot. "I'll go get us a few beers." He walked off, scratching the back of his head. His house was a mess, but that wasn't really saying much. It was almost always a mess. Records were skewed on the floor, some in their sleeves while others were out in the open, tissues and beer bottles scattered on just about ever surface. Dirty clothing items were tossed here and there helped make just about every surface having some kind of dirty object on it.
Spencer walked back in the room, and he wasn't doing much better than his house. His hair was greasy and everywhere, sticking up in every possible angle while still being tied in nots. Stubble covered his face, making him look older than he actually was. The shirt he was wearing was wrinkled and his pants weren't in any better shape. His eyes were tired and irritated, making the rest of his facial features less the welcoming. He handed me one of the beers, sitting in a green chair that was placed across the blue couch.
I waited to see if he was going to say anything before speaking. "Spencer, I'm really sorry,"
"No you're not. You knew exactly what you were doing." I sighed. I knew he was going to act like this.
"I should have told you." I tried to go on with what I wanted to tell him, but he cut me short.
"No, you shouldn't have been with him in the first place! For God's sake Brendon, do you even fucking remember what he did? What they both did?"
"He didn't do anything!"
"Brendon! How fucking ignorant can you be? I saw them! They cheated on us because their tiny minds decided it was a good idea to do drugs!" I feel silent. He never told me he had caught them. I always just thought it was a cover for why they actually broke up. "They were fucking Brendon! I told you not to talk to him again, because I know he's going to break your heart." My throat went dry, and I looked at him, seeing his pleading eyes and distressed face. I licked my lips.
"Is that…Is that true?" My voice had become nothing but a notch above a whisper, and he looked somewhat guilty as he stared at me. The room went silent for a moment, and I could feel my eyes watering, my mind racing as to why he would do it when he knew that it would hurt me. When it would hurt everyone.
"I'm sorry Brendon." I looked at him with blurry vision, the feel of water running down my cheeks. He got up and sat next to me, wrapping his arms around me, letting me cry on his shoulder. "He hasn't called yet, has he?" I shook my head, letting out a strangled sob. He gave a small sigh, running his fingers through my hair. We stayed like that for a long time, just sitting in the silence as we both took in what they had done to us. I didn't like it, but I started to get why he hated them, because I was doing the same. I calmed down, and Spencer looked at me like I would break again at any minute, making me feel venerable and weak. Then again, I kind of was.
We sat around for the next few hours smoking with movies in the background, trashing the people we used to love. It was surprisingly easy, which made it all the harder to get over. I hated how easy it was to say bad things about my warmth. He was so perfect, so nice, and sweet, and kind, and caring, and loving. And a fucking liar. A goddamned drug addicted liar. Jon was the same, and Spencer spat his name with anger every time he forced himself to say it. Not that I was any better.
We were alone together, and miserable company when you're already feeling shitty is the best kind of company.
I left high with my spirits darkened, as my mind left me feeling more alone than ever. But I had decided to get over it, because there was nothing to do other than be miserable. Or high as a fucking kite, and you might as well take the latter option. Being at home alone felt a lot like a nightmare filled with bad memories, and I wanted nothing more for them all to go away, for the week to be over so I could get over him, and move on with my life. Deep down, I knew that was never going to happen. Only the insane could forget someone as beautiful as him.
The phone rang and I rolled over on the couch with a groan. One of the worst hangovers I had had in months quickly kicking in full force. I looked over at my phone, debating answering it or not. It was Spencer, which made me wonder how much time had passed. A night? A day? Two days? I couldn't be sure, it all felt the same. With a small sigh I grabbed the still buzzing phone, answering in a tired voice.
"I'm so fucking sorry B, I didn't mean to, I just- I- I had to, ya know?" My brows knitted together and I stared at the slightly water stained ceiling above me as Spencer spewed nonsense. On top of it all, he was crying, sobbing panicked words that I wasn't sure I cared to know about. All I could think was that I was hungry. Damn hungry, and I wanted some fucking food, not a conversation with a crying wreck. "I didn't know he would do it, I just- I was so fucking pissed at you, I had to do it."
"Spencer, what the fuck are you talking about?" He gave a sigh, and I could see him running his hands through his hair, wiping tears from his eyes and off his cheeks.
"The night after I caught you and… I, I just had to tell him. And, he was pissed that I called, and even more pissed about what you two had been doing than I was, and I'm pretty sure that's why you haven't heard from…Well, I just…I didn't know how to handle myself, I didn't know what to do and I'm pretty sure I've fucked you over." A pause after the hurried rambling. "I'm sorry." I rubbed my face, trying to figure out what it was he had gone on about. It just didn't make any since at all, just a bunch of rushed and hysteric nonsense.
A guilty voice responded. "I told Jon. I told him about everything, and you still haven't seen…Him, you haven't seen him yet, have you?" I closed my eyes. He told Jon. He told him that Ryan and I had been sneaking behind their backs, had been fucking without them having any clue as to what we were doing. Every last thing we had spent so much time hiding, covering all of those tracks, making a million lies and cover-ups, a complete waste. In one night, everything was over and done with. And I knew Jon, he wasn't quite as forgiving as Spencer.
"No. No, Spencer, you didn't?" Silence, and my hangover was coming back ten times worse. The weight of the world and all that I had done piling in my thoughts, wearing me down to nothing. Leaving me alone, in the dark and in the cold. I forced myself to stand, my body begging for a drink, anything that could try to numb the pain, if only a little.
"You haven't seen him then. God, B, I'm so sorry. I know it's my fault. If I hadn't called-" He stopped himself, taking a deep breath. "You would still be happy." I stumbled in the kitchen, digging through the cabinets until I found a bottle that I could bring to my thirsty lips.
"Spencer, I wouldn't have been happy. Not truly. I love him, of course I do, but I don't think you would have forgiven me if he had come back. It's better this way," I took a long sip from my bottle. "And I'm happy, to have you as a friend, and nothing else." I tried to make sense of the situation, but my voice didn't sound convincing, and I knew that he could tell my heart wasn't in it. I rested my elbows on the counter, my head falling in my hands. "I'm happy."
"Right. Well, if you see Ryan, give me a call. And Brendon?"
"You two really were perfect for each other. If you see him again, don't you dare let him go. You deserve to be genuinely happy. You don't deserve anything less than, and you shouldn't be me. Brendon, don't you fucking dare act like me." I let my head fall to the table, hating the sound of self loathing that Spencer's voice dripped with.
"Bye, B."
He hung up, and I dropped my phone, allowing myself to fall to the wooden floor below.
Time passed, though it was impossible to count. Just a blur of wasted time. Spencer had mumbled something about 'on a bender' when I saw him last, but it wasn't clear as to whether he was talking about him or me. My thick blinds had a crack in them, letting the morning light flood into my room and wake me up. The clock flashed seven, and I couldn't help but groan at the thought of being up that early without my consent. The only reason I bought the crappy curtains was to block the light of the happy outside world out of the world I had built for myself in my small flat, and it couldn't even fucking do that.
I rolled over, squeezing my eyes shut. I didn't want to get up. I just wanted to sleep for a while longer. A few hours. Or days.
"You really aren't that observant, are you?" I needed a drink. I opened my eyes, forcing myself to sit up.
"What the fuck are you doing here?" Maybe it wasn't right to get mad at the blinds, they were trying to do their job and got pushed aside.
"I needed to see you again." He brushed his hair out of his face, tucking it behind his ear in an attempt to tame the madness. The motion made my stomach flip.
But I would never tell him that. "Spencer told me what you did. I'm not sure what to do. At this moment, I'm not sure if I want to kill you, or fuck you."
He closed his eyes. "Do you still love me? Knowing what I did?" I stared into his eyes, wondering if he was fucking kidding me.
"Like I could ever stop." He looked down at his feet, reaching to scratch the back of his head. He was stunning in the light, something I always admired.
"I didn't mean to, you know? I was thinking of you, and I just, I couldn't control myself."
"Is that supposed to be a compliment, or an insult?" I raised a brow at him, and he sighed, looking around the room.
"Does it matter?" He let out a bitter laugh, the sound making me sick. "I just, I don't want you thinking I like Jon in anyway other than a friend."
My brows furrowed. "What are you talking about?" He crossed the room, sitting at the edge of my bed.
"You still love me?" He repeated and I nodded, biting my lower lip at how close he was sitting next to me. I could feel his warmth, and it was intoxicating.
"Of course I do." He pressed his lips against mine, moving them slowly against my own. The feeling left a burning sensation, something I could never get enough of. I pushed my lips even closer, begging for more warmth. He smiled into the kiss, and I tangled my hands in his soft hair, relishing in the moment, hoping it would never end. He ran his tongue along my bottom lip, and I opened my mouth, letting him slip his tongue inside. His hands rested on my hips, his thumbs rubbing small circles on my exposed skin. His tongue explored my mouth, and I let out a soft moan, loving every minute with him. No, I could never forget him. Never stop loving him. He was too perfect in every way.
He pulled away, and I let out a small whimper at the loss of contact. "Fuck." He wiped the small amount of spit that had made it's way to his chin.
"Ryan." I moved in to get another kiss, and he turned his head, giving a small sigh. "Ry, what's wrong?" Tears started to form in his eyes, and he refused to look at me.
"We…We can't do this anymore." I stared at him, my brows knitted together in confusion as I stared into his shining honey eyes.
"What do you mean? Of course we can. Spencer doesn't care, and Jon doesn't have to know." I leaned in again, and he moved away.
"No, Brendon. We can't do this anymore." His voice was shaking, cracking as tears started to roll down his cheeks.
"Ryan, what's standing in our way?" He stared at me, and I stared back. He stood close to the door, and it made it all the harder.
"B, I-" He took a deep breath. "I don't love you anymore."


So, this will have one more part. If that helps any. Still not completely sure how to end it, but I'm guessing everyone wants a happy ending?

snake56tongue: Thank you, I appreciate it.

TheAnonymous: Yeah, not sure how often he gets to be that way.

AnotherKnifeInMyHand: He did kind of have a reason, but yeah.

rydenlove123: Okay, but only for one more chapter.

PartyPoison: I've decided on three.
Thought it was time to jazz things up a little.

-xoxo Pansy.
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