Categories > Celebrities > Panic! At The Disco > More Than Just A Roommate
Spencer's Surprise Guest
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Chapter 3
As the weeks went by I saw Brendon less and less. Most of the time he stayed holed up in his room, or out doing whatever it was that he did. We rarely spoke, save for asking each other to move out of the way or what time to meet Spencer. We made our own food and ate separately, avoiding contact at all costs. I sometimes felt awkward coming out of my room, in my own house. Brendon was always pleasant to Spencer and Jon, who couldn't get enough of him. 'Brendon did this 'Brendon did that' 'Brendon is so funny'. Brendon Brendon Brendon. The worst thing was, I couldn't even fault him. Aside from his overly jerk-ish behaviousr, there were no flaws. He was, annoyingly, super talented. He dressed well, he looked good, he helped little old ladies cross the street. But when it came to me, for whatever reason, he was a huge asshole. It's not as if he was staying in my house, using my fucking water and electric. And my car. That's another thing. Whenever we have band practise, usually at Spencer's, I had to take him in my car. Which is why I was currently surrounded by a tension so thick you could cut it with a knife. I sighed audibly, irritated. We pulled up at a red light, and it was taking forever to change. I sighed again, frumming my fingers on the black leather steering wheel. I could feel him watching me, and I squirmed uncomfortably in the black leather seats. The lights changed to orange, and I got ready to go when they turned red again.
"What the fuck?" I exclaimed, tapping my fingers and sighing in annnoyance.
"Could you stop that, it's not getting you anywhere". I turned to face him, eyebrow raised, but he was looking away. All I could see was the back of his tight black shirt.
"Stop what?" I asked, even more irritated now that he had decided to be an ass.
"Drumming your fingers, sighing and cussing. Seriously, its fucking annoying" He responded, still not looking at me.
"Yeah, well this fucking traffic is annoying. And it's my fucking car, so I'll do what I like thankyou very much" I retorted, as the lights finally turned green and I could pull out accross the street and down the road to where Spencer's house was. He slammed the door as he left and I muttered the correct amount of obscenities as I entered Spencer's house, lugging both guitars because he flounced off and left his. I walked through the always open door of Spencer's house and into a picture filled hallway. I stopped momentarily to glance at a picture of Spencer and I. It was taken towards the end of high school, with my new polaroid camera. He'd insisted we hold it at arms length so we could both be in it, even though I didn't want to be. We were standing next to the oak tree next to his moms house, grinning like idiots. It was one of my favourite pictures of the two of us.
"Are you just going to stand there?" Brendon asked from the other room. I rolled my eyes, heading in there and handing him his guitar. He didn't respond, instead just took it and placed it on the brown leather sofa beside him.
"Oh, you're welcome" I said sarcastically, sitting beside Jon on the opposite sofa. He rolled his eyes. Rolled his eyes. I carried his fucking guitar in from the car because he forgot it, and he rolled his eyes.
"Oh, hey guys" Spencer entered the room with his drumsticks, breaking the tension.
"Hey Spence" I said, smiling. Brendon waved and Jon nodded, grinning.
"Lets start with the new one, shall we?"
The rehearsal, as ever, was awkward. I took my place on the red square rug that was our stage in the centre of Spencer's music room. There were two brown leather sofa's, either side of the rug, and a small table in the corner. Then there was the amps, six of them, and all of the wires, spare drum parts and various scraps of paper littering the floor. Spencer took his place behind his drum set, and tapped the sticks together as a cue. We broke out into the melody, and Brendon started to sing. If I closed my eyes, I could pretend that he didn't hate me. I could pretend we were great friends, me and this guy with the amazing voice. But then I opened them again, and saw Brendon standing as far away from me as he possibly could whilst still standing on the rug. I sighed, shaking my head. I just didn't get it. I'd let him stay in my house, without charge, I'd take him places in my car, without charge. Why was he being such a jerk? I needed to talk with him. I hated talking, but I hated living among tension you needed a chainsaw to cut even more. I don't argue with people generally, I've never argued with Spencer or Jon, and people I have argued with I still don't talk to now. The only reason Brendon was different, I suppose, was because he was the one who was going to make or break us.
"Ryan? Hello? You still in there?". I snapped out of my thoughts to see Jon waving his hands infront of my face.
"Huh? Oh, sorry man" I apologized, shaking my head.
"It's okay, we weren't playing. Spencer got a phonecall and ran out of the room" He said, putting his bass down. I nodded, glancing at Brendon. He seemed pretty lost in his own thoughts too. Spencer walked through the door, with a huge grin on his face.
"What's that smile for?" I asked, raising an eyebrow at him. He grinned again.
"Let's just say, we're going to have a visitor soon. Let's get playing!" He exclaimed, jumping behind his drums. I shrugged, adjusting my strings and strumming once.
"Hey, um, I thought of a name for that song by the way" Brendon was looking at Spencer, who raised a questioning eyebrow. "I Write Sins, Not Tragedies"
"I like it" Spencer smiled. It did fit well, actually, but I wasn't giving him the satisfaction.
"I write sins not tragedies it is then!" Jon exclaimed, as we began to play. We finished playing and there was a knock on the door. Spencer was grinnng so much I was actually concerned that he may split his face in two. He re-entered the room, followed by someone else. I couldn't see their face because of the hood they were wearing, but I immediately knew who it was. Purple high top trainers, overly skinny black jeans and a purple zip up hoodie. I didn't even have to wait for him to take the hood down to know it was Pete Wentz. I gawped.
"But...what...how?" Jon tried. Spencer grinned even more, because apparently that was possible.
"I bumped into Spencer in a bar the other day. I was telling him that I hadn't found any bands to sign to my label, and he was explaining that he couldn't find anywhere that would sign his band. It sounded perfect, so I wanted to hear it" Pete said, taking a seat.
I managed to recover enough to say "Wow". Wow. Wow. Of all the unitelligable things I could have said, I chose wow. Talk about making me sound like a total first class imbecile. At least I looked okay.
"Ryan Ross I'm guessing? The brains behind the operation. Spencer said you were the flamboyant one" Pete said, grinning.
"Spencer! Can you not tell everyone you meet that I am flamboyant, jesus!" I could have sworn I heard Brendon laugh.
"Don't worry about it, flamboyant is good" Pete flashed me a grin, and I coughed nervously. "So, play me a song"
As the weeks went by I saw Brendon less and less. Most of the time he stayed holed up in his room, or out doing whatever it was that he did. We rarely spoke, save for asking each other to move out of the way or what time to meet Spencer. We made our own food and ate separately, avoiding contact at all costs. I sometimes felt awkward coming out of my room, in my own house. Brendon was always pleasant to Spencer and Jon, who couldn't get enough of him. 'Brendon did this 'Brendon did that' 'Brendon is so funny'. Brendon Brendon Brendon. The worst thing was, I couldn't even fault him. Aside from his overly jerk-ish behaviousr, there were no flaws. He was, annoyingly, super talented. He dressed well, he looked good, he helped little old ladies cross the street. But when it came to me, for whatever reason, he was a huge asshole. It's not as if he was staying in my house, using my fucking water and electric. And my car. That's another thing. Whenever we have band practise, usually at Spencer's, I had to take him in my car. Which is why I was currently surrounded by a tension so thick you could cut it with a knife. I sighed audibly, irritated. We pulled up at a red light, and it was taking forever to change. I sighed again, frumming my fingers on the black leather steering wheel. I could feel him watching me, and I squirmed uncomfortably in the black leather seats. The lights changed to orange, and I got ready to go when they turned red again.
"What the fuck?" I exclaimed, tapping my fingers and sighing in annnoyance.
"Could you stop that, it's not getting you anywhere". I turned to face him, eyebrow raised, but he was looking away. All I could see was the back of his tight black shirt.
"Stop what?" I asked, even more irritated now that he had decided to be an ass.
"Drumming your fingers, sighing and cussing. Seriously, its fucking annoying" He responded, still not looking at me.
"Yeah, well this fucking traffic is annoying. And it's my fucking car, so I'll do what I like thankyou very much" I retorted, as the lights finally turned green and I could pull out accross the street and down the road to where Spencer's house was. He slammed the door as he left and I muttered the correct amount of obscenities as I entered Spencer's house, lugging both guitars because he flounced off and left his. I walked through the always open door of Spencer's house and into a picture filled hallway. I stopped momentarily to glance at a picture of Spencer and I. It was taken towards the end of high school, with my new polaroid camera. He'd insisted we hold it at arms length so we could both be in it, even though I didn't want to be. We were standing next to the oak tree next to his moms house, grinning like idiots. It was one of my favourite pictures of the two of us.
"Are you just going to stand there?" Brendon asked from the other room. I rolled my eyes, heading in there and handing him his guitar. He didn't respond, instead just took it and placed it on the brown leather sofa beside him.
"Oh, you're welcome" I said sarcastically, sitting beside Jon on the opposite sofa. He rolled his eyes. Rolled his eyes. I carried his fucking guitar in from the car because he forgot it, and he rolled his eyes.
"Oh, hey guys" Spencer entered the room with his drumsticks, breaking the tension.
"Hey Spence" I said, smiling. Brendon waved and Jon nodded, grinning.
"Lets start with the new one, shall we?"
The rehearsal, as ever, was awkward. I took my place on the red square rug that was our stage in the centre of Spencer's music room. There were two brown leather sofa's, either side of the rug, and a small table in the corner. Then there was the amps, six of them, and all of the wires, spare drum parts and various scraps of paper littering the floor. Spencer took his place behind his drum set, and tapped the sticks together as a cue. We broke out into the melody, and Brendon started to sing. If I closed my eyes, I could pretend that he didn't hate me. I could pretend we were great friends, me and this guy with the amazing voice. But then I opened them again, and saw Brendon standing as far away from me as he possibly could whilst still standing on the rug. I sighed, shaking my head. I just didn't get it. I'd let him stay in my house, without charge, I'd take him places in my car, without charge. Why was he being such a jerk? I needed to talk with him. I hated talking, but I hated living among tension you needed a chainsaw to cut even more. I don't argue with people generally, I've never argued with Spencer or Jon, and people I have argued with I still don't talk to now. The only reason Brendon was different, I suppose, was because he was the one who was going to make or break us.
"Ryan? Hello? You still in there?". I snapped out of my thoughts to see Jon waving his hands infront of my face.
"Huh? Oh, sorry man" I apologized, shaking my head.
"It's okay, we weren't playing. Spencer got a phonecall and ran out of the room" He said, putting his bass down. I nodded, glancing at Brendon. He seemed pretty lost in his own thoughts too. Spencer walked through the door, with a huge grin on his face.
"What's that smile for?" I asked, raising an eyebrow at him. He grinned again.
"Let's just say, we're going to have a visitor soon. Let's get playing!" He exclaimed, jumping behind his drums. I shrugged, adjusting my strings and strumming once.
"Hey, um, I thought of a name for that song by the way" Brendon was looking at Spencer, who raised a questioning eyebrow. "I Write Sins, Not Tragedies"
"I like it" Spencer smiled. It did fit well, actually, but I wasn't giving him the satisfaction.
"I write sins not tragedies it is then!" Jon exclaimed, as we began to play. We finished playing and there was a knock on the door. Spencer was grinnng so much I was actually concerned that he may split his face in two. He re-entered the room, followed by someone else. I couldn't see their face because of the hood they were wearing, but I immediately knew who it was. Purple high top trainers, overly skinny black jeans and a purple zip up hoodie. I didn't even have to wait for him to take the hood down to know it was Pete Wentz. I gawped.
"But...what...how?" Jon tried. Spencer grinned even more, because apparently that was possible.
"I bumped into Spencer in a bar the other day. I was telling him that I hadn't found any bands to sign to my label, and he was explaining that he couldn't find anywhere that would sign his band. It sounded perfect, so I wanted to hear it" Pete said, taking a seat.
I managed to recover enough to say "Wow". Wow. Wow. Of all the unitelligable things I could have said, I chose wow. Talk about making me sound like a total first class imbecile. At least I looked okay.
"Ryan Ross I'm guessing? The brains behind the operation. Spencer said you were the flamboyant one" Pete said, grinning.
"Spencer! Can you not tell everyone you meet that I am flamboyant, jesus!" I could have sworn I heard Brendon laugh.
"Don't worry about it, flamboyant is good" Pete flashed me a grin, and I coughed nervously. "So, play me a song"
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