Categories > Celebrities > Panic! At The Disco > Love Is Only Love

Chapter 4: It's hard to know what's real when it all seems wrong

by luckysgc921 1 Reviews

Ryan

Category: Panic! At The Disco - Rating: R - Genres: Angst, Crossover, Fantasy, Romance - Characters:  - Warnings: [?] [X] - Published: 2006/10/07 - Updated: 2006/10/08 - 1333 words

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"Hey space case. Wake UP!" Ryan jumped and snapped his head around to meet the eyes of his friend and band mate Spencer Smith who was staring at him with a look that clearly said 'what the fuck?'
"yea Spence?" Ryan responded, while trying to act like Spencer hadn't been calling his name for at least the last three minutes.
"I said, what do you want to drink?"
"oh..uhh...water'll be fine."
"ok...you can go back to pluto or whatever planet you were on now." Spencer smirked as he walked off towards the bar with everyone's drink orders.
"Pluto isn't a planet anymore!" Brendon yelled towards his retreating back which caused everyone at the table to crack up in either drunken or just excited laughter, in some cases it was a mix of both.
Ryan's eyes wandered steathily around the party that was in full swing. Everyone here had something to celebrate tonight--whether they won something themselves or they were connected to someone who won something it was a good night for them. It was a good night in general, the VMA's always provided an excuse for the music industry to take over the city it was being held in for one night, and tonight it was back in Manhattan. Tonight Manhattan belonged to rock stars and rabble rousers. Or at least that's the word some old lady had yelled at them as they made their way into the club. Although, what a lady who had to have been at least 70 was walking her dog around midtown at nearly midnight was beyond him.
Ryan abruptly stopped his perusal of the club as a large bottle of water landed in his lap...hard.
"asshole!" he gasped out and glared at his supposed best friend.
"what?" Spencer said snickering.
"ugh, nothing. I'll be back." Ryan spat out and got up stalking off towards the stairs that led to the VIP Congac Room where he had seen people disappear over the course of the evening. He needed to reflect on the everything that had happend and apparently he wasn't allowed to do that in peace and quiet. If he was being competely honest with himself he would realize what a stupid statement that was to make in the 40/40 club. There was no peace and quiet in this club, only incredibly loud, fairly badly mixed beats. Sliding the door open and pushing the purple silk curtains aside he looked in and was relieved to see no one there except for a bartender.
"thank god. finally." Ryan muttered to himself as he nodded at the barkeep while simultaneously fishing out a pack of cigarettes that he was eventually planning on quitting sometime in the near future and reflected on how hypocritical it was of him to be smoking...but whatever. Who really gives a fuck. "Brendon's the singer. I just have to write something for the fans to think they relate to." Lighting up and inhaling deeply he flopped down onto one of the huge purple couches they had stuffed into this tiny room set in the back upstairs corner of the club. He also realized that this was the first smoke he had had in nearly 24 hours.
"How the HELL did I get here?!" he finally screamed outloud not really caring who heard. And a quick glance at the bartender confirmed that he was paid too well to even blink at something like that. Today had been so completely frustrating that he hadn't even had time for a fucking cigarette. He got beaten out of bed at 10 this morning by Brendon, after having already been half-awake for nearly five hours already at that point, got showered, threw some crap clothes on and went to eat with Brendon and Liz, Brendon's friend. After breakfast they headed back upstairs to screw around and basically do nothing until three o'clock.
'at least I got some craptastic writing done. I must seem like a tool to some of the fans, who the hell doesn't write anything after this much time has passed. oh yea, me.' Ryan thought self consciously to himself while taking a long drag on his ciggarette. 'then there was this whole VMA experience overall. MTV really needs to get their shit together. I don't think I want to see the playback of our performance. I could barely hear myself and all I had to do was sing some harmonies, I don't know how Brendon managed to get through that song and stay on key, at least I hope it was on key. Who doesn't put up monitors at the front of the stage?!'
Ryan stabbed out his finished cigarette violently and glared at it as though the filter was the producer who apparently thought that the 'kids' didn't deserve the same ammount of tech bands like The Killers or Christina Aquilera got.
'we must have sounded like total ametuers. and what the HELL was that with the Sixx...or whatever his name was. That HAD to have been set up. Its like whoever knew we were going to win figured that since we were the underdogs they could fuck with us. Its NOT fair. When are people going to take us seriously?'
"and when am I going to stop whining like a freaking child?" Ryan said outloud disgustedly to himself. "blah." he added while running his hands over his face and flopping back into the couch cushions. Apparently tonight the ceiling held the answers to all the worlds questions as far as Ryan Ross was concered because as of this moment he had no intention of moving a muscle. Because so far today the one really good thing to happen was that other then the very short encounter this morning he hadn't seen Pete.
'and if I go out there I'm going to run smack into him with the way my luck has been running lately.'
"and I don't want that." Ryan answered himself outloud angrily.
'right Ross. keep telling yourself that.' was shot right back into his head by a voice that sounded aggravatingly like Brendon. 'wonderful. I love the kid, but I really do not want him as my subconscious. He has enough of his own shit to sort out. What with his "friend" and all.' Ryan thought and snickered to himself thrilled to have taken his mind off of his little..debate for even a few seconds. 'but your going to have to think about it soon RyRo. At least acknowledge it.'
"oh screw this." Ryan said standing up and leaving the room after realizing that being by himself would just cause him to think even harder on what he didn't really want to be thinking of at all. Not to mention convince a certain bartender that Panic! at the Disco's guitar player was few fries short if you know what I mean.
'they were probably about to send a search party after me anyway.' Ryan thought ironically to himself. He was supposed to be the quiet, shy, and artistic one. Yet whenever he tried to go off by himself he was told he was exhibiting strange behavior. His friends really needed to get their roles in the band straight.
He continued down the hallway without really looking where he was going, weaving in and out of random people; some famous, some most definitly just lucky enough to get in here tonight. As he turned the small corner to head to the balcony and subsequent stairs the next thing he knew he was in pain and staring at the ceiling again. Moving his eyes he was shocked to be staring at the back of the exact person he had been despretely trying to avoid for the past few hours. Making out with Ashlee Simpson.
'well fuck me. I called that one didn't I?' Ryan thought as he let his head smack back down onto the club floor and closed his eyes in exasperation. 'the best part is...he hasn't even noticed me.'
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