Pete meets Ryan
Many years and many guitar picks later I met Ryan Ross. I had seen pictures before I had actually met him in person. The pictures did him no justice. He was taller than expected and had a thin delicate build. His face was soft and had warm features. I shook his hand and introduced myself. He had long womanly hands decorated with calluses from years of guitar playing.
You may have stopped and asked yourself, "What do these two stories have in common?" or "Why is Pete randomly telling me pointless stories from his life?" I would have thought the same thing if I were in your position. That's the purpose of this Fan Non Fic, to tell you all the truth and nothing but the truth.
I never thought much of a so-called "Ryan Ross" for many weeks. I thought he was quiet and smart, but nothing about him struck me as being different. He was affectionate towards his friends and could hold a political conversation. Intrigued by his soft-spoken yet ingenious personality I invited him out to a club with my boys and I. He didn't drink anything, but water. I tried to set him up with a pretty girl to take back to his room he wouldn't have it. Then I thought I had the idea and tried to set him up with a pretty boy, he still wasn't impressed. Puzzled by this boy I continued to get to know him. He didn't act like a rock star, or even a young man. He was calm and collected reminding me of my mother. He left the club at about 1 a.m. simply stating he had to "Get up early the next morning." I bid him good-bye and downed another round of shots not letting him stray far from my thoughts.
The weekend after the "Club Incident" his band and mine played a small show together. Everyone arrived at the venue early. We jumped around backstage like savages. Instruments, bodies, clothes, and food items were strewn about everywhere. The entire Panic! At The Disco crew was there with the exception of one key member, Ryan. He had locked himself in his dressing room too busy with his own life to party with us. As much as I hated to admit it, I missed him. I enjoyed his company and his pretty child like face. I led myself to his room and knocked on the door. He didn't answer me. I knocked harder, still no response. Annoyed and confused I pushed on the door. I felt its old hinges bend with my weight. I took a few steps back and then threw myself at the door. I landed on Ryan's dressing room floor a top the broken door. I looked up and got the sight of my life. An image that could describe that entire year and every year I spent with Ryan that followed it.