Categories > Celebrities > Panic! At The Disco > Bang the Doldrums
Ryan looked over at his Sidekick and sighed.
“Who was it that called earlier?”
“Uh… no one.” He answered shakily.
“Right." Pete tugged his jeans over his hips. “You know you can’t lie to me. It was Brendon, wasn’t it?”
“Yeah,” Ryan confessed as he sat at the edge of the bed observing the figure dressing in front of him.
“So, I’m assuming he knows?”
Ryan bit his lip.
“Hey, that’s fine. Tell whoever you want. It’s not going to change anything.”
“What do you mean by that?”
“Ryan, stop trying to pull that innocent shit on me. We all know you’re far from it.” He shook his head, swinging his long bangs slightly. “If you think that just because you told your band about us, you’re going to guilt trip me- It’s not going to work.”
“I’m not trying to guilt-trip you, Pete. It’s just- It’s not the same. I don’t even think you care how I feel…”
He didn’t even react to Ryan’s comment. “Well, sorry for having to leave so soon.” He threw his shirt over his head. “But I have things to do,” he added.
“And people, evidently.”
He shrugged. “I’ll see you around, Ryan.” He grabbed his beanie from the floor and placed it snugly atop his head.
Ryan flopped back onto the mattress and let out a huff after he heard the door close with a loud click.
Fucking Pete Wentz.
--- --- ---
Brendon groaned loudly, slapping his forehead and letting his hand drip down his features. “This fuckin’ sucks. This really fuckin’ sucks.” Brendon had been pacing around his house for almost an hour. Not being on tour had really bummed him out and the conversation with Ryan (or lack thereof) didn't help.
He walked around his empty house slowly, belting out the first tune that came to mind. Snapping his fingers in sync to the beat, he shimmied over to the kitchen.
"Let it gooooo. There's no waaaay you can save it now. Get back, you know, that the city is burnin'. So the story gooooooes. It makes you wonder..."
He stuck out his lip as he opened the fridge. He let the cooled air prickle his face before slamming it shut. He’d already drained an entire case of Capri Sun and not having his coveted sacharine liquid made him upset.
Upset? Brendon was upset that he didn't have any /Capri Sun/? What was wrong with him? “Fuck this shit. I’m going out.”
--- --- ---
“Hey, have you heard from Brendon?”
“No, not since yesterday. Why?”
“Well, he called me earlier today, but I- was busy." Ryan cleared his throat. "I tried calling him back... but his phone’s off.”
“Maybe he doesn’t want to talk?” Spencer suggested.
“Spence, when does he not want to talk?”
“Good point. But I’m sure he’s fine, Ryan.”
“I guess…" Ryan bit at his lip. "Thanks, Spencer.”
“Sure.”
“…Um... I’m just gonna go and check on him anyway." Ryan said quickly. "I’ll talk to you later.”
“Bye.”
Ryan closed his phone and ran his free hand through his hair. He dispelled a small sigh and went to go find his car keys.
--- --- ---
Brendon fumbled around the door knob before he finally unlocked it. He let the door shut behind him. He winced at the sound, wrinkling his face in pain. He opened his eyes only to find another pair glaring back at him.
“R-Ryan?” he stuttered. “What are you doing here? How’d you get in my house?”
Ryan tossed the tarnished key at Brendon’s chest. “The spare key, jack ass.”
The light metal bounced off the boy and fell to the floor with a clink. Brendon eyed the key glinting in the dark from the ray of moonlight that perforated through the curtains before dragging his vision back to Ryan’s face.
“Okay, first off-“ He lifted his hands. “-I don’t appreciate you throwing shit at me… and two, you never answered the first question. Why are you here?”
“I came because I was worried.”
“You shouldn’t be. I’m a big boy.”
“Exactly. You’re a boy- A fucking immature little boy," Ryan spat. "What were you thinking, Brendon!”
“I was thinking… I wanted to get drunk and then go home and pass the fuuuuck out.”
“You don’t even care, do you?”
“Care about what?”
“Do you not remember the last time you pulled this shit? You can’t do this!”
“I can do… whatever I want.”
“You promised me you wouldn’t do this again.”
He placed a palm to his forehead and squinted his eyes shut. “Fuck,” he cussed. “I really don’t feel like talking to you about this right now. I’m going to sleep.”
“Brendon!”
“Ryan!” He mocked. “I’m done talking to you. Get out of my house." Brendon brushed past Ryan, knocking his shoulder.
Ryan turned and grabbed Brendon's arm. "No, I'm not letting this go!"
Brendon whipped his arm from in between his lanky fingers. "Don't touch me, Ryan." He uttered before turning away again from the slender boy. "I don't want to fight with you."
Ryan shoved at Brendon causing him to stumble forward. Brendon refused to turn back and look at Ryan. He kept on walking, ignoring him the best he could. Ryan continued to periodically push him as he ambled onward. Brendon made it to his bedroom, but the constant friction of Ryan's hands against his back was aggravating. Ryan always knew what buttons not to press.
Brendon spun around and rammed Ryan into the wall near the door. "STOP IT, RYAN!" Brendon boomed, the fiery intenstiy in his eyes gleaming in the dim room.
Ryan sank down the wall, clutching his right shoulder. Brendon suddenly snapped from his angry state and knelt down to inspect his friend. "I-I'm sorry, Ryan. I- Are you okay?" He let out his hand, but Ryan rejected it.
"Fine, be a bitch. You can lie there for all I care." He flopped onto his bed and angrily piled the pillow over his head.
He didn't mean it. He did care... and he hated himself for that.
Fuck.
“Who was it that called earlier?”
“Uh… no one.” He answered shakily.
“Right." Pete tugged his jeans over his hips. “You know you can’t lie to me. It was Brendon, wasn’t it?”
“Yeah,” Ryan confessed as he sat at the edge of the bed observing the figure dressing in front of him.
“So, I’m assuming he knows?”
Ryan bit his lip.
“Hey, that’s fine. Tell whoever you want. It’s not going to change anything.”
“What do you mean by that?”
“Ryan, stop trying to pull that innocent shit on me. We all know you’re far from it.” He shook his head, swinging his long bangs slightly. “If you think that just because you told your band about us, you’re going to guilt trip me- It’s not going to work.”
“I’m not trying to guilt-trip you, Pete. It’s just- It’s not the same. I don’t even think you care how I feel…”
He didn’t even react to Ryan’s comment. “Well, sorry for having to leave so soon.” He threw his shirt over his head. “But I have things to do,” he added.
“And people, evidently.”
He shrugged. “I’ll see you around, Ryan.” He grabbed his beanie from the floor and placed it snugly atop his head.
Ryan flopped back onto the mattress and let out a huff after he heard the door close with a loud click.
Fucking Pete Wentz.
--- --- ---
Brendon groaned loudly, slapping his forehead and letting his hand drip down his features. “This fuckin’ sucks. This really fuckin’ sucks.” Brendon had been pacing around his house for almost an hour. Not being on tour had really bummed him out and the conversation with Ryan (or lack thereof) didn't help.
He walked around his empty house slowly, belting out the first tune that came to mind. Snapping his fingers in sync to the beat, he shimmied over to the kitchen.
"Let it gooooo. There's no waaaay you can save it now. Get back, you know, that the city is burnin'. So the story gooooooes. It makes you wonder..."
He stuck out his lip as he opened the fridge. He let the cooled air prickle his face before slamming it shut. He’d already drained an entire case of Capri Sun and not having his coveted sacharine liquid made him upset.
Upset? Brendon was upset that he didn't have any /Capri Sun/? What was wrong with him? “Fuck this shit. I’m going out.”
--- --- ---
“Hey, have you heard from Brendon?”
“No, not since yesterday. Why?”
“Well, he called me earlier today, but I- was busy." Ryan cleared his throat. "I tried calling him back... but his phone’s off.”
“Maybe he doesn’t want to talk?” Spencer suggested.
“Spence, when does he not want to talk?”
“Good point. But I’m sure he’s fine, Ryan.”
“I guess…" Ryan bit at his lip. "Thanks, Spencer.”
“Sure.”
“…Um... I’m just gonna go and check on him anyway." Ryan said quickly. "I’ll talk to you later.”
“Bye.”
Ryan closed his phone and ran his free hand through his hair. He dispelled a small sigh and went to go find his car keys.
--- --- ---
Brendon fumbled around the door knob before he finally unlocked it. He let the door shut behind him. He winced at the sound, wrinkling his face in pain. He opened his eyes only to find another pair glaring back at him.
“R-Ryan?” he stuttered. “What are you doing here? How’d you get in my house?”
Ryan tossed the tarnished key at Brendon’s chest. “The spare key, jack ass.”
The light metal bounced off the boy and fell to the floor with a clink. Brendon eyed the key glinting in the dark from the ray of moonlight that perforated through the curtains before dragging his vision back to Ryan’s face.
“Okay, first off-“ He lifted his hands. “-I don’t appreciate you throwing shit at me… and two, you never answered the first question. Why are you here?”
“I came because I was worried.”
“You shouldn’t be. I’m a big boy.”
“Exactly. You’re a boy- A fucking immature little boy," Ryan spat. "What were you thinking, Brendon!”
“I was thinking… I wanted to get drunk and then go home and pass the fuuuuck out.”
“You don’t even care, do you?”
“Care about what?”
“Do you not remember the last time you pulled this shit? You can’t do this!”
“I can do… whatever I want.”
“You promised me you wouldn’t do this again.”
He placed a palm to his forehead and squinted his eyes shut. “Fuck,” he cussed. “I really don’t feel like talking to you about this right now. I’m going to sleep.”
“Brendon!”
“Ryan!” He mocked. “I’m done talking to you. Get out of my house." Brendon brushed past Ryan, knocking his shoulder.
Ryan turned and grabbed Brendon's arm. "No, I'm not letting this go!"
Brendon whipped his arm from in between his lanky fingers. "Don't touch me, Ryan." He uttered before turning away again from the slender boy. "I don't want to fight with you."
Ryan shoved at Brendon causing him to stumble forward. Brendon refused to turn back and look at Ryan. He kept on walking, ignoring him the best he could. Ryan continued to periodically push him as he ambled onward. Brendon made it to his bedroom, but the constant friction of Ryan's hands against his back was aggravating. Ryan always knew what buttons not to press.
Brendon spun around and rammed Ryan into the wall near the door. "STOP IT, RYAN!" Brendon boomed, the fiery intenstiy in his eyes gleaming in the dim room.
Ryan sank down the wall, clutching his right shoulder. Brendon suddenly snapped from his angry state and knelt down to inspect his friend. "I-I'm sorry, Ryan. I- Are you okay?" He let out his hand, but Ryan rejected it.
"Fine, be a bitch. You can lie there for all I care." He flopped onto his bed and angrily piled the pillow over his head.
He didn't mean it. He did care... and he hated himself for that.
Fuck.
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