A Rydon one-shot.
"This was no accident. This was a therapeutic chain of events."--Panic! at the Disco.
Brendon deeply inhaled the intoxicating smoke that drifted softly from the orange glow of the cigarette that laced between his two fingers. He blew a puff out; white, small gusts circling the frost bitten air. The winter snowflakes danced upon his tongue, as Brendon stuck it out, creating one last memory of what he'll miss most in this world filled with secret wonders and hidden pleasures. He dropped his cigarette, that was illuminating the polar night in Chicago, onto the snow-soaked balcony railing. He smashed it slowly, to savor every lasting breath he could take. After today, there would be no more Brendon Urie.
He snatched the liquor bottle, sitting upon a chair. He had brought the alcohol out earlier, deciding if he were to actually do this. But, with one glimpse upon faded photographs, he was determined to fade from existence.
Brendon slowly uncapped the lid and chugged the sweetly bitter taste of intoxication as it streamed with a burning sensation down his choking throat. He looked at the bottle with distaste apparent on his features, but began drinking the revolting liquid again, anyway. Soon, only miniscule droplets were the only thing left from the bottom of the bottle as Brendon involuntarily dropped the vial from his clammy hands, shattering glass into infinite fragments upon the cement. He staggered this way and that, with a buzz in his veins. He didn't realize that it would happen this quickly, but he was satisfied with the results, nonetheless.
Brendon drunkenly hopped onto the balcony railing, with wobbly legs and his nerves prickling under his pale flesh, unsure if this is an action he's willing to take. He looked down to the white world below, with a infinite flashes of colors and lights twinkling below in the busy city. Little did the people of Chicago know, that Brendon Urie would be part of the ground, soon.
He positioned himself upon the balcony railing, gripping the roof of his apartment with tight hands. He inhaled sharply as the acid in his stomach churned as the world began to swirl with the flashing colors and white snow whirling around all about. He felt sick, almost as if he were to puke right then and there. But the twisted desires that kept playing over in his head made it worthwhile.
Brendon tried to think about why he was doing this to himself. To his family. To his friends.
And then the world suddenly froze and he seemed penetrated to the railing as thoughts of Ryan passed through his clouded mind. What would Ryan think of him? Would he think he were selfish? How would he feel about this? Would he be angry with him? Would sorrow shower over him, just like every single day Brendon wished Ryan were his? And the thought of him never being with Ryan killed each beat his heart ever pulsed. He knew Ryan would never love him, therefore, what's the point of living if you can't live with the one you love? Sure, they're best friends and all, but Brendon wants more. Brendon wants him. But, Brendon knows Ryan will never be his.
So, Brendon releases one hand from the grip of the roof, and it dangles in the air, with the cold wind whipping around his goose bump infested body. And suddenly, he hears a distant call for his name. The voice, so sweet, so gentle, that he thinks about running to the lovely sound and soaking in it forever, but he quickly refrained himself, thinking it was just a hallucination.
And then he heard his name again, from the same sweet, worried voice as before. This time it was louder and followed with a slam of a door. Who was this voice? It seemed anxious and worried as he heard the fast shuffling and squeaking of Converse on tile. It was familiar, yes. But, somehow, quite indescribable. It was... It was Ryan's voice! Yes, Ryan! Brendon smiled at the divine hallucination and was rather glad that Ryan's voice was the last thing he'd hear before death plagued over him, yet quite sad that it was only his imagination.
"Brendon?" Ryan's voice called over the harsh wind.
Brendon smirked, willing to communicate with his delusion.
"Yes?" he answered, smirking.
"Brendon, get down from there! You might fall!"
"That's the point!"
"Brendon, get down!" His voice was rather demanding with swirls of desperation. And it scared Brendon. It sounded too real.
Brendon whipped his body around and to his surprise, it was real. Ryan was standing before him, with despair clinging in his intense, brown eyes.
"Get down from there now, Brendon."
Brendon just looked quite shocked that Ryan was actually there before him.
"Why?" Brendon asked, with spite lingering to his words.
"Because, I'm not going to let you kill yourself! I'm your best friend. Don't do this to me! Please!"
"But that's all I'm ever going to be, isn't it, Ryan? You're best friend."
"What do you mean?"
Suddenly, Brendon jumped from the railing and in front of Ryan, as Ryan sighed in relief.
"I love you, Ryan."
And Brendon's lips clashed onto Ryan's, sending waves of emotion rocketing through both of them. But, neither one stopped or rejected. Suddenly, Brendon pulled away.
"Goodbye, Ryan. Never forget me, love."
And he hopped upon the railing again and jumped, as desperate screams were followed behind him along with a sorrow filled,
"I love you, too."
Do with it as you like.