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Disclaimer: As real as Ryan Ross’s hatred for scarves and page-boy hats. Honestly, if you actually believe that, go stick your head in a well.

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Shattered Hearts ~ Chapter 1


The small silver bell tinkled overhead the wooden door as a single person stepped in, pausing to take a look at his surroundings. He had dark-brown hair, red-rimmed glasses, big brown eyes and a wide smile.

His name was Brendon, and he loved coming to the shop on the corner of Fourth and Freemont Street which was so fondly named Papercut Antiques. It was a sort of bric-a-brac shop, given the misleading name.

Brendon walked in and grinned at the man behind the counter. That was Jon, and he owned Papercut Antiques. Jon was a really laidback person, and also Brendon’s best friend. From the beard to the flip-flops, Brendon admired Jon for always knowing what to do. For always being there for the hyper, loud and outgoing Brendon.

Jon grinned back, setting down the feather-duster in his hand. Usually, he’d come in before Brendon and clean up a little. Brendon dropped his messenger bag on the floor and breathed in deeply, inhaling the scent of dusty pianos and fresh pine. Ah, the wonders of an antique store.

“It’s a new dawn, it’s a new day, it’s a new liiiiiiight... for the people of Summerlin!” sang Brendon, enthusiasm clearly evident in his voice. Also evident was the fact that Brendon had already drank more than three Red Bulls this morning.

Jon chuckled lightly and said, “Or probably just another boring day.” He tapped the glass-top table lightly with his fingertips and asked, “You really went overboard on those Red Bulls, haven’t you?”

Brendon nodded, grinning ear-to-ear and bouncing slightly on his heels. “Just four, but I feel so alive!” he said excitedly. “Plus the fact that I heard you picked up some new antiques!” Jon smiled haphazardly and pointed to his left.

“Second shelf on the left.”

Brendon squeaked and immediately ran to Jon, hugging him. “Oh thank you, thank you, thank you, thank you…”

“Y-You can s-stop choking me n-now,” coughed Jon and Brendon let go. He skipped over to the shelf and grinned. It was one of his favourite shelves; everything on it was an antique, but not too old. Just new enough. Brendon examined the items carefully. A phonograph, a weird green thing, a doll…. wait. A doll?

Brendon peered closer and almost gasped. It was a small porcelain doll, and it was the most beautiful thing Brendon had ever seen. Even though Brendon couldn’t make out most of the features from it being so dusty, he could tell that it had brown hair, a red-sort-of vest and white (or grey) slacks.

But the thing that struck Brendon the most was its piercing gold eyes. Its eyes were so sad, and life-like; Brendon felt like the doll was staring back at him. He reached out a finger and gently ran it across the doll’s face, feeling the cold porcelain beneath his finger.

“Woah,” breathed Brendon in awe. He slowly picked up the doll, careful not to drop the fragile figurine, and carried it to the table, setting it down. “This doll… it’s just, beautiful. Where’d you find her?” Jon looked at the doll and smiled.

“I found him at an old theatre house. It was closing down, and the owner asked me to take it,” explained Jon. Brendon raised an eyebrow in astonishment.

“It’s a boy? But it looks so-so… pretty,” sighed Brendon, gazing fondly at the doll. Jon shrugged.

“Yeah, it kinda does,” muttered Jon, glancing at the doll. “It’s a bisque doll, or a porcelain doll. Came with a note.” Jon ducked under the table, coming back up with a folded piece of paper. Brendon took the cream-coloured sheet and opened it.

“To whoever possesses my dear friend, I urge you; please take care of fragile Ryan here. Until you find the right person, keep him safe. Remember, a shattered heart can only be mended by the right hands. Yours truly, M. W.,” read Brendon aloud.

“Hmm. A shattered heart? What did the guy mean?” wondered Jon to no one in particular. Brendon shrugged, his attention now completely on the doll.

“Ryan. That’s a nice name,” smiled Brendon. Its golden eyes shined in the sunlight, making the bisque doll look puzzled, almost as if asking ‘will you take care of me?’ He leaned nearer and whispered, “You’re in safe hands.”


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This is the start of a new chaptered fic! Yay, my first one. ~throws cookies out~
Hopefully, I’ll know where this is going soon, because this is just an idea. So, tell me people, review! Review if you want me to continue. And rate. Hopefully.
You get cookies if you do. ~waves snickerdoodle in your face~

Thanks to ipanicdaily for that twisted MCR story “Dollhouse”. The whole concept of dolls just inspired this, but it’s not twisted in any way. Perhaps… nah.

Wow, this is a really long author’s note. Okay, review please?

Bye.

~Nick~