Categories > Celebrities > Panic! At The Disco > Salvation

Salvation the Sixth

by ManiCforPaniCgirl 0 reviews

Brendon Urie was nothing but an average young man, working a 9-5 office job to pay the rent, until the day he met Ryan Ross, a prostitute on the streets of Chicago who turned his world upside down ...

Category: Panic! At The Disco - Rating: PG-13 - Genres: Angst,Drama,Romance - Published: 2009-05-04 - Updated: 2009-05-04 - 1670 words


"Who could love me? I am out of my mind." He turned sharply into the breeze and began to walk, disappearing down the dark street until the stillness and the pitch swallowed him whole.

The days that followed were a blur of regret and guilt in the mind of Brendon Urie. He had called in sick to work, barely remembering to do so, and spent his time waking up in the afternoon and moping around the house in a state of constant lethargy. Each time the phone rang he had bolted to the kitchen and nearly clawed it off the hook, only to find it was a solicitor or even worse, his mother, ordering him to come home. The offer was starting to seem bitterly sweet. Hours, minutes, seconds… they dragged by as though the hands on the clock were taunting him, and the rooms laughed at their emptiness. Brendon dozed silently on the very couch where another had once lay, and was startled out of a light dream by the sound of the doorbell ringing.

“Who is it?” he called out, groaning and rolling off the couch to land lightly on his feet. He had nearly given up on seeing Ryan Ross again, and decided hope was better crushed while it could still do damage than left to lay around underfoot, always in the way. There was no answer but the bell rang again and again, a barrage of attacks on the poor button. Brendon picked up his pace and yanked the door open, irritated. “What the bloody fuck do you want and will you stop banging on my fucking doorb-”

“BRENNIE BOY!” roared a voice, and Brendon barely had time to look up before he was tackled around the middle by none other than Jon Walker and unceremoniously deposited on the floor in a heap. Spencer Smith stood in the doorframe eying the tangle of limbs below him that was Brendon and Jon before sniffing slightly and stepping over them into the apartment, shoes clicking lightly on the linoleum floor.

“Jon,” Brendon groaned, disentangling himself from the other and shoving Jon off of his legs, which were starting to ache, “what the hell. Why are you guys here?” Jon laughed uproariously at the reaction.

“Well why do you think we’re here? We’re here,” he explained slowly, as though Brendon might possibly be a little slow, “to see your boy toy!” Jon erupted into fresh cackles.

“My boy t--” Brendon paused, and then understanding clouded his face. “Oh, you mean Ryan… hate to disappoint you Jon, but he’s gone.” Jon glanced at him in confusion.

“Gone? What do you mean gone? He was here just a few days ago! I called you- anyway, I think I did- and you said so yourself!” he whined, tugging on Brendon’s sleeve. “Come on Brenny, don’t keep him all to yourself! I wanted to meet him!”

Spencer sighed at the look on Brendon’s face and walked over to the two of them, hauling them to their feet. “Look Jon, if Brendon says he’s gone then he’s gone. I’m sure there’s a good reason he hasn’t told us.”

Jon nodded as though this made sense and turned once more to Brendon. “Well, okay then, tell us what it is Brennie!”

Brendon sighed, defeated, and sat down in a chair at the small table by the kitchenette. “He just… he left, okay? What exactly do you want me to say?” He looked up suddenly, desperation in his eyes at the impossible situation and at how utterly clueless his friends were. “Do you want me to tell you that I met him on the street? That he moved in with me after I’d known him for about ten minutes? That he’s a fucking prostitute and I spent more money than I want to even talk about trying to change that? Do you want to hear that it didn’t do any good and that I kicked him out of my fucking house? Do you want to know that he could be raped and beaten in a fucking alley somewhere, right now, because I wouldn’t let him stay, and how I can’t think of anything else! Do you want to know how that’s fucking killing me, Jon Walker?!” He was half screaming and half sobbing by this point, and Spencer and Jon shared a look, one concerned and one terrified at their friend’s breakdown, before both crossed the room and sat down next to Brendon, rubbing him awkwardly on the back and waiting for him to calm down.

“I’m sorry Brennie, I’m sorry,” Jon whispered hoarsely, “I didn’t know, okay? We’ll take care of it, okay? It’ll work out, we’ll find him.” He continued muttering promises that he wished he knew how to keep until Spencer silenced him with a look and turned once more to Brendon.

“Brendon.” Those deep brown eyes remained locked in a staring contest with the floor. Spencer sighed. “Brendon. Look at me.” There was still no reaction, and Spencer turned with a trace of irritation to Jon. “Look, both of you, I don’t think it’s a good idea to go looking for this guy.”

Brendon’s head snapped up and Jon stared.

“What do you mean, Spence? I mean, look at the kid, he’s a mess!” Jon glanced at Brendon, concern playing across his features.

Another sigh. “I know, Jon, and that’s exactly why I’m saying it. Think about it. What do we know about this guy? That he’s a whore and he took Brendon’s money? He met him on the street for chrissake! Brendon’s lucky he wasn’t raped, or robbed while he slept!”

For the first time, there was a reaction from Brendon, and it was anger.

“Don’t you talk about him like that, do you hear me?” he was shaking lightly, and his baby eyes were narrowed to slits as he eyed Spencer. “Don’t you fucking talk about him that way! You don’t know him! You don’t know a single thing about him!”

“And you do? Brendon,” Spencer let out a desperate sound almost like a laugh, “how do you know this guy didn’t totally con you? How can you say you know him after he was with you for no more than a few days?”

“I don’t know! I just know, okay?” Brendon insisted stubbornly.

“Well, I think he should go.” Jon spoke up suddenly, looking guiltily in Spencer’s direction before nodding at Brendon. “I think he should find this guy. Whether he got conned or not, he’s obviously going to stress out about it until he finds out what happened, right?”

Brendon nodded slowly, thinking, and Spencer threw his hands up in a gesture of defeat, before glancing at his watch. “Do what you want, it’s none of my business. I just wanted to throw my two-cents in. I gotta run, I’m going to be late for my date.” He wiggled his eyebrows suggestively and rose to his feet.

“Date? Date with who?” Jon asked, pouting slightly.

“That is for me to know and you to find out.”

The pout intensified.

“Okay, fine. Some guy I met at the bar the other night. His name’s William. Anyway, I’ll see you two later. I can just take the bus because I’m meeting him for coffee near here,” Spencer waved as he walked out of the room.

Jon hunched over at the table, crossing his arms and glaring slightly. “Some guy I met at the bar the other night. His name’s William,” he mimicked in a high falsetto.

“Dude, Jon, what’s your problem?” Brendon looked at him curiously.

“Nothing, man, forget about it.” Jon huffed, laying his head on his arms.

An awkward silence followed, before Jon sat up and shook his head as though to clear his thoughts, focusing on Brendon once more. "So Brennie, you planning on looking for this Ryan guy?"

"I don't know Jon. I mean... I kicked him out of my house. I-I made him leave, and why would he want to come back here even if I did find him?"

Jon looked thoughtfully in Brendon's direction. "I can think of a couple reasons." Brendon sighed. "But that's not even the point, Brennie. What about you? Come on, you're fucking miserable! You're really trying to tell me you don't mind just letting this whole thing go?"

"Of course I mind! But it's not up to me anymore!"

Jon smiled sadly. "You make or break your own destiny, Bee. Sometimes giving yourself something to regret turns into your biggest regret of all."

There was a long silence. Jon figetted with the hem on his sleeves, tugging on a loose string before he gave up and started twiddling his thumbs. He was almost convinced that he was being ignored before Brendon spoke.

"Give me the keys." Brendon said softly, raising his eyes, and there was a strange glint in them that hadn't been there before. His voice grew louder with every word he spoke. "Gimme the fuckin' keys, Jon Walker. We're going on a rescue mission!" His lips twisted into a grin.

Jon let out a laugh and whooped suddenly, jumping out of the chair and dancing Brendon crazily around the room before he stopped suddenly. "Wait just a second here, fuck you! It's my car and I'm driving. Time to get going, Passenger Bitch!" Jon erupted into fresh laughter, smacking Brendon playfully on the ass as he walked by him and out the door, jingling the keys loudly.

"Hey! Come back here! I ain't your passenger bitch!" Brendon called after him, hurrying out the door after Jon and slamming it behind him.

There was nobody home, but somehow, those rooms had already begun to feel a little less lonely.
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