Categories > Celebrities > Panic! At The Disco > Take It A Day At A Time
Take It A Day At A Time
3 reviews(Rydon+) No drug was denied, no party over passed, no drink turned away, and no request for sex denied; regardless of who was asking. There was no such thing as 'too much'; there was only 'more'.
5Moving
A/N--- ok, so this fic is full of drugs, alcohol, all that good stuff. There's a shit load of slash too. Ryan/Brendon, Frank/Gerard, Gabe/Will, and Pete/Patrick; that's only what I have planned out right now too.
Yes I'm sad PATD split but they're all still alive and making music so I'm not stopping my life over it.
enjoy
xoxo Tabi
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*Prologue
Ryan's POV*
I should have stopped him long ago, really. I should have kept Brendon away from the world my life fell slave to, knowing from the moment I met him that it would all be too much for him to handle. Brendon is too light hearted and optimistically upbeat for the kind of life I lead. But he was hot and I was high on a colorful cocktail that night, leading him to the back alley behind the club where he gave me a sloppy blowjob with his wet virgin mouth. He clung to me after that and thought it was cute because anything I wanted, Brendon made sure I got. I should have told him to go away the moment he offered to buy me a drink, but I didn't. So now, he lies dying on that hospital bed. And I'm the one to blame.
Brendon was reluctant at first, which was best for him. He would only take the occasional sip from the bottle while the rest of us got so drunk you could have wrung the alcohol right out of our skin. Then it became a drink or two and a couple of hits on the group toke, just enough to temporarily set his mind aside and allow him to live outside his body like the rest of us. I thought it was cute and amusing really. A high Brendon was unusually giggly and very touchy, not that my body minded that part too much. A high Brendon knew how to give amazing head where his sober counterpart was completely clueless.
From there, Brendon fell to the world I'd so long been bound to. No drug was denied, no party over passed, no drink turned away, and no request for sex denied; regardless of who was asking. There was no such thing as 'too much'; there was only 'more'. There was no thought about what shouldn't mix with each other and when the effects of one drug began to wear off, another was quickly consumed to avoid that feeling of sobriety. I welcomed Brendon into my life but I should have stopped him from falling. I know moderation; Brendon's too eager to think of such a thing. But I didn't protect him.
"Hey, Brenny-Bear," I whispered with a sad smile, sitting in the chair beside the hospital bed where he lie. His skin was unusually pale, blending into the blank white sheets beneath him; a matching white blanket with tiny holes pulled up to his chest, the top of the cheap baby-blue-polka-dotted hospital gown identifying where his body was against the bed. Brendon would hate this room. The walls were a very pale blue, matching the hospital gown, and the floor was made of shiny white tiles; light mint green curtains half over the windows. Brendon likes bright colors and random designs like stripes or little flowers. "I brought some music for you," I said to his unresponsive body, reaching into my bag and extracting his favorite CD of Disney songs. Brendon lived for music.
It was an awful sight; Brendon. His usually messy milk chocolate locks were combed neatly against his head, his bangs pushed aside to expose his face. Brendon's large pink lips, warm and smooth, were no longer running a million miles a minute but were rather resting against a large blue tube that stretched down his throat; slightly bluish and cold. His arms were parallel to his perfectly straight body, his hands pointing towards his waist, tilted at a roughly 120 degree angle. In Brendon's right arm was a thick needle, taped down to his skin, supplying liquids to his body to keep it functioning artificially in a way. Little wires sprouted from the collar of the gown, connecting circular pads on his chest to machines that monitored his heart rate. There was no sign of life in Brendon; just lines and numbers the machines gave me, saying that he was indeed still alive. He just wasn't quite alive on his own.
"I finally managed to go clean," I said, setting the CD on the table beside me then slipping my hand into his chilled one. "No more drugs or alcohol; just like you always wanted," The coldness of his skin sent shivers through my body but I couldn't let go. I just let a few tears roll down my face, glancing towards the heater alongside the window where dying flowers and get well cards sat, Brendon's favorite Disney character figurines scattered throughout. It was as comfortable as they would let us make it for him, their stupid hospital rules wanting everything to be sterile and dull.
There was a soft knock on the wooden door, the handle clicking as Dr. Carrigan slid inside. "Good evening, Mr. Ross," he smiled politely, shutting the door behind him. I smiled and nodded a greeting, brushing my thumb over the back of Brendon's hand. "Mr. Urie's system seems to be cleaned out of the drugs now, but, as you can see, he's still in a coma," I nodded faintly. "Looking over his brain waves from the past few weeks, he shows very little sign of improvement or recovery. It's been three months now and-"
"Please, don't," I whispered, my thumb stopping and my heart racing; barely breathing at all as I looked at Dr. Carrigan through curtains of pained tears. "Please," I begged, my voice barely working.
"I think we should discuss possibly taking Mr. Urie from life support and setting him free."
Yes I'm sad PATD split but they're all still alive and making music so I'm not stopping my life over it.
enjoy
xoxo Tabi
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------
*Prologue
Ryan's POV*
I should have stopped him long ago, really. I should have kept Brendon away from the world my life fell slave to, knowing from the moment I met him that it would all be too much for him to handle. Brendon is too light hearted and optimistically upbeat for the kind of life I lead. But he was hot and I was high on a colorful cocktail that night, leading him to the back alley behind the club where he gave me a sloppy blowjob with his wet virgin mouth. He clung to me after that and thought it was cute because anything I wanted, Brendon made sure I got. I should have told him to go away the moment he offered to buy me a drink, but I didn't. So now, he lies dying on that hospital bed. And I'm the one to blame.
Brendon was reluctant at first, which was best for him. He would only take the occasional sip from the bottle while the rest of us got so drunk you could have wrung the alcohol right out of our skin. Then it became a drink or two and a couple of hits on the group toke, just enough to temporarily set his mind aside and allow him to live outside his body like the rest of us. I thought it was cute and amusing really. A high Brendon was unusually giggly and very touchy, not that my body minded that part too much. A high Brendon knew how to give amazing head where his sober counterpart was completely clueless.
From there, Brendon fell to the world I'd so long been bound to. No drug was denied, no party over passed, no drink turned away, and no request for sex denied; regardless of who was asking. There was no such thing as 'too much'; there was only 'more'. There was no thought about what shouldn't mix with each other and when the effects of one drug began to wear off, another was quickly consumed to avoid that feeling of sobriety. I welcomed Brendon into my life but I should have stopped him from falling. I know moderation; Brendon's too eager to think of such a thing. But I didn't protect him.
"Hey, Brenny-Bear," I whispered with a sad smile, sitting in the chair beside the hospital bed where he lie. His skin was unusually pale, blending into the blank white sheets beneath him; a matching white blanket with tiny holes pulled up to his chest, the top of the cheap baby-blue-polka-dotted hospital gown identifying where his body was against the bed. Brendon would hate this room. The walls were a very pale blue, matching the hospital gown, and the floor was made of shiny white tiles; light mint green curtains half over the windows. Brendon likes bright colors and random designs like stripes or little flowers. "I brought some music for you," I said to his unresponsive body, reaching into my bag and extracting his favorite CD of Disney songs. Brendon lived for music.
It was an awful sight; Brendon. His usually messy milk chocolate locks were combed neatly against his head, his bangs pushed aside to expose his face. Brendon's large pink lips, warm and smooth, were no longer running a million miles a minute but were rather resting against a large blue tube that stretched down his throat; slightly bluish and cold. His arms were parallel to his perfectly straight body, his hands pointing towards his waist, tilted at a roughly 120 degree angle. In Brendon's right arm was a thick needle, taped down to his skin, supplying liquids to his body to keep it functioning artificially in a way. Little wires sprouted from the collar of the gown, connecting circular pads on his chest to machines that monitored his heart rate. There was no sign of life in Brendon; just lines and numbers the machines gave me, saying that he was indeed still alive. He just wasn't quite alive on his own.
"I finally managed to go clean," I said, setting the CD on the table beside me then slipping my hand into his chilled one. "No more drugs or alcohol; just like you always wanted," The coldness of his skin sent shivers through my body but I couldn't let go. I just let a few tears roll down my face, glancing towards the heater alongside the window where dying flowers and get well cards sat, Brendon's favorite Disney character figurines scattered throughout. It was as comfortable as they would let us make it for him, their stupid hospital rules wanting everything to be sterile and dull.
There was a soft knock on the wooden door, the handle clicking as Dr. Carrigan slid inside. "Good evening, Mr. Ross," he smiled politely, shutting the door behind him. I smiled and nodded a greeting, brushing my thumb over the back of Brendon's hand. "Mr. Urie's system seems to be cleaned out of the drugs now, but, as you can see, he's still in a coma," I nodded faintly. "Looking over his brain waves from the past few weeks, he shows very little sign of improvement or recovery. It's been three months now and-"
"Please, don't," I whispered, my thumb stopping and my heart racing; barely breathing at all as I looked at Dr. Carrigan through curtains of pained tears. "Please," I begged, my voice barely working.
"I think we should discuss possibly taking Mr. Urie from life support and setting him free."
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