Categories > Celebrities > Panic! At The Disco > Take It A Day At A Time

Chapter One

by ipanicdaily 2 reviews

"Ryan brought a new toy home last night," Patrick said with a small smile, neatly writing something down in what I'm assuming is a ledger. "Doesn't remember his name."

Category: Panic! At The Disco - Rating: R - Genres: Drama,Humor - Published: 2009-07-13 - Updated: 2009-07-13 - 2971 words - Complete

*Chapter One

5 Years Earlier*

The usual sounds of the nearby city woke me up; horns screaming and sirens yelling at cars to get out of the way, though hardly anyone made an effort to let an ambulance or cop or fire truck pass if it inconvenienced them. My head was pounding, as though my heart had decided to move in with my brain, and there was this dull ache in every muscle of my body. The sun was shining into my room, lighting up the surrounding walls of chipping paint and pushing through the strands of beads hanging in my doorway, which served as a door.

Groaning a little, I used my arms to push myself up, my blanket falling from my naked body to the floor. I pulled my knees up and sat back on my heels, yawning a little before realizing that there was another naked body in my bed; sound asleep. I press my palms into my eyes and groaned some more because, honestly? I need to stop sleeping with someone new each night.

I got off my bed, well my mattress really since I don't have a frame, and shuffled across the wooden floor towards the stacked laundry baskets in the corner which served as my dresser, grabbing a pair of boxers and pulling them on, leaving last night's fuck to his sleep. I used one hand to push the beads aside, stepping out into the mass of space that eventually got divided into a living room and a dining room as furniture was randomly obtained. It was early, the sun just barely making its way into our loft, so I knew most people were still asleep or knocked out at the very least.

As usual though, Patrick was already up and getting a start on his day, sitting at the wooden table with notebooks sprawled before him as well as a calculator as he no doubt figured out the music stores income update for a progress report. "Morning Ryan." Patrick greeted me as I passed him to the fridge, yanking the door open and bending over a bit, peering inside. We didn't have much, but we had enough to survive and enough to stretch over about eight people, not to mention whoever crashed here for a day or two. "Did you have a good night, last night?" Patrick asked with a bit of an amused smirk.

"Don't know," I mumbled, settling on a bottle of water and cracking it open, swallowing a bit of the cold liquid before opening the cupboard and rummaging around to find the aspirin, dumping two little pills onto my hand which I shoved into my mouth to try and relieve my killer headache. "Ask him when he gets up."

"I have to leave soon." Patrick frowned, moving some of his stuff to make room for me.

"Pete sleeping or at work?" I asked, sitting down in one of the very hard wooden chairs.

"Sleeping," Patrick answered, eyes glued on the books again, fingers randomly flying over the calculator buttons. "You, myself, and I'm pretty sure Frank are the only ones awake right now."

"Nothing new." I laughed a little, pulling one leg up so my foot was flat against the chair, resting my chin on my knee and wrapping my hands around my ankle once the water bottle was on the table. For the most part, everyone that lived here was a night person. Patrick functioned during the day because of his job; same with Pete when he had the day shift. Frank worked around his schedule of attending college classes and working at the bookstore nearby, still managing to find time to spend with Gerard. A starving artist, Gerard helps with the local gallery when he can, but mostly stays holed up in his room though sometimes will come join someone in the living room or at a club. Gabe and Will pretty much keep to their room too but that's because I'm pretty positive they don't ever stop fucking. Gabe doesn't need a job anyway because he's a drug dealer which means he spoils Will beyond belief, paying half the rent and giving us whatever 'favors' we want for free or cheap, depending on his mood.

And me? Well, I haven't quite figured out what I'm doing. I have no interest in college or even a job really. Since I'm the youngest here, the others see it as their job to protect me which means I don't ever have to pay for anything; not that I require that much to begin with. During the day I usually sit in my room or on the fire escape outside my window with my guitar, trying to improve my playing to get better so I can perform for someone someday. I sold almost everything I had to get my guitar; back before I met Frank who was the one that brought me to live here and has pretty much taken care of me for a while. He's like my big brother and I love him like such.

"Do you know the name of the boy in your bed?" Patrick asked, snapping me from my thoughts.

"Uhhh..." Random images flashed through my head, the face of the boy in my bed always before me no matter what the changing background became. One time it was the flashing lights of a club, another an alley, and another my bedroom; all of which he was saying my name. More so moaning it really. "No, I don't," I shamefully answered, not that it was a first. Everyone else had grounded relationships. I don't stay to one guy for more than a night. I'm pretty much an unpaid prostitute.

"You don't what?" I turned my head to see Frank coming from the hallway where his bedroom is located and smiled, releasing my leg to put my arms out for a hug. Frank smiled then walked over to me and bent down a bit, sliding his arms around my body and hugging me tightly, kissing the side of my head before letting go and starting on making coffee. "So, what's this conversation about?"

"Ryan brought a new toy home last night," Patrick said with a small smile, neatly writing something down in what I'm assuming is a ledger. "Doesn't remember his name."

"So? That's nothing new." Frank teased me, pulling a chair back and turning it around then sitting down with his arms folded over the top and chin resting on the crossing point of his arms, his infamous smirk spread across his face with curious hazel eyes fixated on me. "Is he cute?" No sooner were the words out of Frank's mouth, did the mysterious boy stumble out of my room, fortunately in boxers and a shirt that I'm pretty sure are mine but I'm not overly concerned about. "He is," Frank said, eyes scanning the boy with a bit of a hungry look.

"You have a boyfriend," I said, waving my hand in front of Frank's face then directing my attention to the boy I had slept with. "Do you remember last night?"

"Uh...kinda?" He replied with a bit of a lost expression, one hand holding onto the mess of chocolate hair on top of his head and brow knit tight. "We met at a club and then came back here..." His voice trailed off as he looked towards Patrick and Frank who were looking at him with heavy stares of curiosity and scrutiny. "Who're you?"

"I was about to ask you the same thing," Frank said, still grinning away. "Little Ryro has forgotten your name." I felt my cheeks warm slightly with embarrassment because the last thing you want to hear after sleeping with someone is that they don't even remember your name.

"Brendon," he answered with a bit of hurt in his voice.

"Hello Brendon." Patrick was the first to officially greet him, gathering his books into a single pile. "I'm Patrick." he stuck a hand out, Brendon stumbling towards the table with a still glazed over expression, sticking his hand out to Patrick. "I'm going to be late if I don't get out of here." he sighed after releasing Brendon's hand and standing up, lifting his books into his arms. "I'll see you later Ry." I nodded my head and grabbed my water, the aspirin just starting to take effect. "Nice to meet you, Brendon."

"You too?" Brendon remained generally lost and Frank giggled a bit beside me before getting off his chair and going to the coffee that awaited him. Frank, but mainly Gerard, function solely on coffee I swear. Patrick shoved his things into his bag and slung it over his shoulder, giving a small wave before walking out and heading off to work. "So..." Brendon looked at me as though I had answers for whatever he was thinking so I just stared back at him, a blank expression on my face. How was I supposed to know what he was thinking?

"Where are your manners, Ryan?" Frank asked, coming back towards us with his coffee.

"Up your ass." I smirked, Frank laughing some before smacking me playfully in the back of the head, which only added to my headache. I whined and dropped my head down to the table, a new wave of pain pulsing through it.

"Good; you deserve it," Frank answered, his voice light and teasing. "I'm Frank, by the way." He addressed Brendon who was standing silently beside the table, as though he had to be told what to do. "You want something to drink or anything? I'm sure we have some sort of breakfast substance here."

"No thank you," Brendon answered politely, Frank laughing a little more. Politeness and well, manners in general, weren't something often experienced here, mostly because everyone's too fucked out of their minds to remember such niceties.

"You can sit, you know," Frank said, falling back onto his seat. I raised my head from the table as Brendon took the seat Patrick was sitting in, his body still apprehensive and nervous in its actions which, to tell you the truth, was pretty damn adorable. "What are your plans for the day, Ryan?"

"As soon as my headache goes away, the same thing I always do," I answered, shutting my eyes briefly and rubbing my temples. "You?"

"I have class this morning then a few hours at the bookstore," he answered with a slight sigh. "I should be home probably around seven. After that I'll more than likely just spend the night with Gee, so, yeah, the usual." Everyone that lives here is pretty much on the same consecutive schedule; minor altercations occurring when needed. Such as college classes for Frank which happen at different times each day or Pete working the day shift some days, the night shift others. "Any big plans for the day, Brendon?"

"N-not that I can think of," Brendon shyly answered, his arms drawn close to his body and his eyes just barely leaving his lap. Ok, so maybe he looks completely adorable. But, I have no idea how old he even is and he was a one night stand so it doesn't much matter if he's cute or not.

"Then I'm sure Ryan would love to spend the day with you," Frank said, my eyes shooting to him. "Wouldn't you?" Frank kicked me a bit, the pain in my leg distracting me from the pounding in my head.

"I have things to do," I said, trying not to sound too rude but the reason I only have one-night stands is because I don't do good with relationships. I tried back in high school and that just turned into a nightmare. Plus, I never said that Brendon was more than a one-night thing.

"Like what? Sit around with your guitar and get wasted?" Frank asked, his voice a little stern but not much because we all spend our free time with Gabe's drugs so none of us can really speak against the others. "A day out of this dump with another human life form is good for you." I scowled at Frank, trying not to look at the way Brendon's face contorted into a hidden hurt. "What do you like to do, Brendon?" I could swear sometimes Frank was out to get me. He knows that, unless I'm completely wasted, I like to be by myself or with people I know; like everyone who lives here.

"I d-don't know..." Brendon remained shy, looking at his lap again. His eyes, the big brown orbs they were, expressed a bit of an uncomfortable feeling, not that I blamed him. If I woke up in someone's bed, the last thing I want is to be asked a million questions by someone else I don't know.

"Frank, go to class," I said a little harshly. "You know Gerard will kill you if you're late."

"Like he has any say." Frank rolled his eyes, standing up and bringing his cup to the sink. Pete and Patrick are the only two who attempt dishes. "I go to school and work while he sits in our room all day." he sighed a bit more then started back off towards his bedroom to probably grab his school stuff and get dressed, leaving Brendon and I all alone at the table.

"So... Brendon... Do you want to shower or something before you leave?" I asked, Brendon's gaze leaving his lap and looking up to me, almost as though I was the only one he dared to make eye contact with. "I have some clothes you could wear." I offered because I wasn't spending my day with someone I just fucked and still remember very little about. That's awkward and strange.

"No," he replied quietly, looking back at his lap, shaking his head a little so his already messed up hair whipped around his face. "I can just find my clothes and leave..." Brendon's voice trailed off.

"Look," I started, feeling guilty about just kicking him out like this, "You really don't want to be here; trust me. What happened last night happens most every night with me. The life I live is something you don't want to get involved with." It's the truth, really. My life revolves around what drugs I've got coursing through my system; my body always urging me to down whatever I can, and as much of it that I can keep inside without throwing up.

"I'm sure it's not that bad." Brendon gave me a sad smile and I almost felt bad because he just seemed so innocently naive. "At least…" he pushed his chair back some and stood up, rubbing his right arm a bit, "People here care about you." Before I could say or think anything, Brendon went back to my bedroom, returning a few moments later with pants on and in sandals. "I'll see you around, I guess," Brendon said, walking to the door and disappearing with what I swore were tears in his eyes. Why would he be upset though? He knows practically nothing about me, as I do him.

Not much longer after Brendon left, Frank came back out, dressed in his usual accord of too-tight jeans and a long sleeve shirt with his backpack slung over his shoulder. "Where's Brendon?" He asked as I finished off the little bit of water left in my bottle.

"He left," I replied with a shrug, Frank staring at me for a moment and shaking his head as he went to the door before he was late for class and Gerard would kill him; no matter how much Frank denies it.

"You know Ryan…" Frank stopped and turned back to me as the door was half open, "You always complain about how you're all alone when you see me with Gerard or Pete and Patrick or even the rare occasion Gabe and Will leave their room, but you make no effort to change that."

"You know that-"

"Yeah, I know about Brent and high school," Frank said a little bitterly to me. "But high school was a few years ago and Brent's only one person. Nothing's going to change if you don't really want it to." I opened my mouth to say something back but Frank walked out and pulled the door shut behind him, leaving me completely alone now at the table while the others slept. I know he's right, that that was only one person, but how do I know I can trust someone else? I certainly don't want it to end like it did before.

I sighed and threw my empty bottle towards the sink, staring at the wall a moment before getting off the wooden chair which my butt was falling asleep on and going to my bedroom to find my guitar. I wouldn't even attempt bothering Gabe for anything until at least noon because there's no way he'll be up until then and the last thing I want to do is wake him.

The sun was considerably brighter now and I grabbed my guitar, walking to my window which led to the fire escape, pushing the thin sheet which served as my curtain aside, using my free hand to yank the heavy glass window open, and slid out. I didn't care if I was only in my boxers; it was fairly warm and the fire escape just faced a brick wall so it's not like anyone was going to see anything. I sat in my usual spot, legs dangling over the edge, and situated my guitar in my lap.

The soft and soothing sounds from my guitar were the only other way for me to slip from reality beside the drugs. Yet still, it wasn't quite the light and carefree mood I so desperately craved.
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