Categories > Celebrities > Panic! At The Disco
Discaimer: Brendon Owns Ryan
0 reviewsBrendon's a party boy, and Ryan has just had enough of it.
0Unrated
Ryan's Point of View:
You’re always telling me “You just aren’t any fun anymore Ry.” And I remember how I’m always telling you, “You need to grow up Brendon.” You’d give me a grunt as you head off to some party, or to play at some bar. And I always let you just get away with your little kid ways. It’s like your three sometimes, like nothing can happen to you. And I’m your father sometimes – hell I might as well be your mother! – And I let you have your fun like you’ll grow out of it.
This band will never get anywhere if you will be at parties all the time. But hey, what can I do? Kick you out of the band? #1 – you’re our lead singer, and without your voice and natural performing attitude we’ll be nothing and #2 – Brent and Spencer love you and would never be for kicking you out…and I love you too much to kick you out myself. You’re still my best friend, even if you do piss me off constantly. But you promised me you’d be there today, and I believed you, you promised me you wouldn’t mess up this time…
Today, if you had shown up, I would have walked out on the band right then and there. So in a way, I guess it’s a good thing you went to your party instead of our audition. I wasn’t angry, but I was so sad that you were turning out to be someone I didn’t know. How do you not know your best friend?
I waited for you, even after Brent and Spencer left, I sat there on the steps and I waited because I knew you would come at some point. You were one of those people who showed up late, hoping that maybe you could still make it. It was around eight o clock and that’s when I went home. I sat there for hours, hoping to see you frantically running up the steps, maybe then I could have forgiven you. I went home, and you weren’t there. I was so angry, I started packing my things and Brent and Spencer tried to stop me, but I was leaving. I had decided that. If I couldn’t get them to take this seriously, they needed a new lead guitarist then. I locked my door, and finally Brent and Spencer realized I wasn’t changing my mind. But then later, there was a knock.
“Fuck off guys.” There was silence and it wasn’t Spencer or Brent’s pleading voice on the other side. It was Brendon’s.
“I fucked up tonight, Ry. I…I know apologies aren’t enough, ‘cause let’s face it I’ve fucked up so many times…I’ve run out of chances. I know I have. I knew if I stayed there tonight, you would be gone tomorrow. But I was an idiot, and I stayed. You’re right to walk out on me, but you’re wrong to walk out on Brent and Spencer. So I’m going to do you the favor of having to walk out on the one thing you love most. You’re going to find a singer way better than me, you might as well take that spot back.” He laughed a little, but the sadness was still thick in it. I think he hoped I would open the door, and god it was hard not to, and smile at him and just say what I always do, “It’s ok”. But it wasn’t okay this time, it was never okay, and I wanted it to be okay…but it just wasn’t.
“Promise me you’ll let me be the one to leave.” He said. I didn’t say anything, because I wanted to cry my eyes out and die, because I couldn’t ever let Brendon Urie leave this band.
“Thank you, Ry.” I wanted to scream that I wasn’t letting him do it, but I just stared at the door taking note of what an ugly paint job it had.
The next morning I put my bags in the car, I would move in with Trinity (gf). Oh joy! Brent and Spencer finally came out of the house and Spencer just looked at me.
“So is this the end of our band then?”
“No, you guys will get there without me.” I smile and pat his shoulder.
“Not taking your guitar?” Brent asked, confusion in his face and plenty of disbelief.
“Shit, I almost forgot.” I went back into our little so called studio and when I went to pick up my guitar I found Brendon’s was gone and a letter was left intertwined in the strings of mine.
“Please Stay.
--- Brendon”
I read it several times before Brent came looking for me, and Spencer was taking my bags back to my room all sneakily. Like I would never notice…
“He left.” I said.
“Yeah, we helped him get out early on his flight this morning.”
“Why would you help him leave?” I think I sounded a little madder than need be, but I really didn’t want Brendon to go.
“Well...you see...he made us promise A LONG time ago, that if things went bad because of him, we had to help him leave. He said he was the outsider of us, and he didn’t want to ruin things.”
I kicked the desk, so he had this planned out before anything had happened. No one knew though were he was going, only that he was gone.
We didn’t look for a new singer, back up or lead, for weeks. I tried to get a hold of Brendon again, but his family and friends didn’t know where he was. So eventually, we had to go on as a band.
Our new back up singer was Tyson. He wasn’t anything like Brendon, but he would fill the gap (on the stage strictly speaking). He kept to the music, stayed home every night – even when I, boring Ryan Ross, went out.
The guitarist from Fall Out Boy, Pete Wentz actually came to see our band. He liked it, and we got signed. It was supposed to be the happiest day of our lives; it was only two months and three days after Brendon had left.
I tried to get a hold of Brendon again, but no one had heard much from him, except that he was living somewhere in California doing a land surveying job. I tried to track him down, but nothing helped.
Pete got us an interview on a TV show called…well it doesn’t matter…we were on TV! He asked us a lot of questions about how we got into music and why we chose the things we did and all. It all went by smoothly, and soon we were home.
I went to work like always, Brent and Spencer did too, just because we MIGHT become famous didn’t change anything…yet. I stopped by the grocery store on the way home; I mean some of the things in the back of our fridge were just plain grody.
I came out trying to remember where the hell I had parked my car, and that’s when I saw him. At least, I was sure it was him. He was walking up a row of cars with his white sun-glasses on, staring down at his cell phone screen, texting. He looked exactly the same as when I had last seen him. I stood on the curb as he came closer until he was almost by me, this somehow felt like a soap opera to me. But then he saw me, and our eyes met. His movements stumbled and hesitated from the shock of seeing me standing there like an idiot on the curb in front of the Wal-Mart.
“Ry…” He mumbled out. I wasn’t sure what to say, he had disappeared, and Pete Wentz signed us… Surely he knew though. But it didn’t make it any less awkward.
“Hey,” I said, all other words failing me completely.
“Um, how’s it going?” He asked. It was obviously hard for either of us to figure out what we’re supposed to say.
“Uh…great.” I said, thinking the whole time, Great?! Everything’s horrible, please Brendon, forgive me and come back, but those are words I, THE Ryan Ross, could never bring myself to say – even as desperately as I wanted to bring him back.
He nodded, and just so there wasn’t any silence between us, he pretended like he had some place to be. “Great, I um, gotta run…but I’ll…well bye.” Usually people say something like “I’ll catch you later” or “talk to you later”, but not Urie, he isn’t the type. But I intended on worming him back into Panic! At The Disco’s lives.
“Hey, if you want you can drop by at Spence’s grandma’s tomorrow night. We’re off in a few days and she’s giving us a “going away” party or something…”
He’s not annoyed, there’s no way in hell Brendon Urie would be annoyed about being invited to a party, but he’s trapped and he knows it. He turns and stares at me for a long time trying to figure out why I’m trying to be nice.
“They really miss you.” I say, maybe I can guilt him into it, anything to get him there.
(A/N: Kay, I’m not sure how this happened, but apparently sometime while I was writing the point of view changed, so just bare with me, thnx)
“Yeah,” He turned away, he didn’t want to hear about Spencer and Brent because he knew they missed him, they made sure he lived with that fact. It only meant anything if THEY included Ryan.
“That doesn’t mean anything, I guess.” Ryan said. Brendon stopped again, contemplated his words for only a moment and then turned back to his long ago best friend with a look that said, “Fuck you, Ross” and he kept his peace, knowing that Ryan knew what he wanted to hear.
“I…I miss you…” It took a lot for someone like Ryan Ross to reveal such a secret, and that kind of thing Brendon should have found touching and valuable, but he found it incredibly easy to turn away from him.
7:00 Thursday night, Brendon was standing at a door; a blue door to be precise, or was it periwinkle? He didn’t knock, no doorbell rang, but those inside he knew at least one knew he was there. But Brendon was given his space, because this had to be his choice, this had to be wanted by no other than him.
He stepped to the side and leaned on the railing. Maybe this was a bad idea. He glanced inside the small window seeing…. nothing. He looked down with a sigh, he just had to face it – he was after all already there.
You’re always telling me “You just aren’t any fun anymore Ry.” And I remember how I’m always telling you, “You need to grow up Brendon.” You’d give me a grunt as you head off to some party, or to play at some bar. And I always let you just get away with your little kid ways. It’s like your three sometimes, like nothing can happen to you. And I’m your father sometimes – hell I might as well be your mother! – And I let you have your fun like you’ll grow out of it.
This band will never get anywhere if you will be at parties all the time. But hey, what can I do? Kick you out of the band? #1 – you’re our lead singer, and without your voice and natural performing attitude we’ll be nothing and #2 – Brent and Spencer love you and would never be for kicking you out…and I love you too much to kick you out myself. You’re still my best friend, even if you do piss me off constantly. But you promised me you’d be there today, and I believed you, you promised me you wouldn’t mess up this time…
Today, if you had shown up, I would have walked out on the band right then and there. So in a way, I guess it’s a good thing you went to your party instead of our audition. I wasn’t angry, but I was so sad that you were turning out to be someone I didn’t know. How do you not know your best friend?
I waited for you, even after Brent and Spencer left, I sat there on the steps and I waited because I knew you would come at some point. You were one of those people who showed up late, hoping that maybe you could still make it. It was around eight o clock and that’s when I went home. I sat there for hours, hoping to see you frantically running up the steps, maybe then I could have forgiven you. I went home, and you weren’t there. I was so angry, I started packing my things and Brent and Spencer tried to stop me, but I was leaving. I had decided that. If I couldn’t get them to take this seriously, they needed a new lead guitarist then. I locked my door, and finally Brent and Spencer realized I wasn’t changing my mind. But then later, there was a knock.
“Fuck off guys.” There was silence and it wasn’t Spencer or Brent’s pleading voice on the other side. It was Brendon’s.
“I fucked up tonight, Ry. I…I know apologies aren’t enough, ‘cause let’s face it I’ve fucked up so many times…I’ve run out of chances. I know I have. I knew if I stayed there tonight, you would be gone tomorrow. But I was an idiot, and I stayed. You’re right to walk out on me, but you’re wrong to walk out on Brent and Spencer. So I’m going to do you the favor of having to walk out on the one thing you love most. You’re going to find a singer way better than me, you might as well take that spot back.” He laughed a little, but the sadness was still thick in it. I think he hoped I would open the door, and god it was hard not to, and smile at him and just say what I always do, “It’s ok”. But it wasn’t okay this time, it was never okay, and I wanted it to be okay…but it just wasn’t.
“Promise me you’ll let me be the one to leave.” He said. I didn’t say anything, because I wanted to cry my eyes out and die, because I couldn’t ever let Brendon Urie leave this band.
“Thank you, Ry.” I wanted to scream that I wasn’t letting him do it, but I just stared at the door taking note of what an ugly paint job it had.
The next morning I put my bags in the car, I would move in with Trinity (gf). Oh joy! Brent and Spencer finally came out of the house and Spencer just looked at me.
“So is this the end of our band then?”
“No, you guys will get there without me.” I smile and pat his shoulder.
“Not taking your guitar?” Brent asked, confusion in his face and plenty of disbelief.
“Shit, I almost forgot.” I went back into our little so called studio and when I went to pick up my guitar I found Brendon’s was gone and a letter was left intertwined in the strings of mine.
“Please Stay.
--- Brendon”
I read it several times before Brent came looking for me, and Spencer was taking my bags back to my room all sneakily. Like I would never notice…
“He left.” I said.
“Yeah, we helped him get out early on his flight this morning.”
“Why would you help him leave?” I think I sounded a little madder than need be, but I really didn’t want Brendon to go.
“Well...you see...he made us promise A LONG time ago, that if things went bad because of him, we had to help him leave. He said he was the outsider of us, and he didn’t want to ruin things.”
I kicked the desk, so he had this planned out before anything had happened. No one knew though were he was going, only that he was gone.
We didn’t look for a new singer, back up or lead, for weeks. I tried to get a hold of Brendon again, but his family and friends didn’t know where he was. So eventually, we had to go on as a band.
Our new back up singer was Tyson. He wasn’t anything like Brendon, but he would fill the gap (on the stage strictly speaking). He kept to the music, stayed home every night – even when I, boring Ryan Ross, went out.
The guitarist from Fall Out Boy, Pete Wentz actually came to see our band. He liked it, and we got signed. It was supposed to be the happiest day of our lives; it was only two months and three days after Brendon had left.
I tried to get a hold of Brendon again, but no one had heard much from him, except that he was living somewhere in California doing a land surveying job. I tried to track him down, but nothing helped.
Pete got us an interview on a TV show called…well it doesn’t matter…we were on TV! He asked us a lot of questions about how we got into music and why we chose the things we did and all. It all went by smoothly, and soon we were home.
I went to work like always, Brent and Spencer did too, just because we MIGHT become famous didn’t change anything…yet. I stopped by the grocery store on the way home; I mean some of the things in the back of our fridge were just plain grody.
I came out trying to remember where the hell I had parked my car, and that’s when I saw him. At least, I was sure it was him. He was walking up a row of cars with his white sun-glasses on, staring down at his cell phone screen, texting. He looked exactly the same as when I had last seen him. I stood on the curb as he came closer until he was almost by me, this somehow felt like a soap opera to me. But then he saw me, and our eyes met. His movements stumbled and hesitated from the shock of seeing me standing there like an idiot on the curb in front of the Wal-Mart.
“Ry…” He mumbled out. I wasn’t sure what to say, he had disappeared, and Pete Wentz signed us… Surely he knew though. But it didn’t make it any less awkward.
“Hey,” I said, all other words failing me completely.
“Um, how’s it going?” He asked. It was obviously hard for either of us to figure out what we’re supposed to say.
“Uh…great.” I said, thinking the whole time, Great?! Everything’s horrible, please Brendon, forgive me and come back, but those are words I, THE Ryan Ross, could never bring myself to say – even as desperately as I wanted to bring him back.
He nodded, and just so there wasn’t any silence between us, he pretended like he had some place to be. “Great, I um, gotta run…but I’ll…well bye.” Usually people say something like “I’ll catch you later” or “talk to you later”, but not Urie, he isn’t the type. But I intended on worming him back into Panic! At The Disco’s lives.
“Hey, if you want you can drop by at Spence’s grandma’s tomorrow night. We’re off in a few days and she’s giving us a “going away” party or something…”
He’s not annoyed, there’s no way in hell Brendon Urie would be annoyed about being invited to a party, but he’s trapped and he knows it. He turns and stares at me for a long time trying to figure out why I’m trying to be nice.
“They really miss you.” I say, maybe I can guilt him into it, anything to get him there.
(A/N: Kay, I’m not sure how this happened, but apparently sometime while I was writing the point of view changed, so just bare with me, thnx)
“Yeah,” He turned away, he didn’t want to hear about Spencer and Brent because he knew they missed him, they made sure he lived with that fact. It only meant anything if THEY included Ryan.
“That doesn’t mean anything, I guess.” Ryan said. Brendon stopped again, contemplated his words for only a moment and then turned back to his long ago best friend with a look that said, “Fuck you, Ross” and he kept his peace, knowing that Ryan knew what he wanted to hear.
“I…I miss you…” It took a lot for someone like Ryan Ross to reveal such a secret, and that kind of thing Brendon should have found touching and valuable, but he found it incredibly easy to turn away from him.
7:00 Thursday night, Brendon was standing at a door; a blue door to be precise, or was it periwinkle? He didn’t knock, no doorbell rang, but those inside he knew at least one knew he was there. But Brendon was given his space, because this had to be his choice, this had to be wanted by no other than him.
He stepped to the side and leaned on the railing. Maybe this was a bad idea. He glanced inside the small window seeing…. nothing. He looked down with a sigh, he just had to face it – he was after all already there.
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