Categories > Celebrities > Panic! At The Disco > A Story of Complications
I woke up on an un-familiar bed, to a familiar scent of Red Bull and Pop Tarts. "Brendon..." I muttered smiling to myself and inhaling the scent deeply. After a few minutes I sat up, recalling what had happened just hours before. I looked out the window that was right next to the bed, and realized that I was only in my boxers. It was raining outside, a slight drizzle, that looked like it would go away at any moment. But rain always looked like it when it manged to show up, not that it ever really rained. But still. I looked over at the clock, 8. I got up, wondering around the big house, wondering if anyone else was hiding in one of the rooms. It probably wasn't all that big, but it was compared to the duplex I used to live in.
I sighed, used to. I felt sick. I found myself starting to cry silently. No one else was here. No sound, no movement. Nothing other than the sound of my stifled sobs. I found the kitchen, looking at the block of wood where the knives resided. I felt a smile creep on my face, even with the tears still flowing down my cheeks like the steady rain. I picked one up, examining it. Sharp and shiny. I put it on the skin of my wrist, pushing it down far enough to break the skin. Sliding it across the pale flesh. I then repeated the process multiple times on both wrists. I started to get dizzy as I heard the sound of something fall to the floor. I held on to the counter to help keep myself balanced, and looked to see the knife on the ground, surrounded by a small pool of blood. I heard a door open, and a gasp. Followed by lots of fast talking that I couldn't mange to process. I fell on the floor next to the knife and the pool of blood.
I felt someone pick up my arms, and then I felt a cloth on my arm, followed by a wrap. I opened my eyes, and even with my blurred vision, Brendon was still as beautiful as he always was. He hugged me. "Oh, Ryan, why?" He whispered in my ear.
"I couldn't find you." I spoke, my voice cracking slightly. He shook his head and brushed the hair out of my face. I leaned into his touch. His skin was nice and cool on my hot flesh. "Why did you leave?"
"I was buying you a present. Jon and Spencer told me you used to have a guitar."
"I did, my dad broke it....I'm not even sure how."
"How what?"
"How he died." I said as I rested my head on his shoulder.
"It could have been anything." I nodded.
"So Spencer and Jon told you that I used to play?"
"Yeah, hold on." He got up, and I whined a little to myself as I lost his comfort.
He came back about a minute later carrying a black guitar case. He sat down, opening it so I couldn't see what was inside. He looked at me smiling, and I still couldn't see what he was holding. He then closed the case, handing me a shiny new white guitar. "I can't take this." I said. It was most likely the most expensive thing I had ever gotten as a present. Even the one I had before was cheap and used.
"We all pulled our money together. And if you don't take it, I'll be offended." I smiled a little, holding it, looking at it like a little kid.
"Are you sure?" I asked. He nodded smiling.
"Only if you play some right now." I laughed a little, and even though my wrists hurt like crazy, I played some for him. "You know Spencer, Jon and I were talking about starting a band. And they wanted me to ask you." He said smiling. And I said yes. And we had a band. And surprisingly enough, we got signed. By Pete Wentz. And after Jon and Spencer and I graduated senior year, and Brendon dropped out of school, we started our first CD. And after we got it released, we went on tour as the opening act of Fall Out Boy.
Which is where we are now, three weeks before the end of the tour. And I'm sitting on the couch, waiting for Brendon to get home from partying with Peter. He took care of him, always dragging his drunken ass back for Patrick to deal with. And I waited him to make sure that Pete hadn't gotten him into any trouble. Which he had done a few times already. I was sitting on the couch, a movie playing, even though I wasn't paying any attention to it. Spencer and Jon had gone to bed. And I was reading while waiting for him to get back.
I sighed, used to. I felt sick. I found myself starting to cry silently. No one else was here. No sound, no movement. Nothing other than the sound of my stifled sobs. I found the kitchen, looking at the block of wood where the knives resided. I felt a smile creep on my face, even with the tears still flowing down my cheeks like the steady rain. I picked one up, examining it. Sharp and shiny. I put it on the skin of my wrist, pushing it down far enough to break the skin. Sliding it across the pale flesh. I then repeated the process multiple times on both wrists. I started to get dizzy as I heard the sound of something fall to the floor. I held on to the counter to help keep myself balanced, and looked to see the knife on the ground, surrounded by a small pool of blood. I heard a door open, and a gasp. Followed by lots of fast talking that I couldn't mange to process. I fell on the floor next to the knife and the pool of blood.
I felt someone pick up my arms, and then I felt a cloth on my arm, followed by a wrap. I opened my eyes, and even with my blurred vision, Brendon was still as beautiful as he always was. He hugged me. "Oh, Ryan, why?" He whispered in my ear.
"I couldn't find you." I spoke, my voice cracking slightly. He shook his head and brushed the hair out of my face. I leaned into his touch. His skin was nice and cool on my hot flesh. "Why did you leave?"
"I was buying you a present. Jon and Spencer told me you used to have a guitar."
"I did, my dad broke it....I'm not even sure how."
"How what?"
"How he died." I said as I rested my head on his shoulder.
"It could have been anything." I nodded.
"So Spencer and Jon told you that I used to play?"
"Yeah, hold on." He got up, and I whined a little to myself as I lost his comfort.
He came back about a minute later carrying a black guitar case. He sat down, opening it so I couldn't see what was inside. He looked at me smiling, and I still couldn't see what he was holding. He then closed the case, handing me a shiny new white guitar. "I can't take this." I said. It was most likely the most expensive thing I had ever gotten as a present. Even the one I had before was cheap and used.
"We all pulled our money together. And if you don't take it, I'll be offended." I smiled a little, holding it, looking at it like a little kid.
"Are you sure?" I asked. He nodded smiling.
"Only if you play some right now." I laughed a little, and even though my wrists hurt like crazy, I played some for him. "You know Spencer, Jon and I were talking about starting a band. And they wanted me to ask you." He said smiling. And I said yes. And we had a band. And surprisingly enough, we got signed. By Pete Wentz. And after Jon and Spencer and I graduated senior year, and Brendon dropped out of school, we started our first CD. And after we got it released, we went on tour as the opening act of Fall Out Boy.
Which is where we are now, three weeks before the end of the tour. And I'm sitting on the couch, waiting for Brendon to get home from partying with Peter. He took care of him, always dragging his drunken ass back for Patrick to deal with. And I waited him to make sure that Pete hadn't gotten him into any trouble. Which he had done a few times already. I was sitting on the couch, a movie playing, even though I wasn't paying any attention to it. Spencer and Jon had gone to bed. And I was reading while waiting for him to get back.
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