Categories > Celebrities > Panic! At The Disco > Teenage Kicks II
Chapter Two
This is pretty short sorry, the same thing happened with chapter 2 of book 1- weird. anyway, reviews will be greatly appreciated.
?Blocked
Ryan bucks his hips and moans. His toes curl and his feet tense, then his calves, knees, thighs abdominal muscles, until he’s shaking. His fingers twist around pieces of Brendon’s hair and the tightening of his muscles spread up his arms until his neck is sore. His back begins to arch as he pushes Brendon’s head down to meet him and groans something similar to “fuck.” His mouth opens and sounds dribble from the corners of his lips as they flick up into almost smiles every few seconds. His eyelids stutter open and then closed again and his tongue stops being able to move; tense and dry and stationary in his gaping hole of a mouth.
“Oh God,” He roars suddenly, twisting so hard on Brendon’s hair that Brendon’s head hurts a little bit. Ryan shuts his mouth and his teeth crash heavily against his lip; biting hard on swollen flesh. The sound of Ryan so happy pulls at everything inside Brendon’s stomach and he just has to look up at Ryan with his huge, eager eyes, so he can watch. The pulling infects every sweating thought in Brendon’s mind and he moans softly- almost sadly- when he unfolds his wet hand and uses it to wipe his mouth clean.
“No,” Ryan whines, writhing around on noisy bed sheets in protest. “Don’t go.” He begs, watching Brendon tip his head and wrap the strap of his satchel over one shoulder and across his chest.
“I have to.” Brendon laughs. Ryan pings the waistband of his underwear back into place- forgetting that he has two Brendon’s-hips shaped bruises in line with the elastic and hissing when the skin is hit- and scuttles to his feet. He sneaks up behind Brendon and captures him in a hug, declaring that he’s never letting go. Ever. Brendon laughs, falling into the hug and being bombarded with kisses along his neck and jaw.
“Go back tomorrow.” Ryan suggests and Brendon turns into him.
He presses his palms into Ryan’s chest, to stop him from kissing. “I can’t miss the first day.” He insists and Ryan pouts, but tells him to have a good day at school anyway.
*
The apartment is small. The apartment is really small and when Brendon had introduced it as “your new home,” Ryan wasn’t quite sure how to react. Maybe it was the knowledge that he hadn’t really felt like he had a home where he lived before. To him, home was Spencer- always had been. To him, home was falling asleep on the sofa in Spencer’s overly-neat living room, or being driven home the next morning by Spencer’s dad. Home was Spencer’s mom’s home cooking, birthday cupcakes and Halloween candy. But he supposed that this could be home too.
Ryan stares at the tidy empty space before him. The only thing that is out of place is the ruffled bed sheets and the pillow that managed to find its way to the floor. In his father’s house, Ryan didn’t care for being neat and his room was littered with belongings, but this is different. This is a living room merging into a bedroom merging into a kitchen and it’s clean and it’s neat and it’s not fair that Ryan’s presence should change that. Ryan struts towards the double bed and fixes the sheets. He tucks them under the mattress and fluffs the pillows, before placing them carefully in front of the wooden headboard. Then, he inspects it, tilting his head and stepping back, like an artist after they finish painting a masterpiece.
Ryan doesn’t really know what to do with his day. He thinks about going out and getting some lunch, but Brendon’s fridge has been stocked fairly recently and he thinks he saw some ham in there last night. He goes about his day elongating every minor task. He slices bread and butters it, cuts some cheese, layers the cheese on the bread, looks for the ham, finds the ham, layers that on the cheese and cuts a second piece of bread to place on top of the ham. He takes one bite of his sandwich and decides that it’s lacking in something, so sets about finding some lettuce. When he finds lettuce, he tears a leaf carefully and opens the sandwich. He places the leaf on top of the buttery ham and after one more bite, he rolls his eyes; sighing, because it tasted much better before the stupid lettuce idea just had to pop into his mind.
He stands against the kitchen cupboards and eats the mediocre sandwich, dully. When he’s finished, he decided to wash the plate, but when he turns to see the sink, the door bell rings. He jumps with excitement and prances towards the door happily. Opening it, he smiles broadly.
“Shouldn’t you be at school?” He asks. He doesn’t really care that his company is skipping classes; the question is more of a formality. He opens the door wide and beckons the nervous boy through the threshold.
“You’ve never seen this apartment have you?” Ryan asks, so glad for human life to talk to- there’s no way he would be sane for long if he had to talk to the plants all day. “It isn’t much, but I like it; I think it’s quaint and cozy. Only problem is the lack of light; that window over there isn’t much good.” Ryan points to the window above the television set, still smiling. “It’ll do though. What do you think?”
When there’s no response, his smile fades. “What’s wrong?” He panders, eyes wide open and sparkling in the artificial light. Jon sighs and takes off his coat.
*
“Tell me?!” Ryan demands, kicking the dining chair away from his own legs and standing. He slams his hands on the table and Jon juts. He recoils into himself and presses both palms into his forehead.
“I fucked Spencer.” Jon admits, limply. “I’m sorry, I- I don’t know why I did it.” His eyes roam over the wooden table and finally settle on the coffee mug he’d refused to drink from. (Or rather, he hadn’t refused, he’d been too damn nervous about talking to Ryan to drink.) Ryan begins to curse and yell and demand reasons, but Jon keeps his eye on the coffee; watching a slight tremor in the liquid every time Ryan bangs his fists against the tabletop.
“How could you do that?!” Jon hears Ryan spray and he just blurts out something vicious back. He doesn’t mean to, nor want to, but the words spill from his lips so suddenly that he hasn’t even got time to reevaluate saying it.
“Well, you did it!”
Just as Ryan’s contemplating smacking the noble, adorable, innocent sense back into Jon’s head, his cell buzzes on the coffee table, causing shimmering vibrations to cross the glass. Ryan gives Jon a sharp narrow eyed, eyebrow raised, shocked look and then turns to living room part of the apartment.
1 new msg from Spencer: school bites and mr wentz is pissed you left. can i come over? xxx
Ryan smiles at the text and focuses on the cell as he tells Jon to leave. Jon sighs bitterly and apologies, before tucking in the dining chair, fetching his coat from the back of the sofa and walking to the front door. If things had been the other way around, Ryan would have slammed the door and muttered profanities as he ran down the common stairs, but this is Jon. Jon’s not like that. He’s so careful with the door that Ryan doesn’t even hear it close.
if you bunk of school you’ll end up in mc donalds, but sure- your funeral. xxx
Ryan sets the phone back down on the coffee table and shakes his head at the coffee Jon left, rolling his eyes. He downs it- despite it being lukewarm and far too strong for his liking- and sets it down in the sink next to the plate he’d eaten from. Ryan’s barely sat down again, when the coffee table shimmers again. He wonders if Spencer will talk about Jon, wonders if they’ve seen each other since, and wonders if it’s his fault for leading Spencer astray. The text simply says thank you, with four kisses at the end of it.
“Oh God,” He roars suddenly, twisting so hard on Brendon’s hair that Brendon’s head hurts a little bit. Ryan shuts his mouth and his teeth crash heavily against his lip; biting hard on swollen flesh. The sound of Ryan so happy pulls at everything inside Brendon’s stomach and he just has to look up at Ryan with his huge, eager eyes, so he can watch. The pulling infects every sweating thought in Brendon’s mind and he moans softly- almost sadly- when he unfolds his wet hand and uses it to wipe his mouth clean.
“No,” Ryan whines, writhing around on noisy bed sheets in protest. “Don’t go.” He begs, watching Brendon tip his head and wrap the strap of his satchel over one shoulder and across his chest.
“I have to.” Brendon laughs. Ryan pings the waistband of his underwear back into place- forgetting that he has two Brendon’s-hips shaped bruises in line with the elastic and hissing when the skin is hit- and scuttles to his feet. He sneaks up behind Brendon and captures him in a hug, declaring that he’s never letting go. Ever. Brendon laughs, falling into the hug and being bombarded with kisses along his neck and jaw.
“Go back tomorrow.” Ryan suggests and Brendon turns into him.
He presses his palms into Ryan’s chest, to stop him from kissing. “I can’t miss the first day.” He insists and Ryan pouts, but tells him to have a good day at school anyway.
*
The apartment is small. The apartment is really small and when Brendon had introduced it as “your new home,” Ryan wasn’t quite sure how to react. Maybe it was the knowledge that he hadn’t really felt like he had a home where he lived before. To him, home was Spencer- always had been. To him, home was falling asleep on the sofa in Spencer’s overly-neat living room, or being driven home the next morning by Spencer’s dad. Home was Spencer’s mom’s home cooking, birthday cupcakes and Halloween candy. But he supposed that this could be home too.
Ryan stares at the tidy empty space before him. The only thing that is out of place is the ruffled bed sheets and the pillow that managed to find its way to the floor. In his father’s house, Ryan didn’t care for being neat and his room was littered with belongings, but this is different. This is a living room merging into a bedroom merging into a kitchen and it’s clean and it’s neat and it’s not fair that Ryan’s presence should change that. Ryan struts towards the double bed and fixes the sheets. He tucks them under the mattress and fluffs the pillows, before placing them carefully in front of the wooden headboard. Then, he inspects it, tilting his head and stepping back, like an artist after they finish painting a masterpiece.
Ryan doesn’t really know what to do with his day. He thinks about going out and getting some lunch, but Brendon’s fridge has been stocked fairly recently and he thinks he saw some ham in there last night. He goes about his day elongating every minor task. He slices bread and butters it, cuts some cheese, layers the cheese on the bread, looks for the ham, finds the ham, layers that on the cheese and cuts a second piece of bread to place on top of the ham. He takes one bite of his sandwich and decides that it’s lacking in something, so sets about finding some lettuce. When he finds lettuce, he tears a leaf carefully and opens the sandwich. He places the leaf on top of the buttery ham and after one more bite, he rolls his eyes; sighing, because it tasted much better before the stupid lettuce idea just had to pop into his mind.
He stands against the kitchen cupboards and eats the mediocre sandwich, dully. When he’s finished, he decided to wash the plate, but when he turns to see the sink, the door bell rings. He jumps with excitement and prances towards the door happily. Opening it, he smiles broadly.
“Shouldn’t you be at school?” He asks. He doesn’t really care that his company is skipping classes; the question is more of a formality. He opens the door wide and beckons the nervous boy through the threshold.
“You’ve never seen this apartment have you?” Ryan asks, so glad for human life to talk to- there’s no way he would be sane for long if he had to talk to the plants all day. “It isn’t much, but I like it; I think it’s quaint and cozy. Only problem is the lack of light; that window over there isn’t much good.” Ryan points to the window above the television set, still smiling. “It’ll do though. What do you think?”
When there’s no response, his smile fades. “What’s wrong?” He panders, eyes wide open and sparkling in the artificial light. Jon sighs and takes off his coat.
*
“Tell me?!” Ryan demands, kicking the dining chair away from his own legs and standing. He slams his hands on the table and Jon juts. He recoils into himself and presses both palms into his forehead.
“I fucked Spencer.” Jon admits, limply. “I’m sorry, I- I don’t know why I did it.” His eyes roam over the wooden table and finally settle on the coffee mug he’d refused to drink from. (Or rather, he hadn’t refused, he’d been too damn nervous about talking to Ryan to drink.) Ryan begins to curse and yell and demand reasons, but Jon keeps his eye on the coffee; watching a slight tremor in the liquid every time Ryan bangs his fists against the tabletop.
“How could you do that?!” Jon hears Ryan spray and he just blurts out something vicious back. He doesn’t mean to, nor want to, but the words spill from his lips so suddenly that he hasn’t even got time to reevaluate saying it.
“Well, you did it!”
Just as Ryan’s contemplating smacking the noble, adorable, innocent sense back into Jon’s head, his cell buzzes on the coffee table, causing shimmering vibrations to cross the glass. Ryan gives Jon a sharp narrow eyed, eyebrow raised, shocked look and then turns to living room part of the apartment.
1 new msg from Spencer: school bites and mr wentz is pissed you left. can i come over? xxx
Ryan smiles at the text and focuses on the cell as he tells Jon to leave. Jon sighs bitterly and apologies, before tucking in the dining chair, fetching his coat from the back of the sofa and walking to the front door. If things had been the other way around, Ryan would have slammed the door and muttered profanities as he ran down the common stairs, but this is Jon. Jon’s not like that. He’s so careful with the door that Ryan doesn’t even hear it close.
if you bunk of school you’ll end up in mc donalds, but sure- your funeral. xxx
Ryan sets the phone back down on the coffee table and shakes his head at the coffee Jon left, rolling his eyes. He downs it- despite it being lukewarm and far too strong for his liking- and sets it down in the sink next to the plate he’d eaten from. Ryan’s barely sat down again, when the coffee table shimmers again. He wonders if Spencer will talk about Jon, wonders if they’ve seen each other since, and wonders if it’s his fault for leading Spencer astray. The text simply says thank you, with four kisses at the end of it.
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