Categories > Celebrities > Panic! At The Disco > The Tears Won't Fall if the Heart Stops Beating

Chapter Three

by rkeeler 4 reviews

Category: Panic! At The Disco - Rating: PG-13 - Genres: Angst - Published: 2011-09-04 - Updated: 2011-09-05 - 2516 words

Saturday, mid-afternoon.
Brendon checked his phone for the umpteenth time, scrolling through his old messages, as if reading old text messages would make one from Ryan appear. He hadn't heard from him at all last night nor at all today, and had said he would help him with his French. Brendon sat at the chair by his desk, knees tucked under him, spinning aimlessly in circles. His French book lay closed on the desk, and he used it to help push the chair to spin faster.
Bored with spinning, and getting quite dizzy, the boy reached for his phone again. Nothing. He let out a tiny sigh and leaned back, staring at the ceiling. Maybe Ryan didn't like him. Maybe he thought he was just this annoying loudmouth kid from Hawaii. He had tried to make a good impression by toning down his..."Brendon-ness". He had learned from a young age that he had to censor himself, as his true hyperactive self had the tendency to scare a lot of people off. There was something about Ryan that made him believe he could be himself though.
The boy put his head between his knees and gripped at his hair. You've fucking done it again Urie, he thought. He cringed, looking back at the past two days, and realized how completely idiotic he had acted. The more he thought about it, the worse and worse the situation seemed. Jon and Ryan were just putting up with me. They didn't really want to be my friend. They must think I'm some brainless loud mouth. Ryan must think I'm an idiot for not being able to understand even the most simple of French.
All alone on a sunny Saturday afternoon, Brendon sat in his room, let his thoughts run wild, and tear him down. It's not like Brendon was shy, far from it. He often appeared very confident. But he would always wonder if people truly liked him. He couldn't imagine people liking him for him, and often thought people we're annoyed by him.
Then his phone rang. He reached for it slowly. It won't be Ryan. Though a small part of him hoped that it would be. He really did like Ryan, even though he had seemed to convince himself that Ryan didn't care for him at all. He had a nice smile, Brendon mused. It was small, and kind of rare, but he liked his lips. The way they would curl up, expose his perfect teeth. He liked the way a smile would light up his eyes. They were like some sort of golden hazel color. Ryan also had really pretty hair. It was kind of messy and seemed to flop over his eyes a lot, but it was like a "I'm so good looking that even messy hair looks hot on me" kind of style.
A sudden silence in the room snapped Brendon out of his thoughts. Remembering the phone in his hand, he looked down, surprised to see one missed call from Jon, and quickly redialed.
"Hey Jon, its Brendon. Sorry I missed your call. I was.. uh... spinning in my chair."
"Of course you were," Jon chuckled.
"Hey, uh, have you heard from Ryan?" Brendon's curiosity got the best of him.
"Nah, not since yesterday in school."
"Hey man, don't worry about it. Ryan's notorious for disappearing for a couple days. Weren't you guys doing something today?"
"Umm, no..well, he said he'd help me with my French but it's not like we had agreed to any time so it's cool if I haven't heard from him, it's not like we're kindergarteners on a play date so it's not like he can't have his own life and I don't want to like intrude I'm sure he's super busy and has other stuff to do then help me with my French, I mean it's my fault I can't understand it, but sometimes it just gets really difficult ya know? There's so many verbs and different conjugations but Ryan was really good at them it seemed, like it was weird how much he knew he just must be super smart but it's not like I thought he was dumb or anything---"
"DUDE. CHILL." Jon interrupted, cutting off Brendon's endless rambling, "I'll give you his number. Lazy fucker is probably just still sleeping."
"Would you really? Thank you! Because he never gave it to me and I ---"
"HIS NUMBER IS-" Jon yelled over Brendon, cutting him off before he could start up again.
"Sorry." Brendon mumbled.
"It's cool man." Jon replied, laughing as he gave Brendon the number. "Oh hey, my mom just called me-WHAT MA? ...I DON'T KNOW ASK DAD."
Brendon cringed, pulling his phone away from his ear and Jon yelled to his mother, and into the receiver.
"I SAID I DON'T KNOW! ...WELL FIND OUT! Oh hey. Sorry Brendon. I have to go help my mom with something. Good luck with your French."
"WHAT?" Brendon yelled into his phone as loud as he could.
"Fuck man! Why so loud?"
"Fuck you!" Jon replied, laughing, before hanging up.
Brendon laughed, before looking at the post-it he had copied Ryan's number down on and falling silent. He was nervous dialing the number...and wasn't sure why. It was only Ryan right? He listened to the phone ring, disappointed when there was no answer, and opted to leave a voicemail. I should probably stop bugging him now. He's probably asleep like Jon said. The boy stared at his phone, almost longingly for a few more minutes, before his boredom got the best of him and he sat down at his keyboard. He started by plunking out some melodies, simple things he had arranged himself, before transitioning to Third Eye Blind's Slow Motion. The song always had a calming effect on Brendon, and every time he heard it, the utterly disturbing lyrics made him stop and think. He played softly, and soon added his voice. Brendon had never sung in front of anyone before. This was one of the few things the boy was insecure about. He had no clue whether his voice was good or not, but enjoyed it so much that to him it didn't really matter, as long as his parents weren't home. As he played the bridge, his voice swelled and his vibrato filled the room. Brendon was so engaged in his song that he forgot his phone was in his pocket.

Ryan let out a small groan. His body felt like his bones had been replaced with lead. He struggled to open his eyes, hissing quietly when he managed to squint, the low light seemingly too bright. The boy spent laid there on the hard floor. There was a glow from his phone a few feet in front of him, and Ryan managed to make out 3:00pm. He had been laying there for hours. His body ached to move and stretch, but as he tentatively struggled to raise an arm, it collapsed back to the floor with a weak flump. He closed his eyes again, hoping to fall back asleep, and try to deal with the pain when he woke up again, but his body ached so much that once again he attempted to move. His stiff joints cracked as he slowly stretched his legs and reached for his phone, careful not to move too much. But Ryan had stretched just a little too far, and when his hand locked around his phone, pain seared through his body. Ryan didn't need to look; he knew his ribs were even more damaged than before. He gently applied pressure to his side with his fingers and tried to ignore the throbbing in his head and the pain coursing through. Ryan couldn't feel any broken ribs, which he considered an accomplishment. They had taken a beating throughout the years, and he wouldn't have been surprised to find a broken rib..again.
Lying on the floor had become too torturous. Sucking in as large as a breath as he could without causing too much pain to his side, Ryan scrambled from the floor, grasping the side of his bed, and hoisted himself up to a slightly hunched standing position. Hurt literally racked his body, and the boy cried out loudly before quieting and berating himself for being too noisy. But his head felt light, the world seemed fuzzy, and he wobbled on his poorly stable feet. He hobbled over to his desk, clutching it for more support while trying to remain standing. He shook his head, trying to clear the wooziness and make more sense. Swaying for a few more minutes, the world began to lose its haze, and Ryan was able to think and see more clearly. Not wanting to sit down risk irritating his bruises and contusions, the boy pulled out his phone, and saw one missed call, and it wasn't from Jon. Confused, he dialed his voicemail, and his lips tugged at a small grin when he heard the ramblings of Brendon's voice...about Saturday. Ryan's face fell as he felt guilt for ditching the boy. He hesitated, but redialed the number, hoping that it wasn't too late to call back.
After multiple rings, he was about to hang up, when the ringing stopped. No one said hello though, and Ryan stayed on the phone, curious as to why there was no answer or voicemail. His ears were greeted by the muffled sound of piano, and he vaguely recognized the tune. Figuring it was the wrong number, he was about to hang up, when he heard someone's voice coming through the line. In tune perfectly with the piano, Ryan heard a younger male's voice. From his obstructed hearing, Ryan managed to catch some of the lyrics, and quickly recognized his favorite Third Eye Blind song. Whoever was singing had an amazing voice. It was strong and powerful, and seemed to emit such an emotion that could only come from that song. Ryan didn't want to intrude, and it seemed he had the wrong number, but the voice was so heavenly that he decided to continue and listen. It was one of the most astounding things he had ever heard. All of a sudden, the voice cut out, and a last chord rang, before Ryan's eardrums were met by a loud yell and a huff.
"Fine! I'm turning it off now."
He heard someone sigh, and then a lot of rustling, before the still ringing chord was cut short, by what Ryan assumed was someone turning off their keyboard.
Now slightly amused, Ryan continued to listen, before realizing that the voice that yelled seemed oddly familiar. The boy hurriedly hung up. That couldn't have been Brendon singing? ...could it? Ryan was in a slight shock. It must have been him, he was sure of it, the voice was too familiar. But the singing? Dear god, thought Ryan, please don't let that be him that was singing. That person had the best fucking voice I've ever heard. God forbid Brendon is even more perfect.
Ryan just sat there and stared at his phone. He ran his fingers over its dents and scratches, accumulated from years of abuse. He wasn't thinking about anything....he didn't want to think about anything. His dad, Brendon, his backpack filled with unfinished homework, he just let it sit in the back of his mind. He laid down on his back, ignoring his body's painful complaints, and studied the ceiling. What an odd pattern for a ceiling, he mused. I wonder who designed this house. I wonder what the workers who built this were like. Were they married? Did they have a family? Were the Mexican? Maybe one of the workers was a dad, and every night after putting the hammer away he got to go home and be greeted by a kiss on the cheek by his wife, and a hug by his daughter as she came running to the door, cheering 'Daddy's home!' Ryan stopped and thought about that picture. Must be nice, he scoffed.
Ryan had forgotten his phone was on silent and didn't see he was getting a call until he noticed the glow of the screen as it lit up. He didn't recognize the number.
"Hullo?" He answered, voice scratchy.
"Ryan?" A voice spoke.
"Yeah.... Brendon?" Ryan replied, recognizing the voice.
"Uh yeah, hi! How are you?"
"I'm fucking wonderful!" The boy said, with false cheer and sharp sarcasm.
"Oh...ok" Brendon faltered, "um...well, I was just wondering, I mean, I know - fuck." He huffed. "Why didn't you call me? I've been sitting here all afternoon losing my mind to these conjugations."
Ryan heard the pout in his voice, and could literally see it through the phone.
"Yeah, I'm really sorry about that," Ryan faltered, trying to come up with an excuse. "I was just, um-"
"Wait. I'm sorry." Brendon cut him off. "Jon said you were probably sleeping, that was rude of me to just snap at you, and I didn't mean to sound needy or anything and you just met me and I'm sure you had other stuff you'd rather be doing then helping me...." he trailed off.
"Look, Bren," he sighed, and Brendon noticed he had received a new nickname, "I'm really sorry. I did want to help you, I just got...sidetracked."
"Oh ok!" The cheer was back in the other boy's voice right now. "So what are you up to now? I still need the help...if you're free."
Ryan contemplated. He wanted to see Brendon...he liked the boy. But then he looked down at his body, and could feel his heartbeat in his face, making it ache with pain with each thump around the bruises.
", how about tomorrow? Noon?" he offered. Ryan figured he could keep his movement to a minimum so not to irritate the wounds, and use coverup on his face, just give it a night for the swelling to go down.
"I, uh, can't do that. I have church."
"Oh about after church?"
" see...I'm a mormon. "Brendon trailed off... "Our service last hours."
"Oh!" Ryan was surprised. He never pegged Brendon as a mormon. "Ok, whatever then. We can find a time."
"You mean you don't care?"
"Care about what?"
"That I'm a mormon...I mean, some people don't really like to hear that. Think I'm gonna go all religious on them or something."
Ryan laughed. "I don't care."
"Ok then!" Brendon's voice picked up. "I'm free tomorrow around 6ish! We could do French then. And eat pizza."
Ryan's stomach growled at the thought. He hadn't eaten since...a while ago. "Yeah that sounds good."
"Thanks for offering to help man, I'll see you tomorrow."
Brendon hung up and Ryan was met by the dial tone.
"See ya tomorrow..."

A/N: Sorry it's taken so long to update... and that this chapter isn't that great. But it's back! Feedback and reviews would be appreciated, it inspires me to write more ^_^
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