Categories > Celebrities > Panic! At The Disco
Tears
The first time that I saw him he was crying; two icy torrents of nitro-glycerine splintering his innocently childlike face, smudging the intricate masterpieces of his eyeliner doodles and amplifying the shattered glass of his irises. Irises that were so enchanting that I just couldn’t look away from their magnetizing depth which seemed to make my heart yearn to drown in them like a chocoholic in a vat of the finest melted chocolate. It was there, right in the middle of the school corridor on the third week of my freshman year, that I fell in love with the boy who had rubies hanging from his nose and diamonds dangling on his thick, black eyelashes.
I’d been looking at him since my first day, we shared a History class and was instantly drawn to him like a moth to a flame, like a unicorn to a rainbow; I just never really realised that I was in love with him until that day, a hazy Wednesday full of heat waves and grouchy teachers, when I first spoke to him. I wish that I could have formally met him under nicer conditions that befitted my sweet little Ryro far better than the squeaky linoleum of the corridor, but at the same time I’m glad that it was me who found him with a bloody nose and a broken heart.
Because at least that way I got to be the one to mend it. To mend it and claim it as my own; to have Ryan Ross in the crook of my arm, just like he was designed to be.
”Oh, please don’t cry, Buddy!”
“Buddy?”
“Yeah. Someone’s gotta help ya; I might as well be your friend whilst I’m doing it. Buddy.”
“Why d’you want to help me? Nobody else does.”
“Because I like you. You’re pretty and kind and you don’t deserve to be sad.”
“You… You think I’m pretty?”
“Course I do! You’re so cute and girly, just makes me wanna cuddle you up like a teddy-bear!”
“Are you insane?”
“Yep! Yay, you’re smiling!”
“So are you. Buddy.”
For the first few months of knowing him I’d often find him with forget-me-not tears littering the landscape of his pale face and with lips trembling like a whisper on the wind. It stabbed at my soul every time that I saw him like it, like everything had just become too much and nothing could ever make him truly happy. Nothing aside from me, anyway. Within a week of finding him on the floor like a fallen angel I had him snuggling into me, laughing at all of my dumb jokes and just being himself in my presence, even after finding him in tears minutes before.
He’d never tell me what was wrong, would just try to blink away the tears with those butterfly eyelashes of his in such a way that made me ache inside; I was his best, not to mention only, friend and it was up to me to ensure his well-being. So of course seeing him sad makes me feel a million times worse because it means that I’ve failed him, let down the one person in the world who actually doesn’t deserve all of the shit that people throw at him. Threw at him; past tense now because I can apparently be extremely intimidating when it comes to protecting my Ryan. But I guess that was obvious; he is mine after all.
I can still remember the first time we traded those fairy-tale ‘three-little-words’; in fact, it had started off with his tears. It ended with our infamously insatiable kisses.
“What’s up, Buddy?”
“Nothing.”
“I don’t believe you. Why are you crying?”
“It’s nothing, Bren. Honest it isn’t.”
“Don’t lie to me, Ryro; I’m your best friend. Let me help you so I can see that pretty little smile of yours.”
“Am I your best friend back?”
“Well, duh! Why wouldn’t you be? I’d rather be a spoon than not have you as my best friend.”
“A spoon? What’s so bad about being a spoon?”
“I dunno. Just said it because I thought it’d make you smile.”
“Why do you like my smile so much?”
“Look in a mirror, Ry. You’re so fucking pretty when you smile. I love it… I love you.”
“I love you too, Brendon. You make me smile.”
I always knew that being with Ryan Ross wouldn’t be the easiest thing in the world, what with all of the bullies who can’t handle someone daring to be themselves without being ashamed of it, and I always welcome any challenge with open arms; I’d slay a dragon for Ry, just as long as he’d be the princess awaiting my return. I love the thought of rescuing my little mouse of a boyfriend from the clutching claws of life’s sick sense of humour, but I’d much rather he didn’t need rescuing in the first place.
I only met Ryan’s dad once and that one time was more than enough for me to be able to get a painfully clear picture of my boyfriend’s home life; he reeked of alcohol, had eyes as bloodshot as a burst vein and a tongue that seemed far too big for his snarling mouth. Someone way too huge and rough to be any sort of good for someone as sweet and shy as my Ry. The one time that I did meet him was when I was dropping Ryan off at his house; his dad had stumbled outside just as we were kissing each other good night. And had promptly yanked my baby away from me, into the cave of their hallway where I could hear Mr Ross’ furious yells and Ryan’s bunny-rabbit whimpers. Leaving me with nothing but a hammering heart and a scorching desire to punch something whilst imagining it to be Mr Ross’ head.
The next morning at school was so much worse, though. Far worse than any time before it; it was one of the rare times that I couldn’t get my boyfriend to smile for me.
”Beautiful, where did that bruise come from?”
“What bruise where, Brenny?”
“The one that you’re trying to hide with make-up. Badly.”
“I don’t know what you’re going on about now, my insane little weirdo.”
“Babe, I’m not joking around. Look at me, Sweetness.”
“No! It’s fine. I’m fine. Can’t you just accept that I’m fine for fucking once?”
“Calm down, Ry. Are you sure you’re fine?”
“Br-bren… I-I’m sorry, I-I…”
“Oh, c’mere, don’t cry! It’s okay. I got ya, I’m not gonna let you get hurt again; you don’t have to be scared anymore. Just tell me who.”
“I can’t!”
“Yes, Ryan, you can. I believe in you.”
“I-it was my dad.”
A few months ago was my baby at his worst. Thanks to that recklessly stupid father of his; I swear to God, if it wasn’t for the fact that Ryan seems adamant that he loves him the man would already be dead. Or at least slightly concussed. You see, a few months ago Ry’s dad took one drink too many; thus forcing my desperately terrified boyfriend to come home to find the man passed out across the living room floor, a trickle of vomit smearing the side of his father’s lifeless face.
I let him down that day; I wasn’t there for him when he needed me. I was stuck in a goddamn afterschool detention, waiting to bust out like a lion being kept from the stunning freedom that nature offers. By the time that I broke free of my evil art teacher’s cruel clutches, I had an array of voicemail messages staining my baby’s hopelessness onto the memory of my beat-up old Nokia. Each one more helplessly heart-breaking than the last and each making it perfectly clear that my boy needed me, that I’d let him down in a moment where he really needed me by his side. But I didn’t dwell on that; I just leapt into my barely roadworthy Peugeot and flawed it straight to the hospital that was dragging my angel through the hell that his life seems to be whenever I’m not right there fighting the flames off with him.
When I’d gotten there he was nothing but a dilapidated pile of broken kid, slumped harshly in one of the many uniformly stiff waiting-room chairs. And he was sobbing his heart out.
”Ry! Thank God, you’re alright! C’mere, give me a cuddle.”
“Bren? You came!” “
“Course I did, Sweetness. You’re my boyfriend, of course I came.”
“B-but I called you and it went to voicemail and I didn’t think you’d come but you did and now you’re here and, Bren!”
“Okay, Baby, okay. Shush, I got you. I’m not letting you go. Even if you want me to, I’m not letting you go.”
“I thought he was dead, I thought he’d left me!”
“I know, Ry, I know. But he’s gonna be alright. Hell, maybe he’ll even learn something, stupid bastard.”
“Don’t, Brendon. Not here. Not now. Please.”
“Sorry, Sweetness. I just worry about you.”
“Sorry.”
“No, Ryan, you haven’t done anything to be sorry for.”
“I let him get drunk again!”
“This isn’t your fault, Ryan. I know you don’t believe me, but I know that I’m right. Look, I want you to stay around mine for a few days, okay? Mom already said that it’s fine.”
“Okay. Love you, Bren.”
“Aw, Baby, I love you too.”
Last week it was his seventeenth birthday, making me one year younger than him rather than the adult that I always seem to end up being around him. It’s not that I don’t think he’s mature, it’s just that he’s too naïve to accept anything as not being his fault and so he needs someone like me to look after him. And I need someone like him to take care of; he gives me a meaning and a purpose, two things that my life was lacking before he entered it several lightning-fast years ago.
He’s still staying with me, despite the original idea being for a few days it turned into a few weeks because whenever I go around to his old house to collect more of his stuff the place is always rife with the fumes of alcohol that I’ve learnt to associate with my baby’s unhappiness. My mom adores Ryan; thinks that he’s the best-mannered, sweetest kid she’s ever met and that I could apparently learn a lot from his behaviour. Ry and I share my bedroom, share my bed too so that whenever he has a nightmare or so much as whimpers in his sleep I can make it all better for him. He is doing a hell of a lot better now that he’s staying with me and his birthday was joyful proof of that.
After all, it was the first time that I’ve enjoyed seeing his magic-crystal tears sprinkle his dainty cheeks.
”You like it, Ryro?”
“I… I can’t take this, Bren. You know I can’t pay you back, right?”
“You’re too cute for words! Of course you’re not meant to pay me back; it’s a birthday present, you silly boy!”
“But it must have cost a fortune!”
“Nah, it wasn’t too expensive. Don’t you worry about that.”
“Bren, electric guitars like this cost over two hundred dollars!”
“Three hundred, actually.”
“Brendon, I can’t ta-“
“And I’d pay three hundred more to see you smile like this. You really have no idea how much you mean to me, do you?”
“Stop trying to change the subject!”
“You mean more to me than money, hell you mean more to me than my goddamn car and you know how much I love her.”
“Bren-“
“I just wanna see you happy, Beautiful. To see that pretty little smile of yours.”
“Do you know that you were the first person to actually be nice to me? That I thought when you first met me that you were just teasing me. I didn’t mind though, I liked even the thought of having a friend.”
“Oh, Ry. Don’t cry; you can’t cry on your birthday!”
“It’s alright, Bren. I’m crying because I’m happy. Because you make me happy. Because you love me.”
“And you love me too.”
I guess you could say that there have been a lot of tears with me and Ryan. There have been, but that’s okay; I’ve helped him through all of his, just like he’s helped me through all of mine.
Besides, things are changing for us. Because now the only tears that I’m going to be seeing from him are ones of joy. And even if they aren’t, then at least I’ll be here to make it all better.
Because that’s what boyfriends do. Especially when their better half is Ryan Ross.
A/N: Thank you very much for reading this, I hope that it was alright. I had a day off school today and, although I was supposed to be resting, I wrote me a Rydon. Thanks for reading and please let me know what you think! :)
The first time that I saw him he was crying; two icy torrents of nitro-glycerine splintering his innocently childlike face, smudging the intricate masterpieces of his eyeliner doodles and amplifying the shattered glass of his irises. Irises that were so enchanting that I just couldn’t look away from their magnetizing depth which seemed to make my heart yearn to drown in them like a chocoholic in a vat of the finest melted chocolate. It was there, right in the middle of the school corridor on the third week of my freshman year, that I fell in love with the boy who had rubies hanging from his nose and diamonds dangling on his thick, black eyelashes.
I’d been looking at him since my first day, we shared a History class and was instantly drawn to him like a moth to a flame, like a unicorn to a rainbow; I just never really realised that I was in love with him until that day, a hazy Wednesday full of heat waves and grouchy teachers, when I first spoke to him. I wish that I could have formally met him under nicer conditions that befitted my sweet little Ryro far better than the squeaky linoleum of the corridor, but at the same time I’m glad that it was me who found him with a bloody nose and a broken heart.
Because at least that way I got to be the one to mend it. To mend it and claim it as my own; to have Ryan Ross in the crook of my arm, just like he was designed to be.
”Oh, please don’t cry, Buddy!”
“Buddy?”
“Yeah. Someone’s gotta help ya; I might as well be your friend whilst I’m doing it. Buddy.”
“Why d’you want to help me? Nobody else does.”
“Because I like you. You’re pretty and kind and you don’t deserve to be sad.”
“You… You think I’m pretty?”
“Course I do! You’re so cute and girly, just makes me wanna cuddle you up like a teddy-bear!”
“Are you insane?”
“Yep! Yay, you’re smiling!”
“So are you. Buddy.”
For the first few months of knowing him I’d often find him with forget-me-not tears littering the landscape of his pale face and with lips trembling like a whisper on the wind. It stabbed at my soul every time that I saw him like it, like everything had just become too much and nothing could ever make him truly happy. Nothing aside from me, anyway. Within a week of finding him on the floor like a fallen angel I had him snuggling into me, laughing at all of my dumb jokes and just being himself in my presence, even after finding him in tears minutes before.
He’d never tell me what was wrong, would just try to blink away the tears with those butterfly eyelashes of his in such a way that made me ache inside; I was his best, not to mention only, friend and it was up to me to ensure his well-being. So of course seeing him sad makes me feel a million times worse because it means that I’ve failed him, let down the one person in the world who actually doesn’t deserve all of the shit that people throw at him. Threw at him; past tense now because I can apparently be extremely intimidating when it comes to protecting my Ryan. But I guess that was obvious; he is mine after all.
I can still remember the first time we traded those fairy-tale ‘three-little-words’; in fact, it had started off with his tears. It ended with our infamously insatiable kisses.
“What’s up, Buddy?”
“Nothing.”
“I don’t believe you. Why are you crying?”
“It’s nothing, Bren. Honest it isn’t.”
“Don’t lie to me, Ryro; I’m your best friend. Let me help you so I can see that pretty little smile of yours.”
“Am I your best friend back?”
“Well, duh! Why wouldn’t you be? I’d rather be a spoon than not have you as my best friend.”
“A spoon? What’s so bad about being a spoon?”
“I dunno. Just said it because I thought it’d make you smile.”
“Why do you like my smile so much?”
“Look in a mirror, Ry. You’re so fucking pretty when you smile. I love it… I love you.”
“I love you too, Brendon. You make me smile.”
I always knew that being with Ryan Ross wouldn’t be the easiest thing in the world, what with all of the bullies who can’t handle someone daring to be themselves without being ashamed of it, and I always welcome any challenge with open arms; I’d slay a dragon for Ry, just as long as he’d be the princess awaiting my return. I love the thought of rescuing my little mouse of a boyfriend from the clutching claws of life’s sick sense of humour, but I’d much rather he didn’t need rescuing in the first place.
I only met Ryan’s dad once and that one time was more than enough for me to be able to get a painfully clear picture of my boyfriend’s home life; he reeked of alcohol, had eyes as bloodshot as a burst vein and a tongue that seemed far too big for his snarling mouth. Someone way too huge and rough to be any sort of good for someone as sweet and shy as my Ry. The one time that I did meet him was when I was dropping Ryan off at his house; his dad had stumbled outside just as we were kissing each other good night. And had promptly yanked my baby away from me, into the cave of their hallway where I could hear Mr Ross’ furious yells and Ryan’s bunny-rabbit whimpers. Leaving me with nothing but a hammering heart and a scorching desire to punch something whilst imagining it to be Mr Ross’ head.
The next morning at school was so much worse, though. Far worse than any time before it; it was one of the rare times that I couldn’t get my boyfriend to smile for me.
”Beautiful, where did that bruise come from?”
“What bruise where, Brenny?”
“The one that you’re trying to hide with make-up. Badly.”
“I don’t know what you’re going on about now, my insane little weirdo.”
“Babe, I’m not joking around. Look at me, Sweetness.”
“No! It’s fine. I’m fine. Can’t you just accept that I’m fine for fucking once?”
“Calm down, Ry. Are you sure you’re fine?”
“Br-bren… I-I’m sorry, I-I…”
“Oh, c’mere, don’t cry! It’s okay. I got ya, I’m not gonna let you get hurt again; you don’t have to be scared anymore. Just tell me who.”
“I can’t!”
“Yes, Ryan, you can. I believe in you.”
“I-it was my dad.”
A few months ago was my baby at his worst. Thanks to that recklessly stupid father of his; I swear to God, if it wasn’t for the fact that Ryan seems adamant that he loves him the man would already be dead. Or at least slightly concussed. You see, a few months ago Ry’s dad took one drink too many; thus forcing my desperately terrified boyfriend to come home to find the man passed out across the living room floor, a trickle of vomit smearing the side of his father’s lifeless face.
I let him down that day; I wasn’t there for him when he needed me. I was stuck in a goddamn afterschool detention, waiting to bust out like a lion being kept from the stunning freedom that nature offers. By the time that I broke free of my evil art teacher’s cruel clutches, I had an array of voicemail messages staining my baby’s hopelessness onto the memory of my beat-up old Nokia. Each one more helplessly heart-breaking than the last and each making it perfectly clear that my boy needed me, that I’d let him down in a moment where he really needed me by his side. But I didn’t dwell on that; I just leapt into my barely roadworthy Peugeot and flawed it straight to the hospital that was dragging my angel through the hell that his life seems to be whenever I’m not right there fighting the flames off with him.
When I’d gotten there he was nothing but a dilapidated pile of broken kid, slumped harshly in one of the many uniformly stiff waiting-room chairs. And he was sobbing his heart out.
”Ry! Thank God, you’re alright! C’mere, give me a cuddle.”
“Bren? You came!” “
“Course I did, Sweetness. You’re my boyfriend, of course I came.”
“B-but I called you and it went to voicemail and I didn’t think you’d come but you did and now you’re here and, Bren!”
“Okay, Baby, okay. Shush, I got you. I’m not letting you go. Even if you want me to, I’m not letting you go.”
“I thought he was dead, I thought he’d left me!”
“I know, Ry, I know. But he’s gonna be alright. Hell, maybe he’ll even learn something, stupid bastard.”
“Don’t, Brendon. Not here. Not now. Please.”
“Sorry, Sweetness. I just worry about you.”
“Sorry.”
“No, Ryan, you haven’t done anything to be sorry for.”
“I let him get drunk again!”
“This isn’t your fault, Ryan. I know you don’t believe me, but I know that I’m right. Look, I want you to stay around mine for a few days, okay? Mom already said that it’s fine.”
“Okay. Love you, Bren.”
“Aw, Baby, I love you too.”
Last week it was his seventeenth birthday, making me one year younger than him rather than the adult that I always seem to end up being around him. It’s not that I don’t think he’s mature, it’s just that he’s too naïve to accept anything as not being his fault and so he needs someone like me to look after him. And I need someone like him to take care of; he gives me a meaning and a purpose, two things that my life was lacking before he entered it several lightning-fast years ago.
He’s still staying with me, despite the original idea being for a few days it turned into a few weeks because whenever I go around to his old house to collect more of his stuff the place is always rife with the fumes of alcohol that I’ve learnt to associate with my baby’s unhappiness. My mom adores Ryan; thinks that he’s the best-mannered, sweetest kid she’s ever met and that I could apparently learn a lot from his behaviour. Ry and I share my bedroom, share my bed too so that whenever he has a nightmare or so much as whimpers in his sleep I can make it all better for him. He is doing a hell of a lot better now that he’s staying with me and his birthday was joyful proof of that.
After all, it was the first time that I’ve enjoyed seeing his magic-crystal tears sprinkle his dainty cheeks.
”You like it, Ryro?”
“I… I can’t take this, Bren. You know I can’t pay you back, right?”
“You’re too cute for words! Of course you’re not meant to pay me back; it’s a birthday present, you silly boy!”
“But it must have cost a fortune!”
“Nah, it wasn’t too expensive. Don’t you worry about that.”
“Bren, electric guitars like this cost over two hundred dollars!”
“Three hundred, actually.”
“Brendon, I can’t ta-“
“And I’d pay three hundred more to see you smile like this. You really have no idea how much you mean to me, do you?”
“Stop trying to change the subject!”
“You mean more to me than money, hell you mean more to me than my goddamn car and you know how much I love her.”
“Bren-“
“I just wanna see you happy, Beautiful. To see that pretty little smile of yours.”
“Do you know that you were the first person to actually be nice to me? That I thought when you first met me that you were just teasing me. I didn’t mind though, I liked even the thought of having a friend.”
“Oh, Ry. Don’t cry; you can’t cry on your birthday!”
“It’s alright, Bren. I’m crying because I’m happy. Because you make me happy. Because you love me.”
“And you love me too.”
I guess you could say that there have been a lot of tears with me and Ryan. There have been, but that’s okay; I’ve helped him through all of his, just like he’s helped me through all of mine.
Besides, things are changing for us. Because now the only tears that I’m going to be seeing from him are ones of joy. And even if they aren’t, then at least I’ll be here to make it all better.
Because that’s what boyfriends do. Especially when their better half is Ryan Ross.
A/N: Thank you very much for reading this, I hope that it was alright. I had a day off school today and, although I was supposed to be resting, I wrote me a Rydon. Thanks for reading and please let me know what you think! :)
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