Categories > Celebrities > Panic! At The Disco > The Misadventures of a Certain Brown-Eyed Boy

Have Some Composure, Where is Your Posture?

by MyNomDePlume 3 reviews

Like I promised!

Category: Panic! At The Disco - Rating: R - Genres: Angst,Drama - Warnings: [!] [V] - Published: 2012-05-17 - Updated: 2012-05-18 - 950 words

0Unrated
A knock on the door made every inch of my body freeze up.

"We're right behind you, Brendon. Don't worry." Ryan comforted.

His soothing voice calmed me down somewhat, giving me the courage to go open the door. My dad stood in front of me with the same expression of impatience, annoyance, and a hint of disgust that he always wore whenever he saw me.

"Get your things and let's go." he commanded and my confidence faltered.

"No." I mumbled, pretending to take great interest in the pattern of the carpet.

"Speak up, you worthless-"

"I said no!" I yelled with a sudden rush of defiance.

My dad shoved me against the wall with a thud and raised his hand. I closed my eyes and flinched prematurely, bracing for impact. Before Spencer or Ryan could react, the hand swiped me across the face with incredible force, making my teeth rattle. I sank to the floor, a whimpering mess. Tears streaked down my face as I watched Spencer push my dad against the opposite wall. Ryan helped me stand up slowly, wincing as my face contorted in pain.

"Stop crying. Hush, baby, please don't cry." Ryan cooed and cradled me in his arms.

"Yeah, stop crying, you shameful excuse of a son! That's all you ever-" My dad started to yell.

"Why don't you just shut the hell up?!" Spencer shoved him harder.

The stress of the moment became too much so I threw a plan together haphazardly in my mind. I ripped away from Ryan's warm embrace, ran to the closet, and slowly brought Spencer's gun off the shelf. The three stopped fighting and came to a standstill when I came back, gun in hand. I slowly raised the gun and their eyes bulged.

The cold, metal gun against my head made each breath more difficult. My hand was shaking so I removed my finger from the trigger. One wrong move and I could lose my life.

"B-Brendon, you d-don't have to do this." Spencer stumbled over his words frantically.

I saw the fear in his eyes and started shaking harder. I couldn't bring myself to look at Ryan, my love.

"Please don't Bren. Don't leave me here alone." Ryan whispered, his voice barely audible.

My dad pursed his lips to say something but changed his mind quickly. He knew that he would just make things worse. I took a deep breath and began to speak to him.

"You ruined my life. Sometimes the beatings got so bad that I almost killed myself multiple times. Now I've had it. I can't live in constant fear of coming home anymore," tears and beads of sweat trickled down my face as my anger swelled and my grip on the gun became tighter.

I lifted my shirt and revealed the scar.

"You did this to me. You did this because I love Ryan. You did this to a 13-year-old, and I never forgot. Four years later, the beatings are engraved into my eyelids so that when I close my eyes, I see the look of pure hatred on your face and fists on replay." I confessed angrily.

"Wait, I'm so-"

"Too late for 'sorry'." I cut him off.

My finger wrapped around the trigger and the tears came faster this time.

"Brendon, please... please Brendon, just stop this." Ryan begged.

I finally looked him in the eye and saw the immense grief in his piercing hazel eyes. He walked towards me cautiously before wrapping his arms around my trembling body. His touch made me stop shaking and remember why I hadn't done this before. Ryan loved me just as much as I loved him, if not more, and I couldn't leave him.

I slowly lowered my arm and looked over at my dad. No emotion escaped from his stone-cold expression. I looked once more at Spencer before letting my grip loosen and the gun slip out of my hand, onto the floor. Ryan let go as I started to tremble once again. I felt empty inside, like a delicate shell of a person, ready to shatter into a million pieces.

Spencer looked down at his watch.

"Bren, it's midnight. You're 18." Spencer murmured.

I glared at my father, the fury in my eyes taking him aback.

"Get out," I whispered hoarsely. "Just get the fuck OUT!"

Without another word, my dad turned on his heel and stalked out of the apartment, closing the door with a slam. My lungs started burning and I realized that I had been holding in my breath. I let out my breath with a shudder and grabbed the table next to me, trying to maintain my posture and keep from falling apart. My eyes drifted towards Ryan, who was standing silently next to me. I gave him a small, broken smile, causing a single tear to run down his face. That single tear felt like a punch in the gut and I hung my head quickly to avoid his gaze. I felt an empty feeling gnawing at me from the inside out. I was a broken boy - no, man - like a glass lying shattered on the floor. Unfix-able.

I stumbled away from Ryan and into my room. I closed the door and leaned against it, making it shake with my inaudible sobs. The sobs racked my body uncontrollably, tears flowing like Niagara Falls. Someone tapped on the door, but I just ignored them.

I was hit with the brick wall known as adulthood so suddenly that I wasn't able to prepare myself. So here I was, an adult crying like a child.

Tada! I'm so proud of myself. I literally look like the cheshire cat right now. =)
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