Categories > Celebrities > Panic! At The Disco
Can I Come In?
3 reviewsSpencer never lies and Ryan never gets mad. Apart from now. RYCER one-shot. Read, review, rate and feel my love! :P
1Moving
Can I Come In?
Rap-a-tat-tat. Whistle. Click, click, click. Tat-tat.
“Fuck off, Spence.” A voice growls, every machine-gunned syllable packed with explosive meaning. “I mean it; come near me and I’ll fucking kill you.”
If this were any normal situation I’d just roll my eyes like the dice of a careless gambler and tell him to stop being such a drama-queen before springing through the door of his dad’s old shed (our clubhouse of ten years) to tackle him into a tickle-glomp. If this were any normal situation I might actually take offense at his violently vehement spits of malice, hell, I might even be terrified of his deadly-serious threat. If this were normal at all, I’d just put this down to Ryan Ross being Ryan Ross; a shameless attention-whore.
If this were normal I wouldn’t be stood out here in the slicing rain, preforming our secret clubhouse knock on the ramshackle old door that’s currently hiding my sixteen-year-old best friend from my concern-singed eyes.
“C’mon, Ryro-“
“Don’t fucking call me that, Spencer!” He yells furiously, making me take a step away from the door as though the piercing daggers being thrown from his mouth are literal rather than metaphorical and could come crashing at me any second. “Only my friends get to call me that.” His voice fractures on the word ‘friends’, then fragments and then shatters completely back into the sobs that he first started emitting when he ran to his comfort place. “Nobody gets to call me that.”
That hurts. More than his uncharacteristic anger, more than the swearing and maybe even a little bit more than the fact that I can’t wrap him up in my arms right now because to do so would be crossing the line that the bullies have made sure I can’t cross; unwanted physical contact. There’s only so much beating a boy can take, only so much misery and hurt before it becomes too much. And it has, thus resulting in my bestest buddy having more than a few trust and anxiety issues. Poor kid can barely look anyone in the eye anymore without having a hand to squeeze onto. Usually mine.
But back to the hurting; it hurts more than anything else in the whole wide world that he can say that, that he can think that he has no friends. Because it means that I’ve let him down, ruined the one thing that gave him solace in a life that I’ve managed to save from self-destruction way too many times for it be bearable.
All because of one stupid, ugly little lie.
No; because of one stupid, too-hot-for-his-own-good little prick.
Because of Pete Wentz. Or rather; Pete Wentz and Gabe Saporta. I don’t give a shit about Gabe, but Pete? He was Ry’s boyfriend, someone that the kid truly looked up to and adored and trusted and found actual happiness in. Pete knew that Ryan’s fragile, Pete’s held him whilst he cried, Pete’s seen the bruises that litter Ry’s porcelain skin like coffee stains on snow; fuck, I’m pretty sure the guy, three years older than my best friend might I add, even knew about the scars on Ryan’s wrists and how they came to be. How I managed to get to him before they could become more than just a horrific ghost of what might have been had I not found him on his bathroom floor all those months ago.
Pete knew everything. And yet he still fucking did it. Still slept around at Gabe’s house, in Gabe’s bed with Gabe wrapped around him like a cheap whore. That’s not the worst of it though. Far from it.
I knew.
For months and months I knew but I never did anything, never said anything. Pete made Ryan happy; how could I take that away from him?
I wish I had now though. I wish I could’ve broken it to him gently, held him as he mourned the death of his first inkling of love-bought joy and then showed him how much better than Pete he is; how much better I can love him than that bastard ever could. I didn’t. I kept quiet no matter how much I wanted to get Pete away from my precious little Ryro and now I’m paying the price for betraying one of the shyest people I know. Because Gabe finally got bored of being the secret fuck and text Ry a picture that made him shake and quiver and breakdown completely; one of Gabe and Pete at a party, hands in places that make me want to vomit just thinking about it.
The look on my face had given away my knowledge immediately and when Ryan asked me if I’d known, eyes tear-stretched wide, I didn’t have the heart to lie to him all over again. So then he ran, despite the beating he was given this morning by the kids whose homework he forgot to do, and locked himself up in our clubhouse.
Bringing me to where I’m stood now; outside the little wooden shack, the heavens themselves spitting at me in disgrace for what I’ve done.
“Ryan, I’m really sorry.” I pause, wincing at how pathetic I sound. Kind of like a toddler begging his mom for forgiveness after eating all of the cookies in the sacred jar. “I just, I…”
My voice trails off at the sound of Ryan’s broken sobbing, the sobbing that I should be corking with my lips. Just like I should have been from the start, like I was going to tell him that I wanted to do the day that Pete asked him out. He’d been so pleased that someone as ‘amazing’ as Pete Wentz wanted him in that way that I just couldn’t bring myself to mess it up for him. Because that’s how much, how honestly I really do care about the kid.
“You what, Spence?” It’s meant to sound angry but with the shake in his dying voice that’s an impossibility. And that kills me. “You thought I wouldn’t mind that my boyfriend was fucking someone else whilst I was too scared to let him fuck me for the first time? You didn’t think I had the right to know that I was just some toy for him? Or did you think it was funny, Spence? Had a good laugh at the stupid little retard?” I can tell that he’s trying not to, but I can hear him crying, hear the misery choking his stumbling words. “I mean, I must have been pretty dumb, right? Thinking that someone could love me. As fucking if.”
Oh Ry. Pete’s really broken you, hasn’t he?
No. I have. If only I’d just been honest from the start then none of this would have happened to the poor little angel; the angel with the torn-our wings.
Fuck this, I’m going in.
I grab the chain around my neck, the one that’s barely left where it can touch my skin since I got it for my twelfth birthday from my best friend, and pull it up from under my Green Day t-shirt to reveal my most prized possession; an old, slightly rusted, key to the clubhouse. Prized because it’s so much more than just some dull piece of metal. It’s good memories, it’s my childhood and, above all else, it’s Ryan’s trust.
Something that I’ve just managed to destroy completely.
Before I know it, and before I can even think my actions through, I’m jamming the key into the stiff lock and twisting it around with such urgency that it’s a miracle it doesn’t snap in two. I swing the door open like I’m tearing tissue paper and look around the small room to see something that breaks my heart completely, as clichéd as that may sound; Ryan curled in the far corner, wrapped in one of my old sweaters that I left here years back, knees pulled up tight into his chest and face buried in his hands, weeping like an erupting volcano of sorrow.
So I slide to kneel next to him, reach out a hand to touch his shoulder and offer him a soft smile when he finally looks up. There’s none of the venom in his eyes that I heard in his voice, something that tells me he doesn’t really hate me, only unbridled agony. The kind that makes me wish it were spite.
Without giving me so much as a whimper of warning, he catapults himself into my arms and hides his head in my pillowy chest as though hiding from the world means that it can’t hurt him anymore. It can’t; I refuse to let it. Not when he’s already so damaged inside, damaged enough to search for comfort in someone who’s betrayed him enough to break him.
“Oh, Ry. It’s all gonna be okay, I promise.” I sigh, pushing a soft kiss into his hair before I can consider any negative effects this could have on his unstable emotional state. I like the way his caramel hair feels against my lips; fluffy, like candyfloss, and fine, like gold dust. So soft, so precious, so perfect; so Ryan Ross. “You’re too good for Pete anyway. Way too good.”
He blinks up at me, eyes starting to glow a little at the hope my words are thankfully bestowing upon him.
“B-but why didn’t you tell me, Spence?”
“Because whenever I saw him with you, you were always smiling. I like seeing you smile, Ry. I love it when you’re happy. And I just couldn’t take that all away from you.” I whisper, my lips finding his cheek this time and planting a peck onto it, thus causing a rose-bush-blush to blossom onto his intricate face. “You deserve to be happy and I’d give anything to make you smile like he did.”
“Anything?”
I nod at his tiny mouse-squeak of a question, not stopping for a second to consider my answer because I really don’t need to. Not this time.
“Anything for you, Ry.”
“Give me words, Spence.” His voice is near-silent silk in my ears, his tone intoxicating me and pulling me into his charm like it unknowingly has so many times before. “You always know what to say.”
“How many words do you want, Ryro?” I reply, starting to catch onto what he’s shyly nudging at in his own unique little way.
“Just three… maybe. If you’ll give them.”
I cup his face in my hands, making his bashful eyes look into mine so that I can see for sure that he’s playing along with this because he wants to and not just because it’s pretty fucking obvious that it’s what I want. I see nothing but everything I’ve ever dreamt of; adoration, love and just pure, honest-to-God George Ryan Ross the Third.
My Ryro.
“I love you.”
A/N: Thanks for reading and I hope you liked it! Sorry if the ending seemed rushed/obvious, but it was the best I could come up with. Please let me know what you think! :)
Rap-a-tat-tat. Whistle. Click, click, click. Tat-tat.
“Fuck off, Spence.” A voice growls, every machine-gunned syllable packed with explosive meaning. “I mean it; come near me and I’ll fucking kill you.”
If this were any normal situation I’d just roll my eyes like the dice of a careless gambler and tell him to stop being such a drama-queen before springing through the door of his dad’s old shed (our clubhouse of ten years) to tackle him into a tickle-glomp. If this were any normal situation I might actually take offense at his violently vehement spits of malice, hell, I might even be terrified of his deadly-serious threat. If this were normal at all, I’d just put this down to Ryan Ross being Ryan Ross; a shameless attention-whore.
If this were normal I wouldn’t be stood out here in the slicing rain, preforming our secret clubhouse knock on the ramshackle old door that’s currently hiding my sixteen-year-old best friend from my concern-singed eyes.
“C’mon, Ryro-“
“Don’t fucking call me that, Spencer!” He yells furiously, making me take a step away from the door as though the piercing daggers being thrown from his mouth are literal rather than metaphorical and could come crashing at me any second. “Only my friends get to call me that.” His voice fractures on the word ‘friends’, then fragments and then shatters completely back into the sobs that he first started emitting when he ran to his comfort place. “Nobody gets to call me that.”
That hurts. More than his uncharacteristic anger, more than the swearing and maybe even a little bit more than the fact that I can’t wrap him up in my arms right now because to do so would be crossing the line that the bullies have made sure I can’t cross; unwanted physical contact. There’s only so much beating a boy can take, only so much misery and hurt before it becomes too much. And it has, thus resulting in my bestest buddy having more than a few trust and anxiety issues. Poor kid can barely look anyone in the eye anymore without having a hand to squeeze onto. Usually mine.
But back to the hurting; it hurts more than anything else in the whole wide world that he can say that, that he can think that he has no friends. Because it means that I’ve let him down, ruined the one thing that gave him solace in a life that I’ve managed to save from self-destruction way too many times for it be bearable.
All because of one stupid, ugly little lie.
No; because of one stupid, too-hot-for-his-own-good little prick.
Because of Pete Wentz. Or rather; Pete Wentz and Gabe Saporta. I don’t give a shit about Gabe, but Pete? He was Ry’s boyfriend, someone that the kid truly looked up to and adored and trusted and found actual happiness in. Pete knew that Ryan’s fragile, Pete’s held him whilst he cried, Pete’s seen the bruises that litter Ry’s porcelain skin like coffee stains on snow; fuck, I’m pretty sure the guy, three years older than my best friend might I add, even knew about the scars on Ryan’s wrists and how they came to be. How I managed to get to him before they could become more than just a horrific ghost of what might have been had I not found him on his bathroom floor all those months ago.
Pete knew everything. And yet he still fucking did it. Still slept around at Gabe’s house, in Gabe’s bed with Gabe wrapped around him like a cheap whore. That’s not the worst of it though. Far from it.
I knew.
For months and months I knew but I never did anything, never said anything. Pete made Ryan happy; how could I take that away from him?
I wish I had now though. I wish I could’ve broken it to him gently, held him as he mourned the death of his first inkling of love-bought joy and then showed him how much better than Pete he is; how much better I can love him than that bastard ever could. I didn’t. I kept quiet no matter how much I wanted to get Pete away from my precious little Ryro and now I’m paying the price for betraying one of the shyest people I know. Because Gabe finally got bored of being the secret fuck and text Ry a picture that made him shake and quiver and breakdown completely; one of Gabe and Pete at a party, hands in places that make me want to vomit just thinking about it.
The look on my face had given away my knowledge immediately and when Ryan asked me if I’d known, eyes tear-stretched wide, I didn’t have the heart to lie to him all over again. So then he ran, despite the beating he was given this morning by the kids whose homework he forgot to do, and locked himself up in our clubhouse.
Bringing me to where I’m stood now; outside the little wooden shack, the heavens themselves spitting at me in disgrace for what I’ve done.
“Ryan, I’m really sorry.” I pause, wincing at how pathetic I sound. Kind of like a toddler begging his mom for forgiveness after eating all of the cookies in the sacred jar. “I just, I…”
My voice trails off at the sound of Ryan’s broken sobbing, the sobbing that I should be corking with my lips. Just like I should have been from the start, like I was going to tell him that I wanted to do the day that Pete asked him out. He’d been so pleased that someone as ‘amazing’ as Pete Wentz wanted him in that way that I just couldn’t bring myself to mess it up for him. Because that’s how much, how honestly I really do care about the kid.
“You what, Spence?” It’s meant to sound angry but with the shake in his dying voice that’s an impossibility. And that kills me. “You thought I wouldn’t mind that my boyfriend was fucking someone else whilst I was too scared to let him fuck me for the first time? You didn’t think I had the right to know that I was just some toy for him? Or did you think it was funny, Spence? Had a good laugh at the stupid little retard?” I can tell that he’s trying not to, but I can hear him crying, hear the misery choking his stumbling words. “I mean, I must have been pretty dumb, right? Thinking that someone could love me. As fucking if.”
Oh Ry. Pete’s really broken you, hasn’t he?
No. I have. If only I’d just been honest from the start then none of this would have happened to the poor little angel; the angel with the torn-our wings.
Fuck this, I’m going in.
I grab the chain around my neck, the one that’s barely left where it can touch my skin since I got it for my twelfth birthday from my best friend, and pull it up from under my Green Day t-shirt to reveal my most prized possession; an old, slightly rusted, key to the clubhouse. Prized because it’s so much more than just some dull piece of metal. It’s good memories, it’s my childhood and, above all else, it’s Ryan’s trust.
Something that I’ve just managed to destroy completely.
Before I know it, and before I can even think my actions through, I’m jamming the key into the stiff lock and twisting it around with such urgency that it’s a miracle it doesn’t snap in two. I swing the door open like I’m tearing tissue paper and look around the small room to see something that breaks my heart completely, as clichéd as that may sound; Ryan curled in the far corner, wrapped in one of my old sweaters that I left here years back, knees pulled up tight into his chest and face buried in his hands, weeping like an erupting volcano of sorrow.
So I slide to kneel next to him, reach out a hand to touch his shoulder and offer him a soft smile when he finally looks up. There’s none of the venom in his eyes that I heard in his voice, something that tells me he doesn’t really hate me, only unbridled agony. The kind that makes me wish it were spite.
Without giving me so much as a whimper of warning, he catapults himself into my arms and hides his head in my pillowy chest as though hiding from the world means that it can’t hurt him anymore. It can’t; I refuse to let it. Not when he’s already so damaged inside, damaged enough to search for comfort in someone who’s betrayed him enough to break him.
“Oh, Ry. It’s all gonna be okay, I promise.” I sigh, pushing a soft kiss into his hair before I can consider any negative effects this could have on his unstable emotional state. I like the way his caramel hair feels against my lips; fluffy, like candyfloss, and fine, like gold dust. So soft, so precious, so perfect; so Ryan Ross. “You’re too good for Pete anyway. Way too good.”
He blinks up at me, eyes starting to glow a little at the hope my words are thankfully bestowing upon him.
“B-but why didn’t you tell me, Spence?”
“Because whenever I saw him with you, you were always smiling. I like seeing you smile, Ry. I love it when you’re happy. And I just couldn’t take that all away from you.” I whisper, my lips finding his cheek this time and planting a peck onto it, thus causing a rose-bush-blush to blossom onto his intricate face. “You deserve to be happy and I’d give anything to make you smile like he did.”
“Anything?”
I nod at his tiny mouse-squeak of a question, not stopping for a second to consider my answer because I really don’t need to. Not this time.
“Anything for you, Ry.”
“Give me words, Spence.” His voice is near-silent silk in my ears, his tone intoxicating me and pulling me into his charm like it unknowingly has so many times before. “You always know what to say.”
“How many words do you want, Ryro?” I reply, starting to catch onto what he’s shyly nudging at in his own unique little way.
“Just three… maybe. If you’ll give them.”
I cup his face in my hands, making his bashful eyes look into mine so that I can see for sure that he’s playing along with this because he wants to and not just because it’s pretty fucking obvious that it’s what I want. I see nothing but everything I’ve ever dreamt of; adoration, love and just pure, honest-to-God George Ryan Ross the Third.
My Ryro.
“I love you.”
A/N: Thanks for reading and I hope you liked it! Sorry if the ending seemed rushed/obvious, but it was the best I could come up with. Please let me know what you think! :)
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