Categories > Celebrities > Panic! At The Disco
Who Are You?
Baggy jeans held up with a black belt bearing the logo of something that I think is meant to represent a gun of some sort. A blue polo shirt emblazoned with the mark of one of those overpriced brands that all the ‘cool’ kids go crazy for. A watch that blatantly cost more money than my Saturday job could make me in a year. Hair combed into one of those stupid hairstyles that are meant to look effortless but clearly took longer than an hour to perfect. A clean face; no make-up, not even those adorably original little eyeliner doodles, just a boringly blank canvas.
Everything standing in front of me is not my boyfriend, is not Brendon Urie’s Ryan Ross. It’s a zombie, a clone of everything that I thought we both hate.
“Brendon? Stop staring. Please.” He mumbles, fingers twisting nervously into the fabric of his top. “D-don’t you like it?”
At that I have to laugh because no, I really fucking don’t and he knows it. Just like I know that he doesn’t, yet here we are; it’s the first day back at school and I’m stood on his doorstep, waiting for him so that I can drive our asses over to hell where can join up with Jon and Spencer. Just like we do every year, meet up and then laugh about all the stupid shit we did over the summer. This year I’m going to tell them about how I nearly burnt the kitchen down making an omelette at three in the morning and then Ry will say how that’s nothing compared to what he managed to do whilst attempting to bake a dog-friendly cake for Hobo’s half-birthday.
But this is something new. Now, I’m not against changes or newness but this just isn’t Ryan. This is more like those ‘boring’ kids that pick on him; the ones that make him cry and hide himself in my body. This is them, not him.
“Ry, Sweetie, what the fuck are you wearing?” I’m trying my best to keep a straight face at how unlike-Ryro he looks, but I just can’t help the rumble of a chuckle that trickles out of my lips.
It stops being funny when I spot something on his unblemished cheek; a tear, rolling down the length of his face until it plunges off his chin like a broken man jumping off of a building. It’s soon accompanied by millions of it’s evil brothers and sisters, storming down Ry’s face until it’s more water than skin. His lips are quivering, soft sobs clawing out of the soft heaven that is my boyfriend’s mouth.
He’s crying, and it’s all my fault. All because I laughed at him for being different to what I think he should look like. God, I’m no better than those douches at school.
“Shit, Sweetie. I’m sorry, I. Please, don’t cry, Baby. Please.” I coo, tugging him forward into my arms with his head nestled firmly into my chest; it’s a miracle he isn’t immediately deafened by the sound of my heart breaking for him. “It’s just, you look different, y’know?”
He nods, but does nothing to remove himself from my grip.
“You don’t like it.”
I sigh, thinking about the best way to dig myself out of the grave I’ve just managed to bury myself in. Ryan’s sensitive, maybe even to a fault, so I should really have known better than to just laugh at him like that. But it’s not like I was doing it to be nasty; I could never do anything to purposefully hurt such a sweet guy. My sweet guy.
My hands start to brush gently through his hair and I feel him lean even further into me, seemingly trying to hide from everything that can/will hurt him because he knows that whilst I am around, nothing will.
“It’s not you.” I press a kiss into his hair, just like I always do whenever he’s upset or scared and needs to be reminded that I’m right here with him, for him. “You look like them.”
A long expanse of desert-like silence stretches out between us, the only sign at all that Ryan’s not just some random corpse being that I can feel his heartbeat crashing against my chest, telling me just how worked up he is getting over something so small. It’s not small to Ry though; to Ry it’s clearly important. Important enough to make it matter a hell of a lot to me, because Ryan’s my entire fucking world.
Just like I am his.
“I just want them to like me, Bren.” He lets out a long, laboured breath. “Hell, I don’t even want that. I want them to not hurt me anymore. Not make fun of me.” He looks up, eyes like that of a puppy who can’t understand why it’s owner is punishing it. “Pretty stupid, huh?”
“No, Ry. You’re not stupid, Sweetie. It’s not stupid that you want that.” I pull him out of me a little so that I can gaze into his eyes, show him how perfect I think he is. “What’s stupid is that you have to change to get it. Even then though, Sweetie, do you honestly think that it’ll change anything?” When he looks like he’s about to burst into tears again, I quickly press my lips onto his. “They are who they are and you are who you are; nothing can change that and nor should you want it to. Hey, normal Ryan Ross isn’t so bad, is he? I mean, he’s got a pretty good boyfriend going for him. And he wouldn’t have that boyfriend if he wasn’t perfect just the way he is.”
I feel Ryan pull fully out of my embrace, making my eyes flash to his lips to see if I’m doing a good job; I am met with a quiet sort of smile, a sincere one that makes my insides melt into a kind of bittersweet bliss.
“Hang on a minute, Bren.” He turns to go back in his house. “I just gotta go sort my make-up out.”
A/N: Just a short little Rydon one-shot that I thought of at school today, it being my first day back and all. I have the world’s worst headache right now, so I apologize for any errors that I have made. Thanks for reading, I hope you liked it and please let me know what you think! :)
Baggy jeans held up with a black belt bearing the logo of something that I think is meant to represent a gun of some sort. A blue polo shirt emblazoned with the mark of one of those overpriced brands that all the ‘cool’ kids go crazy for. A watch that blatantly cost more money than my Saturday job could make me in a year. Hair combed into one of those stupid hairstyles that are meant to look effortless but clearly took longer than an hour to perfect. A clean face; no make-up, not even those adorably original little eyeliner doodles, just a boringly blank canvas.
Everything standing in front of me is not my boyfriend, is not Brendon Urie’s Ryan Ross. It’s a zombie, a clone of everything that I thought we both hate.
“Brendon? Stop staring. Please.” He mumbles, fingers twisting nervously into the fabric of his top. “D-don’t you like it?”
At that I have to laugh because no, I really fucking don’t and he knows it. Just like I know that he doesn’t, yet here we are; it’s the first day back at school and I’m stood on his doorstep, waiting for him so that I can drive our asses over to hell where can join up with Jon and Spencer. Just like we do every year, meet up and then laugh about all the stupid shit we did over the summer. This year I’m going to tell them about how I nearly burnt the kitchen down making an omelette at three in the morning and then Ry will say how that’s nothing compared to what he managed to do whilst attempting to bake a dog-friendly cake for Hobo’s half-birthday.
But this is something new. Now, I’m not against changes or newness but this just isn’t Ryan. This is more like those ‘boring’ kids that pick on him; the ones that make him cry and hide himself in my body. This is them, not him.
“Ry, Sweetie, what the fuck are you wearing?” I’m trying my best to keep a straight face at how unlike-Ryro he looks, but I just can’t help the rumble of a chuckle that trickles out of my lips.
It stops being funny when I spot something on his unblemished cheek; a tear, rolling down the length of his face until it plunges off his chin like a broken man jumping off of a building. It’s soon accompanied by millions of it’s evil brothers and sisters, storming down Ry’s face until it’s more water than skin. His lips are quivering, soft sobs clawing out of the soft heaven that is my boyfriend’s mouth.
He’s crying, and it’s all my fault. All because I laughed at him for being different to what I think he should look like. God, I’m no better than those douches at school.
“Shit, Sweetie. I’m sorry, I. Please, don’t cry, Baby. Please.” I coo, tugging him forward into my arms with his head nestled firmly into my chest; it’s a miracle he isn’t immediately deafened by the sound of my heart breaking for him. “It’s just, you look different, y’know?”
He nods, but does nothing to remove himself from my grip.
“You don’t like it.”
I sigh, thinking about the best way to dig myself out of the grave I’ve just managed to bury myself in. Ryan’s sensitive, maybe even to a fault, so I should really have known better than to just laugh at him like that. But it’s not like I was doing it to be nasty; I could never do anything to purposefully hurt such a sweet guy. My sweet guy.
My hands start to brush gently through his hair and I feel him lean even further into me, seemingly trying to hide from everything that can/will hurt him because he knows that whilst I am around, nothing will.
“It’s not you.” I press a kiss into his hair, just like I always do whenever he’s upset or scared and needs to be reminded that I’m right here with him, for him. “You look like them.”
A long expanse of desert-like silence stretches out between us, the only sign at all that Ryan’s not just some random corpse being that I can feel his heartbeat crashing against my chest, telling me just how worked up he is getting over something so small. It’s not small to Ry though; to Ry it’s clearly important. Important enough to make it matter a hell of a lot to me, because Ryan’s my entire fucking world.
Just like I am his.
“I just want them to like me, Bren.” He lets out a long, laboured breath. “Hell, I don’t even want that. I want them to not hurt me anymore. Not make fun of me.” He looks up, eyes like that of a puppy who can’t understand why it’s owner is punishing it. “Pretty stupid, huh?”
“No, Ry. You’re not stupid, Sweetie. It’s not stupid that you want that.” I pull him out of me a little so that I can gaze into his eyes, show him how perfect I think he is. “What’s stupid is that you have to change to get it. Even then though, Sweetie, do you honestly think that it’ll change anything?” When he looks like he’s about to burst into tears again, I quickly press my lips onto his. “They are who they are and you are who you are; nothing can change that and nor should you want it to. Hey, normal Ryan Ross isn’t so bad, is he? I mean, he’s got a pretty good boyfriend going for him. And he wouldn’t have that boyfriend if he wasn’t perfect just the way he is.”
I feel Ryan pull fully out of my embrace, making my eyes flash to his lips to see if I’m doing a good job; I am met with a quiet sort of smile, a sincere one that makes my insides melt into a kind of bittersweet bliss.
“Hang on a minute, Bren.” He turns to go back in his house. “I just gotta go sort my make-up out.”
A/N: Just a short little Rydon one-shot that I thought of at school today, it being my first day back and all. I have the world’s worst headache right now, so I apologize for any errors that I have made. Thanks for reading, I hope you liked it and please let me know what you think! :)
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