Categories > Celebrities > Panic! At The Disco > Escort Me?
6. Sadness
What had made me say those words? Why did I say what I said? After giving it thought, it all made sense. No normal person would turn someone into their own little sex kitten. Seriously, who does that? You only would if you liked someone. So now that I actually thought about it, after finding out the truth, I found it did make sense. And now he hated me.
I fell to my knees in front of his door and rested my forehead against it. It didn’t help that I felt like shit though. I took a deep breath as I felt tears fall down my face, “Brendon…” I whispered. I didn’t think he’d hear. But now, now that I knew the truth, I didn’t want to leave him alone. I didn’t want to go home. I didn’t want to get married. I had someone in my life who actually cared about me. And his name was not Carmen. His name was Brendon Urie.
I ended up falling asleep in front of his door. I awoke because of a jolt of the door. He had swung open. I woke up, letting my hands fall to the ground in front of me. I looked up and saw Brendon standing there in jeans and a button-up shirt. He just stared at me for the longest time before he asked, “Have you been out here all night?” and I nodded. He mumbled something and pulled me up, “Go home.”
“No,” I whispered.
“Have you been crying? Wow, you really are weak hearted. That’s sad. Just leave. Go home. I told you all I had to say last night and nothing has changed. I’m not going to pine after you anymore. Ryan, go the fuck home.”
I couldn’t move though. I wouldn’t. I took a deep breath, “But I like you too,” I whispered. It was true. It might not seem that way, since he’d just told me the night before that he liked me and I was an idiot. But I wanted another chance. What he had been doing just confused me because it’s not something an escort would do for a client.
I watched as he laughed humorlessly, “Take your pity back. I don’t want it. Now go home. I have to go to work,” he closed the door behind him and walked off, past me. And it hurt. It really hurt.
But I did what my mind made me do. I ran to him and grabbed his hand before falling to my knees. Wow, I’d resorted to begging, “It’s not pity. I do like you. Can’t you just… look at me and know? You’re the only thing in my life that hasn’t treated me like I’m some kind of… a leper.”
He laughed, “You’re the one who said I was just an escort and that you didn’t want a fake boyfriend. And now, you find out that I’m not an escort anymore and I genuinely like you and your mind has completely changed? You expect me to believe that?” he shook his head, “Wow, Ryan, just wow. Let go of me,” he pulled his hand away and got into the elevator. The doors closed and I just watched them.
I fell to my elbows and allowed myself to fall over and just lay there in a ball. The fetal position had always been comforting. I didn’t want to be in this predicament. I wanted him to say that it was okay and to take me into his apartment. But this isn’t some love story. This was real life. And that wasn’t going to happen. So I pulled myself up and went home.
Brendon’s POV
There’s such a thing as tough love. And there’s such a thing as idiocy. After I got into that elevator, I was trying to decide which I’d just done. It wasn’t until I got to work that I realized. It was idiocy. Pure idiocy. He actually liked me, didn’t he? And I shot him down. And now he was going to get married to some skank and there was nothing I could do about it.
After work, I tried calling him, but I got the voicemail over and over and over again. Either he forgot his phone existed, it was dead, or he was ignoring my calls. I stared at my phone as I set it down on the coffee table. I’d stare at it until he called me back. An hour… nothing. Two hours… nothing. Three hours… Nothing. He wasn’t going to call me. Four hours… I had fallen asleep. Every time I heard a vibration or my ringtone, I’d jump up. But it was never him.
I’d lost him. Months passed and I hadn’t heard from him or about him, except in the papers. I didn’t know that he was famous. Well, no, he wasn’t before. But Carmen. Carmen Villanueva was. She was this fashion designer who was progressively getting bigger. And everyone loved her line. It was self-titled Villanueva. So Ryan was going with her to fashion shows. They were acting all lovey-dovey. And there was nothing I could do about it.
I just wished there was. And one day, I was taking in the mail and I found something from an address I didn’t recognize. I tore it open and read it.
You have cordially been invited to the wedding of
George Ryan Ross
&
Carmen Abigail Villanueva
On June 27th.
I stared at it for a long time. There were other details, but I kept staring at his name. He was getting married to her. I mean, I knew that, but it just hit me. I fell to my knees in my living room and I clutched it to my chest. I was losing him. And he sent me an invite to show me just how much I was losing him. Could he get any more cruel?
And more cruel yet, I wanted to go. It would torture me so much more than I could stand, but I was going to go. I was invited, I would go. Even if I knew how much it would kill me to say the words ‘I do’ to someone that wasn’t me, I would go. I felt my heart clench at the very thought of watching the one guy I ever liked marry someone else, even if he didn’t want to.
After some time, curled up and clenching the paper, I got to my feet and set it down. I made my way into the bathroom to take a shower. As the water fell over me, I slid down the wall and stared across from me at the tile. How had I messed up so badly?
It was nearing June 27th and I had my tuxedo ready, as well as the gift I’d bring. I had RSVPed as well. So they knew I was coming. They asked if I wanted a plus one. And my question, in my head was, ‘Who would I even bring?’ but I simply said no.
Over the past few months, I’d been plotting ideas of how to get Carmen to not want to marry Ryan. I could make her think he has AIDS, but then that wouldn’t be good publicity. I didn’t know what to do. Oh! I could say I was pregnant with his kid! Yeah, that would work perfectly! …If I had a vagina. I was so screwed. I was killing myself by going to this wedding.
And yet, here I was, standing in my full length mirror, looking at the bowtie to make sure it was perfect. It was June 27th. The day I might kill myself. Actually, no, I was about 95% sure that, if I wasn’t with Ryan by the time the day was over, I would kill myself. I didn’t want to be in a world where the guy I actually liked was married to someone else.
And with that cheery thought, I left. I got into my car and I drove to the chapel they’d be getting married in. It wasn’t too big. It was actually rather small, which surprised me. I walked in and sat down near the back. The wedding was bound to start soon. I just listened to everyone chatting amongst themselves about how good this wedding was and how excited they were that Ryan was finally settling down.
No, fuck you! He should be settling down with me! Not that skank. I was going to be bitter this entire day, wasn’t I? And yet I came. I still didn’t know why. And then I saw Ryan come out. And he looked amazing. He looked gorgeous in his tuxedo. He was turned out toward the entrance, where the bitch would be coming in. And I just wanted to stand up and walk down the aisle in her place. I wanted to say I do. I wanted to kiss him and be his husband.
Whoa, that was moving a bit fast, head. Yeah, really way too fast. And then the wedding march started and I was so tempted to move from my seat and walk up there instead. But I didn’t. I was frozen. I watched as each person moved forward down the white fabric. And then the evil spawn of Satan started walking down it, dressed in white. She should be dressed in red or black. Because she’s evil. She’s stealing my Ryan from me!
And then she was standing across from him and she took his hand with a smile. He smiled back at her and it almost seemed like he wanted this. Or maybe he’d gotten really good at pretending. I drowned out most of what the reverend was saying because I didn’t want to hear all that bullshit about being together forever, and the symbolism behind a wedding. And then I heard him say “Is there anyone in the audience who believes these two should not be wed?”
And when I looked up, Ryan was staring straight at me. That hurt.
---
A/N: So this is a day early, but I work tomorrow, so I wouldn't have the chance to put it up then, so here you go. Remember, this is the NON MPREG version! It has nothing to do with the chapter about them meeting up again and the whole Adam thing. Please rate and review! I'm really proud of this chapter. I really enjoyed writing it. :)
What had made me say those words? Why did I say what I said? After giving it thought, it all made sense. No normal person would turn someone into their own little sex kitten. Seriously, who does that? You only would if you liked someone. So now that I actually thought about it, after finding out the truth, I found it did make sense. And now he hated me.
I fell to my knees in front of his door and rested my forehead against it. It didn’t help that I felt like shit though. I took a deep breath as I felt tears fall down my face, “Brendon…” I whispered. I didn’t think he’d hear. But now, now that I knew the truth, I didn’t want to leave him alone. I didn’t want to go home. I didn’t want to get married. I had someone in my life who actually cared about me. And his name was not Carmen. His name was Brendon Urie.
I ended up falling asleep in front of his door. I awoke because of a jolt of the door. He had swung open. I woke up, letting my hands fall to the ground in front of me. I looked up and saw Brendon standing there in jeans and a button-up shirt. He just stared at me for the longest time before he asked, “Have you been out here all night?” and I nodded. He mumbled something and pulled me up, “Go home.”
“No,” I whispered.
“Have you been crying? Wow, you really are weak hearted. That’s sad. Just leave. Go home. I told you all I had to say last night and nothing has changed. I’m not going to pine after you anymore. Ryan, go the fuck home.”
I couldn’t move though. I wouldn’t. I took a deep breath, “But I like you too,” I whispered. It was true. It might not seem that way, since he’d just told me the night before that he liked me and I was an idiot. But I wanted another chance. What he had been doing just confused me because it’s not something an escort would do for a client.
I watched as he laughed humorlessly, “Take your pity back. I don’t want it. Now go home. I have to go to work,” he closed the door behind him and walked off, past me. And it hurt. It really hurt.
But I did what my mind made me do. I ran to him and grabbed his hand before falling to my knees. Wow, I’d resorted to begging, “It’s not pity. I do like you. Can’t you just… look at me and know? You’re the only thing in my life that hasn’t treated me like I’m some kind of… a leper.”
He laughed, “You’re the one who said I was just an escort and that you didn’t want a fake boyfriend. And now, you find out that I’m not an escort anymore and I genuinely like you and your mind has completely changed? You expect me to believe that?” he shook his head, “Wow, Ryan, just wow. Let go of me,” he pulled his hand away and got into the elevator. The doors closed and I just watched them.
I fell to my elbows and allowed myself to fall over and just lay there in a ball. The fetal position had always been comforting. I didn’t want to be in this predicament. I wanted him to say that it was okay and to take me into his apartment. But this isn’t some love story. This was real life. And that wasn’t going to happen. So I pulled myself up and went home.
Brendon’s POV
There’s such a thing as tough love. And there’s such a thing as idiocy. After I got into that elevator, I was trying to decide which I’d just done. It wasn’t until I got to work that I realized. It was idiocy. Pure idiocy. He actually liked me, didn’t he? And I shot him down. And now he was going to get married to some skank and there was nothing I could do about it.
After work, I tried calling him, but I got the voicemail over and over and over again. Either he forgot his phone existed, it was dead, or he was ignoring my calls. I stared at my phone as I set it down on the coffee table. I’d stare at it until he called me back. An hour… nothing. Two hours… nothing. Three hours… Nothing. He wasn’t going to call me. Four hours… I had fallen asleep. Every time I heard a vibration or my ringtone, I’d jump up. But it was never him.
I’d lost him. Months passed and I hadn’t heard from him or about him, except in the papers. I didn’t know that he was famous. Well, no, he wasn’t before. But Carmen. Carmen Villanueva was. She was this fashion designer who was progressively getting bigger. And everyone loved her line. It was self-titled Villanueva. So Ryan was going with her to fashion shows. They were acting all lovey-dovey. And there was nothing I could do about it.
I just wished there was. And one day, I was taking in the mail and I found something from an address I didn’t recognize. I tore it open and read it.
You have cordially been invited to the wedding of
George Ryan Ross
&
Carmen Abigail Villanueva
On June 27th.
I stared at it for a long time. There were other details, but I kept staring at his name. He was getting married to her. I mean, I knew that, but it just hit me. I fell to my knees in my living room and I clutched it to my chest. I was losing him. And he sent me an invite to show me just how much I was losing him. Could he get any more cruel?
And more cruel yet, I wanted to go. It would torture me so much more than I could stand, but I was going to go. I was invited, I would go. Even if I knew how much it would kill me to say the words ‘I do’ to someone that wasn’t me, I would go. I felt my heart clench at the very thought of watching the one guy I ever liked marry someone else, even if he didn’t want to.
After some time, curled up and clenching the paper, I got to my feet and set it down. I made my way into the bathroom to take a shower. As the water fell over me, I slid down the wall and stared across from me at the tile. How had I messed up so badly?
It was nearing June 27th and I had my tuxedo ready, as well as the gift I’d bring. I had RSVPed as well. So they knew I was coming. They asked if I wanted a plus one. And my question, in my head was, ‘Who would I even bring?’ but I simply said no.
Over the past few months, I’d been plotting ideas of how to get Carmen to not want to marry Ryan. I could make her think he has AIDS, but then that wouldn’t be good publicity. I didn’t know what to do. Oh! I could say I was pregnant with his kid! Yeah, that would work perfectly! …If I had a vagina. I was so screwed. I was killing myself by going to this wedding.
And yet, here I was, standing in my full length mirror, looking at the bowtie to make sure it was perfect. It was June 27th. The day I might kill myself. Actually, no, I was about 95% sure that, if I wasn’t with Ryan by the time the day was over, I would kill myself. I didn’t want to be in a world where the guy I actually liked was married to someone else.
And with that cheery thought, I left. I got into my car and I drove to the chapel they’d be getting married in. It wasn’t too big. It was actually rather small, which surprised me. I walked in and sat down near the back. The wedding was bound to start soon. I just listened to everyone chatting amongst themselves about how good this wedding was and how excited they were that Ryan was finally settling down.
No, fuck you! He should be settling down with me! Not that skank. I was going to be bitter this entire day, wasn’t I? And yet I came. I still didn’t know why. And then I saw Ryan come out. And he looked amazing. He looked gorgeous in his tuxedo. He was turned out toward the entrance, where the bitch would be coming in. And I just wanted to stand up and walk down the aisle in her place. I wanted to say I do. I wanted to kiss him and be his husband.
Whoa, that was moving a bit fast, head. Yeah, really way too fast. And then the wedding march started and I was so tempted to move from my seat and walk up there instead. But I didn’t. I was frozen. I watched as each person moved forward down the white fabric. And then the evil spawn of Satan started walking down it, dressed in white. She should be dressed in red or black. Because she’s evil. She’s stealing my Ryan from me!
And then she was standing across from him and she took his hand with a smile. He smiled back at her and it almost seemed like he wanted this. Or maybe he’d gotten really good at pretending. I drowned out most of what the reverend was saying because I didn’t want to hear all that bullshit about being together forever, and the symbolism behind a wedding. And then I heard him say “Is there anyone in the audience who believes these two should not be wed?”
And when I looked up, Ryan was staring straight at me. That hurt.
---
A/N: So this is a day early, but I work tomorrow, so I wouldn't have the chance to put it up then, so here you go. Remember, this is the NON MPREG version! It has nothing to do with the chapter about them meeting up again and the whole Adam thing. Please rate and review! I'm really proud of this chapter. I really enjoyed writing it. :)
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