Categories > Celebrities > Panic! At The Disco > Twister
After a tornado kills his father, Ryan is taken in by Sheriff Urie. Now it's up to the sheriff's son to help him recover.
Okay, first, I would like to apologize for not updating as much as I hoped I would. Second, I really couldn't stop thinking about this idea so here's the first chapter of "Twister". :)
xoxo, Liz
“I don’t want to talk about it.”
Brendon glanced over at the huddled figure in the corner of his dark and dingy basement. A small glow flickered to life behind the figure before snapping back into nonexistence. To others it would seem like a mysterious and intriguing sight, but to Brendon, there was a simple explanation. It wasn’t just any huddled figure, it was Ryan, his strange classmate who lived down the road, playing with a lighter. Brendon didn’t understand what was so captivating about a stupid old lighter or what made Ryan flick it on and off for an hour straight. He also didn’t understand why Ryan refused to talk about the twister that killed his father. Sure, it’s difficult to talk about deceased loved-ones, but after awhile the silence can get to someone. It swallows them up in a dark cloak of depression and sinks them down into the ground. Brendon would know.
“But why not? Talking helps.” Flick off.
“No it doesn’t.” Flick on.
“Of course it does. It helps-”
“NO IT DOESN’T!” Ryan shouted and dropped the lighter abruptly. He lowered his head into his hands and then continued in a softer tone, “It doesn’t fucking help.”
Brendon stared at the back of Ryan’s head curiously. He didn’t know Ryan very well, but he didn’t seem like the shouting type.
“I-I’m sorry. I just thought... Never mind.”
Ryan lifted his head gradually, not turning his head, but genuinely interested now.
“No, I’m sorry. ‘You just thought’ what?”
“I just thought that talking about it might help you,” Brendon swallowed, “just like it helped me.”
“What do you mean?” Ryan pocketed his lighter and stood up slowly. He then surprised Brendon by turning around and staring him directly in the eye. His gaze was soft yet firm, encouraging an answer from the other boy. But there was something else in his eyes that Brendon couldn’t seem to put his finger on. A twinkle of sorts, and not a good one at that.
“I-I...” His eyes flicked to the floor then back up in defeat as color rushed to his cheeks.“I don’t want to talk about it.”
As soon as he said it, Brendon realized what trouble those words would bring him.
“Of course you don’t. Why the hell would you want to talk about it? I mean, it’s not like talking will actually helpyou or anything, right?” Ryan voice was dripping with venom as paced back and forth in front of Brendon, who was too stunned by this outburst to speak. He couldn’t comprehend the other boy’s strange behavior, but he understood that twinkle he saw before. It was a lack of sanity; a spark of delirium and instability. “But I’m no expert, perhaps you would care to enlighten me on how talking helps relieve pain, hmm? After all, I’m just a sick-in-the-head orphan who needs the help of a genius like you.”
“I NEVER WANTED TO HELP YOU ANYWAY!” Brendon watched Ryan’s monstrous demeanor fade away, but he wasn’t done yet. He wanted Ryan to truly understand how he felt. “My dad took pity on you after your dad died, but he was too busy to actually do anything for you so he made me come down here and figure out how to get you back to a normal state of living. I don’t know why the hell he thought I could do it seeing how pigheaded you are.”
“Why don’t you just leave then?” Ryan sank to the floor and pulled out his lighter and continued where he left off.
“Well, I... you see...” Brendon thought for a moment before realizing that in truth he didn’t really know why he hadn’t left already. “I... I don’t know,” he confessed.
“Oh.”
“Oh,” Brendon echoed quietly as a small, little sheepish grin tugged at his mouth. He then sat down on the floor across from Ryan and watched the flame appear and disappear. “What’s so interesting about your lighter anyway?”
“That’s my little secret,” Ryan returned in a surprisingly calm voice, “maybe I’ll tell you someday.”
The two boys remained there for at least an hour; Ryan watched his flame while Brendon dozed off. Ryan would glance over thoughtfully at Brendon from time to time as puzzling thoughts and emotions clouded his mind. Brendon, on the other hand, was dreaming about Ryan, but that information would never be disclosed to him.
Okay, first, I would like to apologize for not updating as much as I hoped I would. Second, I really couldn't stop thinking about this idea so here's the first chapter of "Twister". :)
xoxo, Liz
“I don’t want to talk about it.”
Brendon glanced over at the huddled figure in the corner of his dark and dingy basement. A small glow flickered to life behind the figure before snapping back into nonexistence. To others it would seem like a mysterious and intriguing sight, but to Brendon, there was a simple explanation. It wasn’t just any huddled figure, it was Ryan, his strange classmate who lived down the road, playing with a lighter. Brendon didn’t understand what was so captivating about a stupid old lighter or what made Ryan flick it on and off for an hour straight. He also didn’t understand why Ryan refused to talk about the twister that killed his father. Sure, it’s difficult to talk about deceased loved-ones, but after awhile the silence can get to someone. It swallows them up in a dark cloak of depression and sinks them down into the ground. Brendon would know.
“But why not? Talking helps.” Flick off.
“No it doesn’t.” Flick on.
“Of course it does. It helps-”
“NO IT DOESN’T!” Ryan shouted and dropped the lighter abruptly. He lowered his head into his hands and then continued in a softer tone, “It doesn’t fucking help.”
Brendon stared at the back of Ryan’s head curiously. He didn’t know Ryan very well, but he didn’t seem like the shouting type.
“I-I’m sorry. I just thought... Never mind.”
Ryan lifted his head gradually, not turning his head, but genuinely interested now.
“No, I’m sorry. ‘You just thought’ what?”
“I just thought that talking about it might help you,” Brendon swallowed, “just like it helped me.”
“What do you mean?” Ryan pocketed his lighter and stood up slowly. He then surprised Brendon by turning around and staring him directly in the eye. His gaze was soft yet firm, encouraging an answer from the other boy. But there was something else in his eyes that Brendon couldn’t seem to put his finger on. A twinkle of sorts, and not a good one at that.
“I-I...” His eyes flicked to the floor then back up in defeat as color rushed to his cheeks.“I don’t want to talk about it.”
As soon as he said it, Brendon realized what trouble those words would bring him.
“Of course you don’t. Why the hell would you want to talk about it? I mean, it’s not like talking will actually helpyou or anything, right?” Ryan voice was dripping with venom as paced back and forth in front of Brendon, who was too stunned by this outburst to speak. He couldn’t comprehend the other boy’s strange behavior, but he understood that twinkle he saw before. It was a lack of sanity; a spark of delirium and instability. “But I’m no expert, perhaps you would care to enlighten me on how talking helps relieve pain, hmm? After all, I’m just a sick-in-the-head orphan who needs the help of a genius like you.”
“I NEVER WANTED TO HELP YOU ANYWAY!” Brendon watched Ryan’s monstrous demeanor fade away, but he wasn’t done yet. He wanted Ryan to truly understand how he felt. “My dad took pity on you after your dad died, but he was too busy to actually do anything for you so he made me come down here and figure out how to get you back to a normal state of living. I don’t know why the hell he thought I could do it seeing how pigheaded you are.”
“Why don’t you just leave then?” Ryan sank to the floor and pulled out his lighter and continued where he left off.
“Well, I... you see...” Brendon thought for a moment before realizing that in truth he didn’t really know why he hadn’t left already. “I... I don’t know,” he confessed.
“Oh.”
“Oh,” Brendon echoed quietly as a small, little sheepish grin tugged at his mouth. He then sat down on the floor across from Ryan and watched the flame appear and disappear. “What’s so interesting about your lighter anyway?”
“That’s my little secret,” Ryan returned in a surprisingly calm voice, “maybe I’ll tell you someday.”
The two boys remained there for at least an hour; Ryan watched his flame while Brendon dozed off. Ryan would glance over thoughtfully at Brendon from time to time as puzzling thoughts and emotions clouded his mind. Brendon, on the other hand, was dreaming about Ryan, but that information would never be disclosed to him.
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