Categories > Celebrities > Panic! At The Disco > Stolen
, When Jon first proposed the idea of the band living together, I think I laughed in his face.
I couldn't imagine it. Somehow as a band we work together like a well oiled machine; but living together? I couldn't imagine a world where living together wouldn't create havoc. I liked my apartment - I could control where every piece of furniture was placed, bathroom schedules - no one would walk in on me in the shower and no one would hear me when I was writing songs.
The reason Jon proposed this was because of me, unfortunately.
I had a lot of bills to pay. And when I say a lot of bills, I mean, /a lot/, of bills. Yet for some reason in my odd brain of mine, I decided that a piano would be a much better purchase. So; I bought a piano. And not a honky tonk one either - a beautiful, astounding, sleek ebony grand. And it was possibly the most beautiful thing I had ever owned.
I wouldn't mind looking like that piano - I would be more beautiful than I am now. (Though I am pretty attractive.)
Once Jon discovered that, yes, I couldn't pay our bills, he proposed this idea. And in my head - well - what if I did it again? What if Spence and Brendon got angry at me because I spent my portion of the bills on musical instruments and extravagent pieces of furniture? Maybe they'd just kick me out - I could busk on the street and scrounge off other people.
But I don't like the street and in order to scrounge I'd have to meet new people.
I like the people I've got, thank you very much - I'm not inclined to meet new ones.
So I nodded and Jon hugged me.
When we arrived I was a little dismayed to say the least. The house was small - creaky wooden floors, two bedrooms - a tiny kitchen with a grotty cooker than looked like it had been used for making illegal drugs, and a 'living room' that actually consisted of a moth eaten sofa, an armchair with three legs, and a black and white TV with a cracked screen.
"This," Brendon started, wandering in, dropping his bags abruptly. "Is a shit hole."
I laughed and gazed around me. Brendon was - unfortunately, extremely correct. Whatever Jon had in store when he explained the apartment to be was now nullified. Where are the lakesof liquid gold and the sparkling diamond walls? He may have been exagerrating. It's hard to tell, with Jon.
Spence was just - stood, jaw a little dropped, lips a little parted - just stood. Brendon was still mouthing off about the apartment as he ambled into the bedrooms. He picked his favourite and declared that it was his, and I was still laughing at him, because he was still hilarious.
Jon snuck into the other room and gazed around. "I'm taking this one!" He called.
Now there was a choice. I knew we would have to bunk with one another, it just- freaks me out a little - like, sharing a room with someone? I was iffy about sharing a house with someone. Jon was always a good housemate because he kept himself to himself; he'd sit and he'd play bass in his room, or he'd be laughing in the background at the television, and when he knew I was writing songs, he'd go back into his room and listen to music on his ipod. He was always very considerate.
However, Brendon is not quite like that.
Not that I'm saying he's not considerate, because, really, he is. He's a complete sweetheart - not - that I'd ever tell him that. But, he isn't always completely aware of how he's acting, because, well, he can't help it, can he?
Which on some occasions, I love him for. Like my eighteenth birthday party - I hardly knew him; he'd actually just started becoming my friend after he auditioned pretending to be Golum (which was - fantastic, actually) and he just made my birthday party a blast. Not so many people turned up, but then again, I didn't actually invite many people, which may have been the reason why. But we all danced and he - set quite a few things alight, and we sung and played guitars around a fire..
It was a great night, to say the least.
I watched as Spencer laughed at a joke I had missed amist my own thoughts and wandered into Jon's room, dragging his bags behind him. And then my heart dropped into my stomach because this meant I was sleeping in Brendon's room. Or - our room.
"R-yan!" Brendon's sweet singing voice rung from his - our - room. "You're sleeping with me!" I sighed inwardly and dragged my bags towards the room, putting them down in the corner. I stared at the room; one cracked window that let in all the cold air, a creaky wooden floor with one small scratchy rug on, an old cupboard, a shelf full of old books, and one double bed. I blinked at Brendon.
"Um." I said, under my breath. Brendon laughed again.
"Sorry Ry. I promise not to spoon you." He chuckled, putting his clothes away in the cupboard. I was still just stood, awkwardly, my mouth opening and closing. He kept on tidying before turning and staring at me. "You okay?" He asked, arching an eyebrow at me.
I blinked and snapped out of it. "Yes. Yeah, I'm good. Good." I mumbled, scratching the back of my neck. "Where should I uh, dump my stuff?" Brendon looked up to the wardrobe and opened the other half. "You can have this side. You have more clothes than me anyway - you dress like a girl." He hummed, the corner of his mouth twitching with a smirk.
I narrowed my gaze, playfully, even if his words has hurt me a little bit. It was childish, I know - but I was childish.
"Hey, I just dress with style." I replied, with a tiny, forced smirk. "Some people don't get that, /obviously/." Brendon rolled his eyes with a little sincere smile and batted a hand.
"Whatever. I'm done here, so you can store your panties and whatnot," He said, stretching. "I am going to go on a scavenger hunt for food." I scowled softly and dropped my gaze to the floor, even though I knew he was joking. I just got hurt easy.
People always tell me I over-react, and - well - okay, maybe I do. But I can't help it.
If someone makes a tiny jab at me I can't help but think it over in my head why and what made this person say this. I'm not insecure, particularly. Not like I used to be, anyway. I mean, since this bad started I've been on the top of the /world/. Still living like a pennyless hobo, but still happier than I've ever been.
Hopefully living with Brendon won't make me want to stab him.
Being exposed to Brendon so far, has just made me love him. I mean, in a friendship way, I don't like, have a crush on him or anything. Sometimes I think maybe.. No, I don't. I mean, he'd never do that anyway. He wouldn't.
I was actually dreading each tick of the clock hand. We were sat around the small, flickery black and white television - Brendon was yammering to someone on the phone, but no one bothered asking who. Probably a girl, some, lucky girl. And then the time came when we would have to sleep. Brendon retired before I did and I attempted to stay by the destroyed television for as long as possible, but soon the flickering was getting behind my eyes and imprinting on my brain and I felt I had to get away.
Unfortunately my only escape was my bedroom, which Brendon was currently sleeping in. I crept over to the door, pushing it open very slowly in case he was indecent, and peeped my head around the corner. He couldn't have been taking up more space on the bed if he tried. He was literally sprawled, in his ridiculous matching sleepy sheep pyjamas, across the entire bed, leaving a tiny space between his right leg and right arm for me to squidge into. I rolled my eyes and got changed quickly behind the cupboard door in case he were to wake up, and curled into the tight space, pushing Brendon aside a little.
Brendon literally let out a bellow of a laugh in his sleep and kicked me in the leg. I don't think he meant to, or at least I hope not, but it bloody well hurt. I slapped him very gently in the cheek.
"Wake up, you dozy idiot." I poked him in the side until he woke up.
"Hey! What's going on? Wha-?" Brendon mumbled. He saw me beside him and then looked across the space his body was sprawled. Despite me being slightly taller than him, I took up much less space.
"Ryan, stop taking up so much space!" Brendon laughed, putting his hands against my side and pushing me softly he away. He was stronger than I think he remembered and it even felt like I was being shoved, but I let him off, because I always do.
"I am taking up like, one single square meter of space, you space whore," I replied, grinning at him. “And you also just kicked me in your sleep, thanks for that.”
Brendon pretended to pout and he cooed. His hands which were currently on my waist and chest circled.
“Awh, I’m sorry, need me to rub it better?” He chimed, rubbing his fingers.
I scowled playfully. “I think I’m okay, as long as you don’t try to drop kick me again.” I replied, glancing down at his fingers which were still on my body. He let out another bellow of a laugh and removed his hands from my waist and side, returning them to his own chest as he wriggled onto one side of the bed.
"Sorry. I'm not good at sharing." Brendon replied, staring up at the ceiling through the darkness. I poked him softly in the cheek before snapping my hand back to my side of the bed. There was a lot of space between us now, which, I preferred.
"Well, neither am I," I laughed, gently. "But we're going to have to learn to be, 'cause I guess we can't really afford beds of our own yet.."
Brendon chuckled. I could see the glint off his white teeth and his eyes slightly in the dark.
"We'll get on. It'll be like a really long sleepover!" Brendon turned over on his side, resting his chin in his hand. "We could have pillow fights in our underwear, exchange secrets about boys, play truth or dare, and gossip about Jon and Spencer." His eyes were wide and filled with childish laughter.
I arched an eyebrow. "One, I'm not getting in my underwear. Two, you're not one for talking about boys, are you? Three, truth or dare is stupid, and four, Jon and Spencer have done nothing wrong," I finished, proudly.
Brendon looked at me quizzically, licking across his bottom lip as he thought. "But, why is truth or dare stupid?" He asked, ignoring my question about his sexuality, entirely.
"It's basically, tell us who you want to fuck, or do something creepy/stupid/sexual." I rested my clasped hands on my chest. "It's ridiculous." I could see Brendon's features choking up with silent laughter across the bed. "Now go to sleep." I smiled, turning so I had my back to him, and letting my eyes close.
He didn't sleep for ages, and neither did I.
Why he insisted on poking me up and down my spine for the next hour, was beyond me.
Hope you liked this bit, I have it all written out, R&R c:
I couldn't imagine it. Somehow as a band we work together like a well oiled machine; but living together? I couldn't imagine a world where living together wouldn't create havoc. I liked my apartment - I could control where every piece of furniture was placed, bathroom schedules - no one would walk in on me in the shower and no one would hear me when I was writing songs.
The reason Jon proposed this was because of me, unfortunately.
I had a lot of bills to pay. And when I say a lot of bills, I mean, /a lot/, of bills. Yet for some reason in my odd brain of mine, I decided that a piano would be a much better purchase. So; I bought a piano. And not a honky tonk one either - a beautiful, astounding, sleek ebony grand. And it was possibly the most beautiful thing I had ever owned.
I wouldn't mind looking like that piano - I would be more beautiful than I am now. (Though I am pretty attractive.)
Once Jon discovered that, yes, I couldn't pay our bills, he proposed this idea. And in my head - well - what if I did it again? What if Spence and Brendon got angry at me because I spent my portion of the bills on musical instruments and extravagent pieces of furniture? Maybe they'd just kick me out - I could busk on the street and scrounge off other people.
But I don't like the street and in order to scrounge I'd have to meet new people.
I like the people I've got, thank you very much - I'm not inclined to meet new ones.
So I nodded and Jon hugged me.
When we arrived I was a little dismayed to say the least. The house was small - creaky wooden floors, two bedrooms - a tiny kitchen with a grotty cooker than looked like it had been used for making illegal drugs, and a 'living room' that actually consisted of a moth eaten sofa, an armchair with three legs, and a black and white TV with a cracked screen.
"This," Brendon started, wandering in, dropping his bags abruptly. "Is a shit hole."
I laughed and gazed around me. Brendon was - unfortunately, extremely correct. Whatever Jon had in store when he explained the apartment to be was now nullified. Where are the lakesof liquid gold and the sparkling diamond walls? He may have been exagerrating. It's hard to tell, with Jon.
Spence was just - stood, jaw a little dropped, lips a little parted - just stood. Brendon was still mouthing off about the apartment as he ambled into the bedrooms. He picked his favourite and declared that it was his, and I was still laughing at him, because he was still hilarious.
Jon snuck into the other room and gazed around. "I'm taking this one!" He called.
Now there was a choice. I knew we would have to bunk with one another, it just- freaks me out a little - like, sharing a room with someone? I was iffy about sharing a house with someone. Jon was always a good housemate because he kept himself to himself; he'd sit and he'd play bass in his room, or he'd be laughing in the background at the television, and when he knew I was writing songs, he'd go back into his room and listen to music on his ipod. He was always very considerate.
However, Brendon is not quite like that.
Not that I'm saying he's not considerate, because, really, he is. He's a complete sweetheart - not - that I'd ever tell him that. But, he isn't always completely aware of how he's acting, because, well, he can't help it, can he?
Which on some occasions, I love him for. Like my eighteenth birthday party - I hardly knew him; he'd actually just started becoming my friend after he auditioned pretending to be Golum (which was - fantastic, actually) and he just made my birthday party a blast. Not so many people turned up, but then again, I didn't actually invite many people, which may have been the reason why. But we all danced and he - set quite a few things alight, and we sung and played guitars around a fire..
It was a great night, to say the least.
I watched as Spencer laughed at a joke I had missed amist my own thoughts and wandered into Jon's room, dragging his bags behind him. And then my heart dropped into my stomach because this meant I was sleeping in Brendon's room. Or - our room.
"R-yan!" Brendon's sweet singing voice rung from his - our - room. "You're sleeping with me!" I sighed inwardly and dragged my bags towards the room, putting them down in the corner. I stared at the room; one cracked window that let in all the cold air, a creaky wooden floor with one small scratchy rug on, an old cupboard, a shelf full of old books, and one double bed. I blinked at Brendon.
"Um." I said, under my breath. Brendon laughed again.
"Sorry Ry. I promise not to spoon you." He chuckled, putting his clothes away in the cupboard. I was still just stood, awkwardly, my mouth opening and closing. He kept on tidying before turning and staring at me. "You okay?" He asked, arching an eyebrow at me.
I blinked and snapped out of it. "Yes. Yeah, I'm good. Good." I mumbled, scratching the back of my neck. "Where should I uh, dump my stuff?" Brendon looked up to the wardrobe and opened the other half. "You can have this side. You have more clothes than me anyway - you dress like a girl." He hummed, the corner of his mouth twitching with a smirk.
I narrowed my gaze, playfully, even if his words has hurt me a little bit. It was childish, I know - but I was childish.
"Hey, I just dress with style." I replied, with a tiny, forced smirk. "Some people don't get that, /obviously/." Brendon rolled his eyes with a little sincere smile and batted a hand.
"Whatever. I'm done here, so you can store your panties and whatnot," He said, stretching. "I am going to go on a scavenger hunt for food." I scowled softly and dropped my gaze to the floor, even though I knew he was joking. I just got hurt easy.
People always tell me I over-react, and - well - okay, maybe I do. But I can't help it.
If someone makes a tiny jab at me I can't help but think it over in my head why and what made this person say this. I'm not insecure, particularly. Not like I used to be, anyway. I mean, since this bad started I've been on the top of the /world/. Still living like a pennyless hobo, but still happier than I've ever been.
Hopefully living with Brendon won't make me want to stab him.
Being exposed to Brendon so far, has just made me love him. I mean, in a friendship way, I don't like, have a crush on him or anything. Sometimes I think maybe.. No, I don't. I mean, he'd never do that anyway. He wouldn't.
I was actually dreading each tick of the clock hand. We were sat around the small, flickery black and white television - Brendon was yammering to someone on the phone, but no one bothered asking who. Probably a girl, some, lucky girl. And then the time came when we would have to sleep. Brendon retired before I did and I attempted to stay by the destroyed television for as long as possible, but soon the flickering was getting behind my eyes and imprinting on my brain and I felt I had to get away.
Unfortunately my only escape was my bedroom, which Brendon was currently sleeping in. I crept over to the door, pushing it open very slowly in case he was indecent, and peeped my head around the corner. He couldn't have been taking up more space on the bed if he tried. He was literally sprawled, in his ridiculous matching sleepy sheep pyjamas, across the entire bed, leaving a tiny space between his right leg and right arm for me to squidge into. I rolled my eyes and got changed quickly behind the cupboard door in case he were to wake up, and curled into the tight space, pushing Brendon aside a little.
Brendon literally let out a bellow of a laugh in his sleep and kicked me in the leg. I don't think he meant to, or at least I hope not, but it bloody well hurt. I slapped him very gently in the cheek.
"Wake up, you dozy idiot." I poked him in the side until he woke up.
"Hey! What's going on? Wha-?" Brendon mumbled. He saw me beside him and then looked across the space his body was sprawled. Despite me being slightly taller than him, I took up much less space.
"Ryan, stop taking up so much space!" Brendon laughed, putting his hands against my side and pushing me softly he away. He was stronger than I think he remembered and it even felt like I was being shoved, but I let him off, because I always do.
"I am taking up like, one single square meter of space, you space whore," I replied, grinning at him. “And you also just kicked me in your sleep, thanks for that.”
Brendon pretended to pout and he cooed. His hands which were currently on my waist and chest circled.
“Awh, I’m sorry, need me to rub it better?” He chimed, rubbing his fingers.
I scowled playfully. “I think I’m okay, as long as you don’t try to drop kick me again.” I replied, glancing down at his fingers which were still on my body. He let out another bellow of a laugh and removed his hands from my waist and side, returning them to his own chest as he wriggled onto one side of the bed.
"Sorry. I'm not good at sharing." Brendon replied, staring up at the ceiling through the darkness. I poked him softly in the cheek before snapping my hand back to my side of the bed. There was a lot of space between us now, which, I preferred.
"Well, neither am I," I laughed, gently. "But we're going to have to learn to be, 'cause I guess we can't really afford beds of our own yet.."
Brendon chuckled. I could see the glint off his white teeth and his eyes slightly in the dark.
"We'll get on. It'll be like a really long sleepover!" Brendon turned over on his side, resting his chin in his hand. "We could have pillow fights in our underwear, exchange secrets about boys, play truth or dare, and gossip about Jon and Spencer." His eyes were wide and filled with childish laughter.
I arched an eyebrow. "One, I'm not getting in my underwear. Two, you're not one for talking about boys, are you? Three, truth or dare is stupid, and four, Jon and Spencer have done nothing wrong," I finished, proudly.
Brendon looked at me quizzically, licking across his bottom lip as he thought. "But, why is truth or dare stupid?" He asked, ignoring my question about his sexuality, entirely.
"It's basically, tell us who you want to fuck, or do something creepy/stupid/sexual." I rested my clasped hands on my chest. "It's ridiculous." I could see Brendon's features choking up with silent laughter across the bed. "Now go to sleep." I smiled, turning so I had my back to him, and letting my eyes close.
He didn't sleep for ages, and neither did I.
Why he insisted on poking me up and down my spine for the next hour, was beyond me.
Hope you liked this bit, I have it all written out, R&R c:
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