Categories > Celebrities > Panic! At The Disco > Stolen
Ever since the whole shirt incident, Brendon hadn’t actually spoken to me. Not properly, anyhow. We’d exchanged greetings occasionally, he’d ask me how my ‘family troubles’ were going – which was ridiculous, anyhow, and he’d ramble about how much he loved Dallon – but we never really spoke.
We were all going out for dinner.
I was desperate to bring someone of my own – but I had no one. I literally had no one. I hadn’t met a single other person since we’d moved into our flat a year ago – I never left. I was in a state of hurt. I didn’t even care about Brendon anymore, or at least I didn’t think so, until I saw him.
And then I saw him and I wanted to cry.
We were eating at a particularly nice restaurant; I dressed nicely, black pinstripe jeans, a crimson shirt and a black waist coat. I didn’t bother with my hair and left it curly. Jon and Spencer both looked equally as charming and as I watched them talking to one another I couldn’t help but wonder if Jon was in the early stages of infuatation.
I guess I could spot it a mile off.
I sat again on my own. Brendon sat with Dallon opposite me, Brendon gazing deeply at Dallon and Dallon watching him back, sickeningly. I hated It, eyeing my Brendon up like that.
“So, Ryan,” Dallon had the voice of a snake. Couldn’t trust it. “How’s the music career?”
“Okay.” I replied, quietly.
“Sold any records?”
“No.”
Dallon laughed and put an arm around Brendon. It didn’t really hurt when Dallon laughed but it hurt when Brendon joined in. Brendon didn’t even know what he was laughing about.
“Wow, I’m not surprised.” Dallon sneered, leaving me to be embarrassed again. “How are you not living on the streets? Or living in your mother’s basement?”
I shivered. “I get by,” I whispered. “I do songs with other artists..”
“Other artists actually want you?” Dallon laughed again and took a swig of his drink. “You seem like a pretty shoddy musician if you’re not selling records.” I frowned and blinked tears from my eyes, gazing at my lap.
“I.. I..” I mumbled, unsure of what to say. “People.. Artists want me..” I was helpless.
“No they don’t!” Dallon laughed, swigging his drink a little too much. “Otherwise you wouldn’t be such a loser! A loser who’s hopelessly in love with someone he can’t be with.” He teased, angrily. The rest of the table had turned to a hush to listen to Dallon. “Stop talking about your shitty music, and playing your stupid pansy songs, which we all heard you singing. I mean, what does ‘melt your headaches’ mean? ‘Call it home’? Is that ‘cause you don’t have a home? Because everyone leaves you? And no one loves you? Is that is, ‘cause like, what the fuck..”
Everyone stared horrified in Dallon’s direction and I just put a hand over my mouth, pretending I didn’t exist, trying to stop the tears from flowing. I wanted to vomit. I wanted to explode, I wanted to gnaw off my arm so I had something to beat Dallon to death with. Brendon was staring, but not in a shocked way, just a hurt way. He glanced across to Dallon, and then back to me, frowning.
I was ashamed. I’ve never been more ashamed in my entire life – never ever.
Now everyone knows. They know how much of a loser I am, how everything in my life is falling to pieces, how my heart is being ripped and trodden on daily, and how I just have to sew it back up, pop it back in, and hope to god that it works alright.
But it hasn’t worked right since the moment I met Brendon Urie, has it? Because that was when he stole it.
And when all the eyes fell on me, was when I breathed in sharply and suddenly burst into tears.
There were streams of tears running down my cheeks, my shirt was wet, and my hand was pushed over my mouth in an attempt to stop any noises from falling out. Everyone watched me with dropped jaws and I just kept crying.
A few more seconds passed before I stood up, with scarlet cheeks, running off towards the bathroom but not fully making it there, being sick in the middle of the restaurant.
I knelt there, ashamed on the deep, plush carpet.
I was mortified. All eyes were glued to me and I was frightened, and I hated everything for getting me into such a mess. I was never like this. Never ever.
But now all eyes were on me but no one dared move. I was sick again and I held my stomach, still crying, wishing the ground would just swallow me up.
This isn’t how crushes work. I’m supposed to suffer in silence. But how can I when his boyfriend insists on making my life hell? When he takes my most beautiful work and mocks it – when makes me a fool?
I knelt there for what felt like ages. When I finally glanced upwards, my entire table was empty. Four comforting hands touched my shoulders and I turned, slowly, Jon and Spencer stood behind me, hands pulling me up. I collapsed against them, cold, ashamed, and downright humiliated.
They walked me along towards the car, strapping me carefully in the back. Dallon and Brendon were sat beside me, Brendon looking particularly pissed as he crossed his arms, staring ahead. Dallon on the other hand seemed quite smug. It was a horrid turn of events. I hate it when things are about me.
Once I arrived home I heard arguing eminating from the living room, and I couldn’t make it out, but I knew that I was involved. It really just stressed me out.
“I can’t believe you’d even dare speak to him like that!” Brendon’s voice was high and upset. “Do you not think before you speak? Are you that stupid?”
“Sweets, I didn’t mean it, I mean, I was drunk back there, I’m still sorta drunk now. Honest, I didn’t really mean those things.”
“He’s really hurt! You made him cry! You made him sick!”
“Brendon, I’m sorry okay? I wasn’t thinking. I’ll apologize to the little guy tomorrow, okay?”
And then I heard gentle kissing and murmurs of apologies and it was clear that Dallon was going to be staying, no matter how much he hated me.
What have I ever done?
Actually, I have kissed his boyfriend a fair few times.. But he has been drunk everytime so technically it hasn’t been my fault.
But Brendon’s lips are so kissable and despite how much he’s hurt me, he hasn’t done anything on purpose (although he still hasn’t explained the whole shirt incident to me), and I have no reason to be mad at him.
Other than that I want him, and I can’t have him.
But I want him so bad…
The next morning when I awoke, buried in Brendon’s sheets and clothes, the door opened, and I tucked up the sheets high so none of my secrets were revealed.
“Ryan? Can we talk?” Brendon appeared, with a soft expression. At first I smiled but as he moved into the room, Dallon followed, and my smile quickly deteriorated into a scowl.
“Dallon has some words to say.” Brendon said, softly, urging Dallon forward with a hand placed on the lower of his back. Needless to say, I was a little jealous.
“Hey, so, um, I’m sorry about yesterday. I uh, I was drunk, I didn’t mean it.”
Lies. Lies and lies.
I nodded gently, only to make Brendon happy. “That’s okay, I was just feeling ill yesterday..”
More lies.
The way we spoke was more of a dance; we were fighting one another like a cold war, and Brendon was the peace.
“Well, uh, sorry if I made you sick or something.” Dallon turned to Brendon for approval, and although Brendon really didn’t look that pleased, but he knew he’d never get some poetic apology from him if he wanted it and this was all Dallon was capable of.
I write songs, I could do long poetic apologies..
Brendon kissed Dallon’s cheek as he left and Brendon sat down on the edge of the bed. Under the sheets I used my feet to kick Brendon’s clothes further down in case he came any closer.
“I’m really sorry, Ry. Dallon didn’t mean any of that, and – you know I love your lyrics.” Brendon said, gently, reaching out to squeeze my shoulder. I sunk into his touch almost ashamedly.
“I know..” I replied, softly.
“But seriously, don’t think bad of him, he comes out with these things sometimes. He does it to me too, but he can’t help it. Really, he’s a good guy.”
“Uhuh..” I mumbled, irritably. I didn’t need to hear about Brendon’s stupid boyfriend and how perfect he was.
“Come on, give him another chance. Maybe we could go for drinks some time?”
I think the moment that I punched Dallon Weekes was one of the highlights of my life.
He had been out of line for weeks. Even after the vomit incident at the restaurant he insisted on being a dick towards me and frankly, I didn’t care if Brendon hated me for it, because Brendon was never going to love me back, was he?
We were having drinks in a bar. Naturally I was pretending to scope for attractive people when in actual fact, I was watching Dallon and Brendon from the corner of my eye. Dallon was nibbling on the soft skin below Brendon’s earlobe – which I am yet to discover with my own lips.
I was sweating and I was angry. That night for some reason, whenever anybody touched Brendon I wanted to hurt them. A brush of fingers on his thigh, a kiss on the cheek – I wanted to brutally hurt them. But there were bigger reasons than that.
Such as Brendon hopping up to go the bathrooms and me watching as Dallon swanned into the crowd, hitting on some innocent boy who looked at least eighteen. Which was when I saw red.
I am not an aggressive person. I am as passive as a person can get; I don’t like violence, I will sit and I will take the violence, rather than be involved. But I couldn’t handle it any longer. His lips were centimetres from this boys ear and I leapt up from my seat, throwing a hard punch around his jaw before anyone could stop me.
The audible crack rung in my ears and radiated me with relief.
But then there was the retaliation.
He grabbed my hair and yanked me down, throwing a much harder fist in my eye.
And it stung like holy hell. I tried to fight back, only managing to throw another punch or two. But he was better than me and he punched me in the other eye, forcing me to let out a loud yelp.
I was weak and didn’t survive much longer than that – I just fell back to the floor, with flickering eyes, my eye socket feeling incredibly painful from the punch.
Brendon returned a few minutes later and stared down at me, kneeling beside me and brushing a hand over my hair.
“Are you okay? What happened?” Brendon asked, worriedly, his thumb pressing into my cheekbone. I stammered.
“Uh- uh, got in a fight..” I mumbled, in response. Brendon tilted his head and frowned.
“You need to stop getting into trouble.” He sighed, gently.
The jealously on Dallon’s face was evident as Dallon tapped Brendon’s shoulder, showing him the smaller bruise on his jaw that I had inflicted. Brendon cooed and cared for him, pressing little kisses to his cheeks, whilst I stood up with Spencer’s help, aching and holding my throbbing head.
Still one of the highlights of my life.
We were all going out for dinner.
I was desperate to bring someone of my own – but I had no one. I literally had no one. I hadn’t met a single other person since we’d moved into our flat a year ago – I never left. I was in a state of hurt. I didn’t even care about Brendon anymore, or at least I didn’t think so, until I saw him.
And then I saw him and I wanted to cry.
We were eating at a particularly nice restaurant; I dressed nicely, black pinstripe jeans, a crimson shirt and a black waist coat. I didn’t bother with my hair and left it curly. Jon and Spencer both looked equally as charming and as I watched them talking to one another I couldn’t help but wonder if Jon was in the early stages of infuatation.
I guess I could spot it a mile off.
I sat again on my own. Brendon sat with Dallon opposite me, Brendon gazing deeply at Dallon and Dallon watching him back, sickeningly. I hated It, eyeing my Brendon up like that.
“So, Ryan,” Dallon had the voice of a snake. Couldn’t trust it. “How’s the music career?”
“Okay.” I replied, quietly.
“Sold any records?”
“No.”
Dallon laughed and put an arm around Brendon. It didn’t really hurt when Dallon laughed but it hurt when Brendon joined in. Brendon didn’t even know what he was laughing about.
“Wow, I’m not surprised.” Dallon sneered, leaving me to be embarrassed again. “How are you not living on the streets? Or living in your mother’s basement?”
I shivered. “I get by,” I whispered. “I do songs with other artists..”
“Other artists actually want you?” Dallon laughed again and took a swig of his drink. “You seem like a pretty shoddy musician if you’re not selling records.” I frowned and blinked tears from my eyes, gazing at my lap.
“I.. I..” I mumbled, unsure of what to say. “People.. Artists want me..” I was helpless.
“No they don’t!” Dallon laughed, swigging his drink a little too much. “Otherwise you wouldn’t be such a loser! A loser who’s hopelessly in love with someone he can’t be with.” He teased, angrily. The rest of the table had turned to a hush to listen to Dallon. “Stop talking about your shitty music, and playing your stupid pansy songs, which we all heard you singing. I mean, what does ‘melt your headaches’ mean? ‘Call it home’? Is that ‘cause you don’t have a home? Because everyone leaves you? And no one loves you? Is that is, ‘cause like, what the fuck..”
Everyone stared horrified in Dallon’s direction and I just put a hand over my mouth, pretending I didn’t exist, trying to stop the tears from flowing. I wanted to vomit. I wanted to explode, I wanted to gnaw off my arm so I had something to beat Dallon to death with. Brendon was staring, but not in a shocked way, just a hurt way. He glanced across to Dallon, and then back to me, frowning.
I was ashamed. I’ve never been more ashamed in my entire life – never ever.
Now everyone knows. They know how much of a loser I am, how everything in my life is falling to pieces, how my heart is being ripped and trodden on daily, and how I just have to sew it back up, pop it back in, and hope to god that it works alright.
But it hasn’t worked right since the moment I met Brendon Urie, has it? Because that was when he stole it.
And when all the eyes fell on me, was when I breathed in sharply and suddenly burst into tears.
There were streams of tears running down my cheeks, my shirt was wet, and my hand was pushed over my mouth in an attempt to stop any noises from falling out. Everyone watched me with dropped jaws and I just kept crying.
A few more seconds passed before I stood up, with scarlet cheeks, running off towards the bathroom but not fully making it there, being sick in the middle of the restaurant.
I knelt there, ashamed on the deep, plush carpet.
I was mortified. All eyes were glued to me and I was frightened, and I hated everything for getting me into such a mess. I was never like this. Never ever.
But now all eyes were on me but no one dared move. I was sick again and I held my stomach, still crying, wishing the ground would just swallow me up.
This isn’t how crushes work. I’m supposed to suffer in silence. But how can I when his boyfriend insists on making my life hell? When he takes my most beautiful work and mocks it – when makes me a fool?
I knelt there for what felt like ages. When I finally glanced upwards, my entire table was empty. Four comforting hands touched my shoulders and I turned, slowly, Jon and Spencer stood behind me, hands pulling me up. I collapsed against them, cold, ashamed, and downright humiliated.
They walked me along towards the car, strapping me carefully in the back. Dallon and Brendon were sat beside me, Brendon looking particularly pissed as he crossed his arms, staring ahead. Dallon on the other hand seemed quite smug. It was a horrid turn of events. I hate it when things are about me.
Once I arrived home I heard arguing eminating from the living room, and I couldn’t make it out, but I knew that I was involved. It really just stressed me out.
“I can’t believe you’d even dare speak to him like that!” Brendon’s voice was high and upset. “Do you not think before you speak? Are you that stupid?”
“Sweets, I didn’t mean it, I mean, I was drunk back there, I’m still sorta drunk now. Honest, I didn’t really mean those things.”
“He’s really hurt! You made him cry! You made him sick!”
“Brendon, I’m sorry okay? I wasn’t thinking. I’ll apologize to the little guy tomorrow, okay?”
And then I heard gentle kissing and murmurs of apologies and it was clear that Dallon was going to be staying, no matter how much he hated me.
What have I ever done?
Actually, I have kissed his boyfriend a fair few times.. But he has been drunk everytime so technically it hasn’t been my fault.
But Brendon’s lips are so kissable and despite how much he’s hurt me, he hasn’t done anything on purpose (although he still hasn’t explained the whole shirt incident to me), and I have no reason to be mad at him.
Other than that I want him, and I can’t have him.
But I want him so bad…
The next morning when I awoke, buried in Brendon’s sheets and clothes, the door opened, and I tucked up the sheets high so none of my secrets were revealed.
“Ryan? Can we talk?” Brendon appeared, with a soft expression. At first I smiled but as he moved into the room, Dallon followed, and my smile quickly deteriorated into a scowl.
“Dallon has some words to say.” Brendon said, softly, urging Dallon forward with a hand placed on the lower of his back. Needless to say, I was a little jealous.
“Hey, so, um, I’m sorry about yesterday. I uh, I was drunk, I didn’t mean it.”
Lies. Lies and lies.
I nodded gently, only to make Brendon happy. “That’s okay, I was just feeling ill yesterday..”
More lies.
The way we spoke was more of a dance; we were fighting one another like a cold war, and Brendon was the peace.
“Well, uh, sorry if I made you sick or something.” Dallon turned to Brendon for approval, and although Brendon really didn’t look that pleased, but he knew he’d never get some poetic apology from him if he wanted it and this was all Dallon was capable of.
I write songs, I could do long poetic apologies..
Brendon kissed Dallon’s cheek as he left and Brendon sat down on the edge of the bed. Under the sheets I used my feet to kick Brendon’s clothes further down in case he came any closer.
“I’m really sorry, Ry. Dallon didn’t mean any of that, and – you know I love your lyrics.” Brendon said, gently, reaching out to squeeze my shoulder. I sunk into his touch almost ashamedly.
“I know..” I replied, softly.
“But seriously, don’t think bad of him, he comes out with these things sometimes. He does it to me too, but he can’t help it. Really, he’s a good guy.”
“Uhuh..” I mumbled, irritably. I didn’t need to hear about Brendon’s stupid boyfriend and how perfect he was.
“Come on, give him another chance. Maybe we could go for drinks some time?”
I think the moment that I punched Dallon Weekes was one of the highlights of my life.
He had been out of line for weeks. Even after the vomit incident at the restaurant he insisted on being a dick towards me and frankly, I didn’t care if Brendon hated me for it, because Brendon was never going to love me back, was he?
We were having drinks in a bar. Naturally I was pretending to scope for attractive people when in actual fact, I was watching Dallon and Brendon from the corner of my eye. Dallon was nibbling on the soft skin below Brendon’s earlobe – which I am yet to discover with my own lips.
I was sweating and I was angry. That night for some reason, whenever anybody touched Brendon I wanted to hurt them. A brush of fingers on his thigh, a kiss on the cheek – I wanted to brutally hurt them. But there were bigger reasons than that.
Such as Brendon hopping up to go the bathrooms and me watching as Dallon swanned into the crowd, hitting on some innocent boy who looked at least eighteen. Which was when I saw red.
I am not an aggressive person. I am as passive as a person can get; I don’t like violence, I will sit and I will take the violence, rather than be involved. But I couldn’t handle it any longer. His lips were centimetres from this boys ear and I leapt up from my seat, throwing a hard punch around his jaw before anyone could stop me.
The audible crack rung in my ears and radiated me with relief.
But then there was the retaliation.
He grabbed my hair and yanked me down, throwing a much harder fist in my eye.
And it stung like holy hell. I tried to fight back, only managing to throw another punch or two. But he was better than me and he punched me in the other eye, forcing me to let out a loud yelp.
I was weak and didn’t survive much longer than that – I just fell back to the floor, with flickering eyes, my eye socket feeling incredibly painful from the punch.
Brendon returned a few minutes later and stared down at me, kneeling beside me and brushing a hand over my hair.
“Are you okay? What happened?” Brendon asked, worriedly, his thumb pressing into my cheekbone. I stammered.
“Uh- uh, got in a fight..” I mumbled, in response. Brendon tilted his head and frowned.
“You need to stop getting into trouble.” He sighed, gently.
The jealously on Dallon’s face was evident as Dallon tapped Brendon’s shoulder, showing him the smaller bruise on his jaw that I had inflicted. Brendon cooed and cared for him, pressing little kisses to his cheeks, whilst I stood up with Spencer’s help, aching and holding my throbbing head.
Still one of the highlights of my life.
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