Categories > Celebrities > Panic! At The Disco > Stolen


by IndiaGirl 0 reviews

Ryan sees something he won't forget.

Category: Panic! At The Disco - Rating: PG-13 - Genres: Angst,Drama - Published: 2013-02-24 - 1650 words

Today Dallon insisted that we all went to another fancy dinner. As far as I was concerned they should stop taking me on these, because something bad always happens. I’ll probably vomit on someone this time. Maybe Dallon.
I dressed nicely. And when I say nicely, I mean, black and white pinstripe jeans that fitted tightly around me, a white shirt, and a black waistcoat. I even put eyeliner on.
I think my main aim was just to make Brendon look at me. Because that’s all that’s all allowed now. And make Dallon be jealous whilst Brendon looks at me.
I literally have no feeling towards Dallon other than hatred. Not just for taking away the only guy I’ve ever properly liked, but also taking the guy who I’ve ever loved, and not treating him like he deserves to be. I listen to their conversations and sometimes I feel like Brendon isn’t quite as committed as Dallon would like him to be.
But maybe that’s just me and my wishful thinking.
I walked out into the living room, and Brendon was sat there, staring at the carpet. His hair was combed back neatly; he wore a dark, bottle green shirt, a dinner jacket, and a pair of dark skinny jeans. Under his eyes was a tiny dusting of eye pencil and he looked gorgeous. He looked slam me down on the kitchen floor gorgeous.
But there was a sadness lingering behind his eyes and usually, I would go and sit with him, console him, ask him why and cheer him up. But this time I knew exactly why and I couldn’t console him. That was what hurt most.
Dallon wandered through and looked me up and down, before scowling and sitting down with Brendon, pushing a kiss to his cheek and helping him up to his feet. Jon and Spencer finally arrived – laughing, and coming from the same room. Who they were trying to fool, I don’t know.
But at least they got their happily ever after.
We walked to the restaurant, but I dragged behind. Jon and Spencer were absorbed in one another; Brendon was forbidden to speak to me and Dallon had all of his attention anyway.
So I trudged behind. Just me on my own now, I guess.
We sat down in the restaurant, and I was placed beside Dallon, oddly, with Brendon opposite him. I didn’t understand it, and I definitely didn’t like it. Why didn’t I get to be next to Brendon?
As everyone chatted, Brendon’s eyes often flicked to glaze over me, and every time he did it, Dallon’s gaze narrowed. I wouldn’t be surprised if he went to pat me on the back and stabbed me.
I think Dallon would like that.

After our meals Dallon stood up and wandered to the bathroom, and Brendon relaxed, looking at me with a small smile.
“You look very nice, Ryan.” He said, in an almost whisper. I beamed back at him, to make him feel better.
“You look nice too. And thanks, for um, the other night. I’m guessing you helped me back to my room..”
“Yeah,” Brendon nodded, gently. “I wanted to stay with you but since of things lately I um, assumed you wouldn’t want me to..”
I almost ripped a chunk out of my leg which how hard I was gripping it under the table.
“I was okay, I um, felt fine the next day.”
Brendon smiled at me until he saw Dallon approaching, and he then dropped his gaze back to his lap, pretending him and I hadn’t been speaking. Something weird was going on and I didn’t like it.
“Sweetheart.” Dallon beamed, holding Brendon’s hand across the table. “If you’d all listen, I have something very important to say.”
My heart literally dropped into my stomach. What – what was happening? None of this could be real, I-
“Brendon Urie,” Dallon started, holding Brendon’s hand gently in his own. Brendon’s eyes were wide, his mouth slightly open. “I met you a year and a half ago, and – well, what can I say? They were the best times of my life.. Ever since we met, I just – I’ve thought you were fantastic. And I would be incredibly honoured..”
I snapped my gaze to my knees and noticed soft glint of silver in Dallon’s other hand, which he was bringing up onto the table. My forehead was sweating and so were my palms.
I can’t believe I was watching this happen.
“If you would be my husband.”
Everything went still.
I thought my insides were going to burst. My eyes were stinging, my breath shaky, my fingers wobbling on my knees. I looked to Spencer and Jon who looked just as shocked as me, their fingers interlocked across the table – and then to Brendon. With wide eyes he turned and glanced at me, licking across his bottom lip. He blinked at then turned back to Dallon, breathing in deeply, before shutting his eyes and nodding.
My entire world came crashing down around me and I was confident that I was definitely going to be sick. Instead I stared into space, shivering as Jon reached under the table and took my hand, and Brendon and Dallon kissed across the table. Brendon had a forced smile on his lips, and the way he looked at me – almost looked as though he was upset. Maybe he was.
Maybe he knew that this was a mistake.
It definitely was a mistake.

Champagne was drunk and speeches were given, but I was distraught the entire time. I kept my gaze fixed on the table cloth, trying not to cry, trying to process everything that had happened. But I couldn’t.
We all trundled back home to the beach house, where Dallon and Brendon canoodled on the sofa for the rest of the evening, and I sat there, watching, and wanting to die inside.
When I finally went to my bedroom that night I crawled under the sheets, taking the shirt Brendon had left with me, and cuddling to it, letting all the tears spill down my cheeks. I hated this, I hated everything about it – none of this was fair. If I had just told Brendon that I liked him when he had no boyfriend – whether he was gay or not – maybe this never would have happened. Maybe I wouldn’t be sobbing into a bed that isn’t mine, clinging to the only thing I have that can comfort me.. Feeling like an idiot whilst his boyfriend ridicules me and makes me a fool.
Will I be invited to the wedding?
I mean, would Brendon and Dallon want me there?
Dallon doesn’t even want me in his life, but Brendon – I mean, we’re still best friends. But with Dallon around we’re not allowed to be friends. Not even talk.
And that is the worst thing that could ever happen.
Imagining my world without Brendon being there only makes me cry harder.
Why am I so hung up on this guy?
Because I am so in love, and he does not love me.

Later into the evening there was a knock at my door and Jon appeared, shutting and locking the door behind him. He moved over to sit on the edge of my bed and he pulled me onto his lap.
Jon sighed. “Ryan..” I sobbed and cuddled against his chest. “It’ll be okay, Ryan, don’t cry.” He hushed, stroking down the back of my head. I shook my head.
“How c-can I not cry?” I wailed. “He’s getting married, Jon.”
And how could I not cry? Everything was going to hell. Every single thing. Now I had not a single chance of kissing him – no chance of holding his hand, no chance of cuddling him when it’s cold outside, no chance of being anything but a guy he used to know.
“I know, I know,” Jon held my head against his chest. “But everything will be okay, you have to move on now, sweetheart. Brendon’s happy.”
“But I don’t think Brendon is happy!” I responded, loudly, crying harder. Jon jumped and tried to cradle me.
“Why do you think that?” He asked, stroking down my hair. I continued to sob, my eyeliner running down my cheeks.
“He just looks so sad,” I sniffled. “Plus, Dallon told him he wasn’t allowed to be friends with me anymore.. I’m not even allowed to be friends with him, Jon.” Jon’s hands tightened around my shoulders and he shushed me, gently.
“You really have got it bad, haven’t you?” Jon frowned, squeezing me. “We can’t do anything, Dallon is his fiance, we’re just going to have to deal with it, aren’t we?” He laid me down on the bed, tucking me in. He found Brendon’s shirt and held it up.
“Is this..?”
I snatched it off him and tucked it next to me.
“He gave it to me,” I sniffed. “He was going to meet Dallon but before he left he just – gave me this shirt. I don’t understand what it means,” I sobbed again, covering my face with the shirt.
Jon gently prised it from between my fingers.
“This is your shirt, Ryan.” Jon whispered, softly. “He was borrowing it. And he gave it back.”
My shoulders deflated and my heart dropped. Why was he wearing my clothes, and why didn’t he just.. Just tell me? Jon exhaled and tucked me in, pressing a sweet kiss to my forehead.
“Come get me if you need me.” He whispered, shutting the door behind him.
I really needed him.
But I didn’t go get him.
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