Categories > Celebrities > Panic! At The Disco > Stolen
I literally gave Dan around thirty seconds after he came through the door before moving over to him and ripping his clothes off. I pressed my lips up against his and his hands stroked down my shoulder blades, pushing me against the wall.
“Ryan – hold on-“
Pushing my hands through his hair, I pressed my lips up against his, and his hands finally moved to touch my waist, lifting up my shirt over my head. I threw his shirt to the floor and his belt and jeans followed – and I think I was possibly being a little more frantic than normal. Dan was overwhelmed, as I covered his body with kisses, nibbles – I was just going insane.
He pulled my jeans down my legs and pushed me down onto the floor, tongues touching against my inner cheek, his hips pressing against my own.
“Ryan, wait,” Dan whispered, putting a hand on my shoulder and holding me against the carpet. I bucked my hips up and writhed under him. I needed to get closer.
“What?” I groaned.
“Is this really a good idea? You’re clearly upset.”
“I’m fine. I need this Dan, just do this for me.” I pressed, and he nodded, breathing huskily into my ear, before yanking my boxers away from me and tossing them aside.
It had to be then, when it happened.
“Ryan, I had to come and tell y-“ Brendon’s gentle voice came through the door and I looked up from where I was lied, midway through screeching his name into the thick air.
My legs were draped over and around Dan’s neck – my whole naked body sprawled on the floor and on display – burning a light scarlet in the heat and passion.
Sweating, with slightly parted lips and half hooded eyes, mesmerised under a touch that was all pretend, I looked up at Brendon, and the look on his face broke me in half.
Brendon’s eyes were wide, welled with tears, his skin flushed pink with humiliation. He stepped back through the door, just as I finished shouting out his name from between my lips, and slammed it behind him. This was not how it was supposed to go.
Embarrassed, I curled up in a ball on my side, both hands over my face, shaking.
This couldn’t have happened.
It couldn’t have.
Not to me, not ever.
Dan crawled over to me, with crimson cheeks, lying beside me. He’d pulled his boxers back on and he passed me my own pair, which I put on, in embarrassment.
“That was Brendon, huh?” Dan sighed, putting an arm around me. I sniffed and nodded, curling against him.
“That was Brendon.” I repeated, cuddling to his chest. “And now.. Now he..”
“Ryan?” Dan stopped me, midsentence. “If I’m honest with you.. I think this guy – I think he likes you. I do. But he’s a married man, and – you’re not in the business of stealing husbands, are you? You’d be just as bad as him.”
“I would be stealing, I’d be saving,” I sniffed. “Dallon doesn’t love him like I do.”
“You need to get over him. Fuck Brendon okay, you deserve so much better. Not someone who messes you about.”
I know his words were supposed to make me comforted, but they just made my insides ache and hurt, and tears spring from my eyes. I asked him to leave. I couldn’t handle it.
I crawled into my room, cradling my aching head, pretending I didn’t exist as I cried. This wasn’t fair – Brendon had no right to be like that with me.
This is how I had felt for the last two years. Did he ignore that fact? Did he ignore the bit where he stomped on my heart everyday, and made me feel like I was less than nothing?
But that wasn’t him. That was Dallon.
None of this was fair.
Part of me wanted to go into the bathroom and locate one of my razors. It had been at least seven years.
But I was a mess.
I wanted out. Not permanently, just for a few days, a week – just leave, get my head straight. But this apartment was filled with scents and memories that cradled me in my nightmares and I couldn’t go. I had no money – I had no body – I had nothing.
I’m pretty sure I’d be getting kicked out of my apartment soon. And then what would I do? Where could I go?
Maybe I could get Dallon to knock me out and put me into comatose for a few days.
Brendon would realise how much of a massive idiot Dallon is and kick him out. Get the marriage eradicated. Come find me in the hospital and wake me from my horrible, deep sleep. Wake me with a kiss.
Wouldn’t that be perfect?
I crawled out of the bed and towards the cupboard. Some of Brendon’s clothes were still there – Dallon had forced him to buy new ones anyway. I tucked myself into his side of the wardrobe, amongst the jumpers and shirts, holding a hand over my mouth.
I felt like I was going to relapse.
As if this guy had gotten me so wound up. Of course, it wasn’t just him.
It was the late passing of my father, the realisation that my musical career was going nowhere, Dallon’s cutting comments that made me want to crawl into a hole and die – the constant reminders that in the real world, no one wanted me, and no one could help me.
That was what caused me to have my third panic attack for three years.
I wasn’t going to let it happen. I shook my head, regulating my breathing as the phone rang. I moved towards it slowly – it would probably be Brendon, apologizing for walking in, or Jon, asking how I was, or Dan, saying that he had left his wallet around my house. I answered the phone, fingers shaking.
“Hello?”
“I’m looking for Ryan Ross?”
“That’s me.”
“Ah. Well, we haven’t been receiving bills for the past few months – we have sent letters and called frequently, but you have never answered.. I’m afraid we’re going to have to ask you to leave the apartment.”
That was what really did it for me.
I dropped the phone and panicked, the long, piercing tone ringing in my ears, my breathing increasing rapidly.
I needed Jon, I needed Spencer, I needed Dan, and I needed Brendon. I needed someone who could help me.
I hated panic attacks. I sat down on the sofa, putting a hand over my eyes, my vision blurring up, reaching blindly beside me for the phone. I shakily dialed their numbers, but no one answered.
I dialed Brendon’s, but the voice I was met with was not one I liked.
“B-Brendon?” I sniffled, shakily through tears and rapid breathing.
“No, Dallon. What do you want?” Dallon replied, flatly.
“I need to s-speak to Brendon,” I mumbled, clinging to the phone. I heard Brendon’s voice in the background.
“You can’t speak to him, he’s busy.”
“Hey – wait, Dallon – hey, let me talk to him-“
“Please let me talk to him,” I sobbed. “I n-need to,”
“He’s busy.”
“Dallon, let me speak to him-“
There was loud complicated argument between the two and I sat, shaking, my knees up against my chest, my breathing wild and out of control. But then that gentle voice returned.
“Ryan, it’s me,” Brendon said, clearly. “Now, calm down, right now, stand up.”
I followed his orders and he talked to me, telling me to go to my bedroom, to rub my back. I ducked my head through my tears.
“What happened, Ry?” He asked, a little coldly. “Did your boyfriend break up with you?”
I let out a sob. “He’s not my boyfriend,” I breathed in, wobbling. “He’s not my boyfriend- it w-was just a one t-time thing, I..”
“It didn’t look like a one time thing.”
I let out another harsh sob. “He’s not my boyfriend, he isn’t interested,” I cried. “No one is interested, no one loves me, no one wants to even be my friend – no one wants to listen to my shitty music and no one wants to care for me.. No one would care if I wasn’t around and no one understands that I’m literally the only person I have.”
Brendon was silent.
“Ryan..” He murmured, gently. “I.. I need to see you.”
“In hell are you seeing him! You’re not going anywhere near that guy.”
Dallon’s voice radiated down the phone and I stuffed a hand over my mouth.
“I can do what I want, he’s my best friend.” Brendon responded, trying to muffle the phone. It didn’t work.
“He wants to fuck you Brendon, don’t you see? He’s wanted to fuck you from the start. Why do you think he hates me so much?”
I think it took my a few seconds to process before I was stumbling to the bathroom, and retching. The phone was on the side, and I could still hear everything.
“He doesn’t want to..” Brendon’s voice hesitated, and I couldn’t only imagine that in his mind, he could just see me lied on the floor, crying out his name whilst I was with another guy. And if that wasn’t enough evidence for him, I don’t believe he is as bright as people think.
“Yeah. See, I was right. Now get off the phone. He’s fine. If you keep pretending you like him he’ll just think he has a chance of fucking you, and he doesn’t.”
Brendon breathed in heavily.
“Goodbye, Ryan.”
“Ryan – hold on-“
Pushing my hands through his hair, I pressed my lips up against his, and his hands finally moved to touch my waist, lifting up my shirt over my head. I threw his shirt to the floor and his belt and jeans followed – and I think I was possibly being a little more frantic than normal. Dan was overwhelmed, as I covered his body with kisses, nibbles – I was just going insane.
He pulled my jeans down my legs and pushed me down onto the floor, tongues touching against my inner cheek, his hips pressing against my own.
“Ryan, wait,” Dan whispered, putting a hand on my shoulder and holding me against the carpet. I bucked my hips up and writhed under him. I needed to get closer.
“What?” I groaned.
“Is this really a good idea? You’re clearly upset.”
“I’m fine. I need this Dan, just do this for me.” I pressed, and he nodded, breathing huskily into my ear, before yanking my boxers away from me and tossing them aside.
It had to be then, when it happened.
“Ryan, I had to come and tell y-“ Brendon’s gentle voice came through the door and I looked up from where I was lied, midway through screeching his name into the thick air.
My legs were draped over and around Dan’s neck – my whole naked body sprawled on the floor and on display – burning a light scarlet in the heat and passion.
Sweating, with slightly parted lips and half hooded eyes, mesmerised under a touch that was all pretend, I looked up at Brendon, and the look on his face broke me in half.
Brendon’s eyes were wide, welled with tears, his skin flushed pink with humiliation. He stepped back through the door, just as I finished shouting out his name from between my lips, and slammed it behind him. This was not how it was supposed to go.
Embarrassed, I curled up in a ball on my side, both hands over my face, shaking.
This couldn’t have happened.
It couldn’t have.
Not to me, not ever.
Dan crawled over to me, with crimson cheeks, lying beside me. He’d pulled his boxers back on and he passed me my own pair, which I put on, in embarrassment.
“That was Brendon, huh?” Dan sighed, putting an arm around me. I sniffed and nodded, curling against him.
“That was Brendon.” I repeated, cuddling to his chest. “And now.. Now he..”
“Ryan?” Dan stopped me, midsentence. “If I’m honest with you.. I think this guy – I think he likes you. I do. But he’s a married man, and – you’re not in the business of stealing husbands, are you? You’d be just as bad as him.”
“I would be stealing, I’d be saving,” I sniffed. “Dallon doesn’t love him like I do.”
“You need to get over him. Fuck Brendon okay, you deserve so much better. Not someone who messes you about.”
I know his words were supposed to make me comforted, but they just made my insides ache and hurt, and tears spring from my eyes. I asked him to leave. I couldn’t handle it.
I crawled into my room, cradling my aching head, pretending I didn’t exist as I cried. This wasn’t fair – Brendon had no right to be like that with me.
This is how I had felt for the last two years. Did he ignore that fact? Did he ignore the bit where he stomped on my heart everyday, and made me feel like I was less than nothing?
But that wasn’t him. That was Dallon.
None of this was fair.
Part of me wanted to go into the bathroom and locate one of my razors. It had been at least seven years.
But I was a mess.
I wanted out. Not permanently, just for a few days, a week – just leave, get my head straight. But this apartment was filled with scents and memories that cradled me in my nightmares and I couldn’t go. I had no money – I had no body – I had nothing.
I’m pretty sure I’d be getting kicked out of my apartment soon. And then what would I do? Where could I go?
Maybe I could get Dallon to knock me out and put me into comatose for a few days.
Brendon would realise how much of a massive idiot Dallon is and kick him out. Get the marriage eradicated. Come find me in the hospital and wake me from my horrible, deep sleep. Wake me with a kiss.
Wouldn’t that be perfect?
I crawled out of the bed and towards the cupboard. Some of Brendon’s clothes were still there – Dallon had forced him to buy new ones anyway. I tucked myself into his side of the wardrobe, amongst the jumpers and shirts, holding a hand over my mouth.
I felt like I was going to relapse.
As if this guy had gotten me so wound up. Of course, it wasn’t just him.
It was the late passing of my father, the realisation that my musical career was going nowhere, Dallon’s cutting comments that made me want to crawl into a hole and die – the constant reminders that in the real world, no one wanted me, and no one could help me.
That was what caused me to have my third panic attack for three years.
I wasn’t going to let it happen. I shook my head, regulating my breathing as the phone rang. I moved towards it slowly – it would probably be Brendon, apologizing for walking in, or Jon, asking how I was, or Dan, saying that he had left his wallet around my house. I answered the phone, fingers shaking.
“Hello?”
“I’m looking for Ryan Ross?”
“That’s me.”
“Ah. Well, we haven’t been receiving bills for the past few months – we have sent letters and called frequently, but you have never answered.. I’m afraid we’re going to have to ask you to leave the apartment.”
That was what really did it for me.
I dropped the phone and panicked, the long, piercing tone ringing in my ears, my breathing increasing rapidly.
I needed Jon, I needed Spencer, I needed Dan, and I needed Brendon. I needed someone who could help me.
I hated panic attacks. I sat down on the sofa, putting a hand over my eyes, my vision blurring up, reaching blindly beside me for the phone. I shakily dialed their numbers, but no one answered.
I dialed Brendon’s, but the voice I was met with was not one I liked.
“B-Brendon?” I sniffled, shakily through tears and rapid breathing.
“No, Dallon. What do you want?” Dallon replied, flatly.
“I need to s-speak to Brendon,” I mumbled, clinging to the phone. I heard Brendon’s voice in the background.
“You can’t speak to him, he’s busy.”
“Hey – wait, Dallon – hey, let me talk to him-“
“Please let me talk to him,” I sobbed. “I n-need to,”
“He’s busy.”
“Dallon, let me speak to him-“
There was loud complicated argument between the two and I sat, shaking, my knees up against my chest, my breathing wild and out of control. But then that gentle voice returned.
“Ryan, it’s me,” Brendon said, clearly. “Now, calm down, right now, stand up.”
I followed his orders and he talked to me, telling me to go to my bedroom, to rub my back. I ducked my head through my tears.
“What happened, Ry?” He asked, a little coldly. “Did your boyfriend break up with you?”
I let out a sob. “He’s not my boyfriend,” I breathed in, wobbling. “He’s not my boyfriend- it w-was just a one t-time thing, I..”
“It didn’t look like a one time thing.”
I let out another harsh sob. “He’s not my boyfriend, he isn’t interested,” I cried. “No one is interested, no one loves me, no one wants to even be my friend – no one wants to listen to my shitty music and no one wants to care for me.. No one would care if I wasn’t around and no one understands that I’m literally the only person I have.”
Brendon was silent.
“Ryan..” He murmured, gently. “I.. I need to see you.”
“In hell are you seeing him! You’re not going anywhere near that guy.”
Dallon’s voice radiated down the phone and I stuffed a hand over my mouth.
“I can do what I want, he’s my best friend.” Brendon responded, trying to muffle the phone. It didn’t work.
“He wants to fuck you Brendon, don’t you see? He’s wanted to fuck you from the start. Why do you think he hates me so much?”
I think it took my a few seconds to process before I was stumbling to the bathroom, and retching. The phone was on the side, and I could still hear everything.
“He doesn’t want to..” Brendon’s voice hesitated, and I couldn’t only imagine that in his mind, he could just see me lied on the floor, crying out his name whilst I was with another guy. And if that wasn’t enough evidence for him, I don’t believe he is as bright as people think.
“Yeah. See, I was right. Now get off the phone. He’s fine. If you keep pretending you like him he’ll just think he has a chance of fucking you, and he doesn’t.”
Brendon breathed in heavily.
“Goodbye, Ryan.”
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