Categories > Celebrities > Panic! At The Disco > The Twists and Turns of Fate
I can't help but feel extremely nervous.
Yesterday's “date” was more than I expected, me thinking it to be awkward and quiet. It was everything but.
I've wanted to kiss him ever since, but I've had a lot more things to worry about than kissing. Brendon said he's getting even more tests done because the doctors said they had to look into his headaches which could be the symptom of something worse. I know he's going to be alright, but I can't help but be upset that he's in pain. Ryan approached me this morning as I was walking to school, telling me he is actually going to go with Brendon to the doctor. I can tell Ryan feels a new protectiveness over Brendon. He hasn't stopped showing concern. Maybe I'm upset, I don't know. I don't want him stealing my best friend.
I sit in orchestra, bored in my seat with the bass in my arms. The bassists never pay much attention on what's going on, it's only when we get yelled when we actually start to play. We're playing some symphony that the orchestra has played two years ago, which I remember. My music is slightly crumpled from when I shoved it in my backpack and I wish I wouldn't have, because it becomes harder to read.
“Basses, what the hell?” The orchestra guy asks from across the room and my head pops up. Oh, right. “Can I hear measures 101 to 105?”
“Can we not,” Nick mutters under his breath, standing up.
Mr. Bradley raises his arms and queues us. I play the part with no struggle, even though we go from first position to seventh within a 2 beats. It's not easy moving your fingers that fast, but I've worked enough to be able to do it. However the rest of the basses aren't as lucky.
“Okay, without Jon please,” The man raises his hand again and I scribble down an extra shift on my paper. They play it again, even less successful than before. “You'll be playing that in sectionals.” He comments, the rest of the orchestra snickers.
I practically doze off the rest of orchestra until I feel my phone vibrate in my pocket. While Mr. Bradley isn't looking I take it out and hide it behind my instrument, which is basically twice my width, and open the text from Spencer.
Look to your left ;).
Surely I do, and there's Spencer standing behind the door with a goofy face that makes me laugh way too noticeably.
“Problem?” The conductor asks me, surely he doesn't even know my name, but he's staring right at me.
“Uh,” I think for a moment, “no.”
“Thanks for disrupting class,” He snarls. I bite the inside of my cheeks. This man can't stand me.
I can't look away. Spencer is doing several things behind the door, like lip syncing the melody of the song. He blows a kiss and I can feel my face burning.
Once the bell rings, Spencer slips his way into the classroom and holds the door open to the storage room for me to put my bass away.
“I didn't mean to get you in trouble,” Spencer frowns, his blue eyes slightly panicked.
I put the instrument into it's place and scratch the back of my head. “He hates me.” I pause. “Actually, he hates everyone.”
“True,” Spencer shrugs. “So uh,” He takes a deep breath. I raise an eyebrow. “I think we owe each other something from yesterday.” He says matter-of-factly.
A part of me bursts. “Oh?” Is all I say, raising my eyebrows.
“Yeah,” He takes a step closer, placing a hand on my cheek and I can feel my heart quickening. His head comes closer to me for a moment, as if he's considering changing his mind. But he lifts his chin and his lips meet mine, soft so that they're barely touching. I was in shock for a moment before I started to react, letting myself kiss him back. Before I have the chance to wrap my arms around his waist the bell sounds. We're late for our next class, and it takes us a moment to pull away from each other.
“Let's go,” he says, holding out his hand.
I take it, letting him walk me to class.
-
Ryan's POV
“I just don't see why he can't stay in the room,” Brendon practically growls and I try my best to stand my ground.
“I feel like this is something between you and the doctors,” The nurse protests. I roll my eyes.
I stare at the nurse. “Okay, it's fine,”
“Ryan-”
“Tell me once you're out. Good luck,” I say.
Something is not right with Brendon, because the test showed something bad that they won't tell us. It's only him and two doctors and a nurse in the room with him. Not even his mother is by his side, but by mine, practically having a heart attack.
Brendon has been acting fine this morning, except for his complaining about a headache and slight nausea. My hands are shaking, thinking back to when he had the seizure the other day. I don't know what's going on.
If something is wrong with Brendon, I have no idea what will happen. Jon will pass out, Spencer would be upset, and I- I don't know. I've spent a lot of time with Brendon these past few days, getting to know him and hearing his stupid jokes I assume nobody else would laugh at. Even though he's probably sick, his spirit shows no sign of it.
“Julie,” the doctor motions his mother in, face still as stone. I just stay in my seat, with my hands balled up in fists trying not to shake. They won't let me in, I don't know why.
I grab the necklace around my neck, actually considering praying.
I'm left alone for another fifteen minutes, my thoughts racing until I stand from my seat and knock on the door.
“We're just about done,” the nurse says. I peek my head through, and Mrs. Urie and Brendon are silent. No reaction, no crying, just them as if they're frozen in time. I don't know what to do, whether to smile or to frown, so I just reflect their faces onto my expression.
“I uh,” Brendon sighs, “so are we free to go?”
“Yes,” One of the other doctors say. Brendon's mother takes a deep breath and stands, grabbing her purse off the chair it was hanging off of.
“Come on boys,” His mother motions us out. We get into the corolla and sit in more silence for a bit. I don't want to pry the diagnosis from him and I refuse to make assumptions. “Well, how about we go back to the house instead of school? It's been a hard day."
It has.
“Sure,” Brendon answers.
Mrs. Urie nods as she turns down their street.
“Are you gonna stay at my house for a bit?” Brendon whispers.
“If I'm not intruding.” He just shakes his head.
“I want you here,” He says as we get out of the car.
“I want to be here,” I reply quietly, making my way next to Brendon, our arms bushing against each other's briefly.
His room is a stereotypical musician's room, full of posters and two guitars and a keyboard on his desk.
“So,” He sits on his bed, then falling to lie down on his back. I follow suit, sitting on the edge and watching him. I see his full eyelashes from here, his eyes closed as he takes a breath.
“So,”
“I'm sick,” Brendon opens his eyes and stares at the ceiling.
I bite my tongue but it doesn't stop me from asking, “With what?”
“It's not important, what I have. I'll be okay.” His lack of confidence scares me.
I narrow my eyes, “Really? Because three doctors and a nurse were freaking out, and I could tell your mom was.” I almost yell. Brendon visibly tenses. “I'm sorry,” I apologize, trying to sound as convincing as possible.
“Come here, I don't want to sit up,” He motions me to lay next to him, and I do, staring right at him. His eyes stare at my features, as if he's taking in every detail of me. Water wells up in his eyes and a tear falls, and I brush my thumb along his cheek to make it go away.
“You'll be okay, everything will be okay,” I say, voice cracking. His bottom lip trembles as he moves closer to me, curling is smaller body against mine. “I promise,” I whisper.
I can no longer see his face due to it being pushed into my chest, but I take time to feel his hair. You can tell his closeness is necessary, and that all Brendon really needs is some company. I take a deep breath and smell his shampoo. He smells like mint.
-
Yesterday's “date” was more than I expected, me thinking it to be awkward and quiet. It was everything but.
I've wanted to kiss him ever since, but I've had a lot more things to worry about than kissing. Brendon said he's getting even more tests done because the doctors said they had to look into his headaches which could be the symptom of something worse. I know he's going to be alright, but I can't help but be upset that he's in pain. Ryan approached me this morning as I was walking to school, telling me he is actually going to go with Brendon to the doctor. I can tell Ryan feels a new protectiveness over Brendon. He hasn't stopped showing concern. Maybe I'm upset, I don't know. I don't want him stealing my best friend.
I sit in orchestra, bored in my seat with the bass in my arms. The bassists never pay much attention on what's going on, it's only when we get yelled when we actually start to play. We're playing some symphony that the orchestra has played two years ago, which I remember. My music is slightly crumpled from when I shoved it in my backpack and I wish I wouldn't have, because it becomes harder to read.
“Basses, what the hell?” The orchestra guy asks from across the room and my head pops up. Oh, right. “Can I hear measures 101 to 105?”
“Can we not,” Nick mutters under his breath, standing up.
Mr. Bradley raises his arms and queues us. I play the part with no struggle, even though we go from first position to seventh within a 2 beats. It's not easy moving your fingers that fast, but I've worked enough to be able to do it. However the rest of the basses aren't as lucky.
“Okay, without Jon please,” The man raises his hand again and I scribble down an extra shift on my paper. They play it again, even less successful than before. “You'll be playing that in sectionals.” He comments, the rest of the orchestra snickers.
I practically doze off the rest of orchestra until I feel my phone vibrate in my pocket. While Mr. Bradley isn't looking I take it out and hide it behind my instrument, which is basically twice my width, and open the text from Spencer.
Look to your left ;).
Surely I do, and there's Spencer standing behind the door with a goofy face that makes me laugh way too noticeably.
“Problem?” The conductor asks me, surely he doesn't even know my name, but he's staring right at me.
“Uh,” I think for a moment, “no.”
“Thanks for disrupting class,” He snarls. I bite the inside of my cheeks. This man can't stand me.
I can't look away. Spencer is doing several things behind the door, like lip syncing the melody of the song. He blows a kiss and I can feel my face burning.
Once the bell rings, Spencer slips his way into the classroom and holds the door open to the storage room for me to put my bass away.
“I didn't mean to get you in trouble,” Spencer frowns, his blue eyes slightly panicked.
I put the instrument into it's place and scratch the back of my head. “He hates me.” I pause. “Actually, he hates everyone.”
“True,” Spencer shrugs. “So uh,” He takes a deep breath. I raise an eyebrow. “I think we owe each other something from yesterday.” He says matter-of-factly.
A part of me bursts. “Oh?” Is all I say, raising my eyebrows.
“Yeah,” He takes a step closer, placing a hand on my cheek and I can feel my heart quickening. His head comes closer to me for a moment, as if he's considering changing his mind. But he lifts his chin and his lips meet mine, soft so that they're barely touching. I was in shock for a moment before I started to react, letting myself kiss him back. Before I have the chance to wrap my arms around his waist the bell sounds. We're late for our next class, and it takes us a moment to pull away from each other.
“Let's go,” he says, holding out his hand.
I take it, letting him walk me to class.
-
Ryan's POV
“I just don't see why he can't stay in the room,” Brendon practically growls and I try my best to stand my ground.
“I feel like this is something between you and the doctors,” The nurse protests. I roll my eyes.
I stare at the nurse. “Okay, it's fine,”
“Ryan-”
“Tell me once you're out. Good luck,” I say.
Something is not right with Brendon, because the test showed something bad that they won't tell us. It's only him and two doctors and a nurse in the room with him. Not even his mother is by his side, but by mine, practically having a heart attack.
Brendon has been acting fine this morning, except for his complaining about a headache and slight nausea. My hands are shaking, thinking back to when he had the seizure the other day. I don't know what's going on.
If something is wrong with Brendon, I have no idea what will happen. Jon will pass out, Spencer would be upset, and I- I don't know. I've spent a lot of time with Brendon these past few days, getting to know him and hearing his stupid jokes I assume nobody else would laugh at. Even though he's probably sick, his spirit shows no sign of it.
“Julie,” the doctor motions his mother in, face still as stone. I just stay in my seat, with my hands balled up in fists trying not to shake. They won't let me in, I don't know why.
I grab the necklace around my neck, actually considering praying.
I'm left alone for another fifteen minutes, my thoughts racing until I stand from my seat and knock on the door.
“We're just about done,” the nurse says. I peek my head through, and Mrs. Urie and Brendon are silent. No reaction, no crying, just them as if they're frozen in time. I don't know what to do, whether to smile or to frown, so I just reflect their faces onto my expression.
“I uh,” Brendon sighs, “so are we free to go?”
“Yes,” One of the other doctors say. Brendon's mother takes a deep breath and stands, grabbing her purse off the chair it was hanging off of.
“Come on boys,” His mother motions us out. We get into the corolla and sit in more silence for a bit. I don't want to pry the diagnosis from him and I refuse to make assumptions. “Well, how about we go back to the house instead of school? It's been a hard day."
It has.
“Sure,” Brendon answers.
Mrs. Urie nods as she turns down their street.
“Are you gonna stay at my house for a bit?” Brendon whispers.
“If I'm not intruding.” He just shakes his head.
“I want you here,” He says as we get out of the car.
“I want to be here,” I reply quietly, making my way next to Brendon, our arms bushing against each other's briefly.
His room is a stereotypical musician's room, full of posters and two guitars and a keyboard on his desk.
“So,” He sits on his bed, then falling to lie down on his back. I follow suit, sitting on the edge and watching him. I see his full eyelashes from here, his eyes closed as he takes a breath.
“So,”
“I'm sick,” Brendon opens his eyes and stares at the ceiling.
I bite my tongue but it doesn't stop me from asking, “With what?”
“It's not important, what I have. I'll be okay.” His lack of confidence scares me.
I narrow my eyes, “Really? Because three doctors and a nurse were freaking out, and I could tell your mom was.” I almost yell. Brendon visibly tenses. “I'm sorry,” I apologize, trying to sound as convincing as possible.
“Come here, I don't want to sit up,” He motions me to lay next to him, and I do, staring right at him. His eyes stare at my features, as if he's taking in every detail of me. Water wells up in his eyes and a tear falls, and I brush my thumb along his cheek to make it go away.
“You'll be okay, everything will be okay,” I say, voice cracking. His bottom lip trembles as he moves closer to me, curling is smaller body against mine. “I promise,” I whisper.
I can no longer see his face due to it being pushed into my chest, but I take time to feel his hair. You can tell his closeness is necessary, and that all Brendon really needs is some company. I take a deep breath and smell his shampoo. He smells like mint.
-
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