Categories > Celebrities > Panic! At The Disco > Who Knew It Would Happen Like This?
Since that afternoon in the snow Brendon and I had become close friends. We spent almost every second night at each others houses - either Brendon at mine or I at Brendon's. It was nice to see him all the time, it was nice when he'd talk to me and tell me what was up with him. Whether some shit was going on at home or he was just missing me, he'd call.
One afternoon I skipped fourth period maths and went out behind the school buildings where I first met Brendon. The ground was no longer snow covered, but grassy and green. Sitting on the grass was Brendon. I skipped class for time out, and didn't even think that Brendon would be out here. But he was and I was glad.
"Hey Bren." I said as I sat beside him. He had a distant look in his eyes and didn't reply to my greeting. "Bren?" I poked him.
"Huh.. What?" He said, snapping out of his daze and turning to face me.
"Nothing.." I said quietly. "You just didn't reply when I spoke to you. What's up?"
Brendon groaned and buried his head in his hands, me asking him that question had obviously made him remember what he was thinking about. After a silent moment of Brendon sitting there with his head in his hands and me sitting next to him, waiting for him to answer my question, he replied.
"My parents threatened to kick me out again." He said, his hands muffled his voice so he sat upright instead. "I think they really mean it this time Ry." He finished quietly.
Ryan remembered the last time Brendon's parents had threatened to kick him out.
It was because of all the skipping classes he'd been doing. They'd finally found out, thanks to the principal, and they hadn't taken it well. Actually, they'd taken it terribly. And being told he skipped class so he could smoke cigarettes just made it all the more worse. They'd threated to kick him out if he didn't stop 'acting out'. So he quit 'acting out' just to please his parents. Until now that is.
Brendon had gone back to staring off into the distance now, he had a miserable look on his face. Ryan knew that he had been trying really hard to be the 'good little mormon boy' his parents always wanted him to be. Ryan also knew that Brendon hated having to please everyone else and yet he still did it despite hating it.
Ryan leaned over and laid his head on Brendon's shoulder, wrapping his arms around him in an awkward attempt at a hug.
"Why are do they want to kick you out this time?" He asked in a soft, quiet voice.
Brendon sighed heavily. "Because I'm just not good enough for them. I'm not the amazing son they tried to raise."
"You are amazing, Brendon."
"My parents think otherwise." He replied dully.
"Don't worry Brendon, things will be fine." I said, trying to convince him of it.
Brendon wriggled out of my grip so he could turn and fully face me. Then he pulled me into a proper hug.
"Thanks Ry." He said. "I'm glad you're here."
I was glad I could be there for Brendon too. Helping him made me happy, even if nothing else could.
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Ryan Ross ran up to his first floor room and slammed the door shut. He was trembling terribly and tears were streaming down his bruised cheeks. He pushed his heavy dresser in front of the door, to block it. It was difficult because he was trembling so, but the fear of what would happen if he didn't lock himself in helped him to do it.
Then as he heard quick footsteps approaching he ran and hid underneath his bed, curling into a tight ball. This can't be happening again, he thought as he heard loud banging on his door. That just made him quiver harder.
"Let me in you pathetic little boy!" He could hear his father screaming.
He pressed his hands over his ears to try and block out his father's angry shouting.
"Don't be such a coward!" His father yelled again.
Tears were now running down Ryan's face again, dripping onto the carpet, creating a small damp puddle. He was shaking violently, willing his father to go away.
After what seemed like an age the yelling stopped, so did the banging. Still Ryan didn't move. He thought if he did it would alert his father and he would start screaming again. So Ryan stayed curled up under his bed, he pressed his hands over his face and squeezed his eyes shut tightly.
He heard shuffling in his room and someone whisper softly, "Ryan?"
"Brendon?" Ryan choked out, he could hardly speak and the word came out barely a whisper. But Brendon heard him.
"Oh, Ryan." Brendon sighed, when he bent down and looked under the bed. Ryan was an awful sight, he was covered in bruises. He looked so vunerable, much younger than his sixteen years.
Brendon reached under the bed to grasp Ryan's hand. He didn't try and pull him out and Ryan made no attempt to come out from under the bed so Brendon just laid down on the floor next to him, still holding tightly onto his hand in a gesture of comfort.
"What happened Ry?" He asked, using his other hand to stroke Ryan's hair. He knew what had happened, or he could guess, but he wanted Ryan to tell him himself.
"Dad." Ryan replied as if it explained everything. To Brendon it did.
Brendon felt awful that he hadn't been here. Today he was supposed to have been coming over and he'd been held up at home, caught in another argument with his parents, and had arrived an hour later then he had supposed to have arrived. If he'd only arrived on time he could have stopped Ryan from getting hurt so badly. He didn't know how he would've stopped it but he had a feeling that being here may have just prevented it in itself. If not stopped it completely.
"I'm sorry."
Brendon was so sorry for not noticing everything that was going on with Ryan. Ryan had never said anything and Brendon had a feeling that it was because he had been too wrapped up in his own dramas and never stopped to ask what was going on with Ryan.
"Don't be sorry Brendon." Ryan said softly. He moved closer to Brendon so that he could rest his head on his chest, so he could feel his warmth and closeness. He only winced when his bruised ribs came in contact with Brendon's side and his bruised cheek pressed into his chest. The comfort he gained was worth it despite the pain his aggravated injuries were giving.
Brendon breathed in deeply. Feeling Ryan's closeness felt so right, just at the wrong time. They were only friends. Best friends, he told himself, that was all.
"Ryan, grab some stuff. I want you to come and stay with me."
Ryan lifted his head off Brendon's chest and looked up at him questioningly. As much as Ryan wanted to be out of this place, away from his father and away from the beatings, he didn't think Brendon's parents would appreciate his best friend moving in with him.
"My parents won't care. What I do doesn't concern them anymore." Brendon said as if to answer Ryan's unspoken question.
"But if suddenly I move into your bedroom, don't you think they're gonna notice Bren?"
"Not if I don't live with them anymore." He replied.
"What are you talking about?" Ryan was confused as all hell and his sore ribs were starting to ache worse.
"I don't live with my parents anymore, Ryan."
Since when had this happened? Ryan knew that Brendon's parents had threatened to kick him out weeks ago but he didn't realize that they actually had.
"Look, just grab some stuff and I'll show you what I'm talking about." Brendon got up and grabbed Ryan's hand so he could help him out from under the bed.
As Ryan stood he wiped off any remaining tears that he could and straightened his shirt, wincing as he felt a sharp pain in his lower torso. His ribs didn't feel broken, just badly bruised.
Brendon suddenly reached over and touched Ryan's face. "Your eyeliner was smudged." He explained.
Ryan nodded and quickly grabbed a backpack and shoved some spare clothes and his notebook into it. He didn't need much.
"Alright, lets go. Are you fine to climb out the window?" Brendon asked, he looked concerned because he had noticed my wincing at almost every motion I made.
"I'll be fine Brendon, please let's just get out of here."
As we were climbing out of my bedroom window, I glanced back at my room, I hadn't even bothered to move the dresser away from the door. My father would have fun with that.
We walked several streets before either of us spoke. We'd left the happy little suburban area we'd both grown up in and now we were hitting the grungy part of town. Funny how both of those contrasts could be just around the corner from each other.
"We're almost there." Brendon said.
I just nodded in reply. My ribs were really hurting now and I'd be happy for a rest.
We reached a dull grey apartment complex that didn't look very inviting at all. There was rubbish littering the sidewalk and graffiti marking the brickwork. It didn't look nice at all. But it was somewhere other then home. It was somewhere with Brendon.
We walked up the creaking and cracked stairs, Brendon leading with my backpack slung over his shoulder - he had taken it off me because I was 'too injured' to carry it myself - and I was following a few steps behind.
"Home sweet home." Brendon muttered as he pushed open the door to his new apartment. Then he nudged me gently inside and closed the door.
The apartment was ghastly. There was barely any furniture and the wallpaper was torn and faded in places. It smelt stale and old. Brendon ushered him to the one lonely sofa that resided in the lounge room and told him to sit down. Once again Ryan winced as he made the movement to sit.
"Ryan, do you need a hospital?"
"No." I answered flatly. "I'll be fine."
Brendon raised an eyebrow. He didn't believe me, hell, I didn't even believe me. He disappeared without warning but soon reappeared with an ice pack. He perched himself on the sofa beside my legs and inched my shirt up slightly. He frowned as he saw the dark purple-blue bruising that blemished my skin. I sat up slightly so I could get a better look at it myself. No wonder my ribs hurt so much, Dad sure knew how to kick hard, I thought bitterly.
"Your dad is a sick bastard." Brendon muttered angrily.
"He can't help himself." I found myself replying.
Brendon shook his head and frowned deeper. I flinched as I felt the cool ice touch my skin.
"Ow."
"It'll feel better in a minute." Brendon soothed, suddenly he had forgotten all about how much of a bastard my father was and was now focused making me feel better. He ran a hand through my hair, it felt comforting to me.
"Brendon..?"
"Yeah, Ryan?" He replied, studying me carefully, waiting for my question.
"This isn't 'just friends' is it?" I had to ask, I didn't feel it was. Maybe I didn't want it to be just friends. I needed to know what he thought, even though this probably wasn't the most opportune moment to bring up something like this.
"I don't know Ryan. Maybe not."
Do you want it to be more then just friends, Ryan? Brendon thought, but didn't speak it.
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[A/N] Okay, there you go. Another chapter. I hope you like.
I even upset myself writing about Ryan getting beaten, sometimes my imagination works too vividly.
Please do R&R. Tell me what you think of this chapter. And thanks to everyone who has reviewed so far.
One afternoon I skipped fourth period maths and went out behind the school buildings where I first met Brendon. The ground was no longer snow covered, but grassy and green. Sitting on the grass was Brendon. I skipped class for time out, and didn't even think that Brendon would be out here. But he was and I was glad.
"Hey Bren." I said as I sat beside him. He had a distant look in his eyes and didn't reply to my greeting. "Bren?" I poked him.
"Huh.. What?" He said, snapping out of his daze and turning to face me.
"Nothing.." I said quietly. "You just didn't reply when I spoke to you. What's up?"
Brendon groaned and buried his head in his hands, me asking him that question had obviously made him remember what he was thinking about. After a silent moment of Brendon sitting there with his head in his hands and me sitting next to him, waiting for him to answer my question, he replied.
"My parents threatened to kick me out again." He said, his hands muffled his voice so he sat upright instead. "I think they really mean it this time Ry." He finished quietly.
Ryan remembered the last time Brendon's parents had threatened to kick him out.
It was because of all the skipping classes he'd been doing. They'd finally found out, thanks to the principal, and they hadn't taken it well. Actually, they'd taken it terribly. And being told he skipped class so he could smoke cigarettes just made it all the more worse. They'd threated to kick him out if he didn't stop 'acting out'. So he quit 'acting out' just to please his parents. Until now that is.
Brendon had gone back to staring off into the distance now, he had a miserable look on his face. Ryan knew that he had been trying really hard to be the 'good little mormon boy' his parents always wanted him to be. Ryan also knew that Brendon hated having to please everyone else and yet he still did it despite hating it.
Ryan leaned over and laid his head on Brendon's shoulder, wrapping his arms around him in an awkward attempt at a hug.
"Why are do they want to kick you out this time?" He asked in a soft, quiet voice.
Brendon sighed heavily. "Because I'm just not good enough for them. I'm not the amazing son they tried to raise."
"You are amazing, Brendon."
"My parents think otherwise." He replied dully.
"Don't worry Brendon, things will be fine." I said, trying to convince him of it.
Brendon wriggled out of my grip so he could turn and fully face me. Then he pulled me into a proper hug.
"Thanks Ry." He said. "I'm glad you're here."
I was glad I could be there for Brendon too. Helping him made me happy, even if nothing else could.
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Ryan Ross ran up to his first floor room and slammed the door shut. He was trembling terribly and tears were streaming down his bruised cheeks. He pushed his heavy dresser in front of the door, to block it. It was difficult because he was trembling so, but the fear of what would happen if he didn't lock himself in helped him to do it.
Then as he heard quick footsteps approaching he ran and hid underneath his bed, curling into a tight ball. This can't be happening again, he thought as he heard loud banging on his door. That just made him quiver harder.
"Let me in you pathetic little boy!" He could hear his father screaming.
He pressed his hands over his ears to try and block out his father's angry shouting.
"Don't be such a coward!" His father yelled again.
Tears were now running down Ryan's face again, dripping onto the carpet, creating a small damp puddle. He was shaking violently, willing his father to go away.
After what seemed like an age the yelling stopped, so did the banging. Still Ryan didn't move. He thought if he did it would alert his father and he would start screaming again. So Ryan stayed curled up under his bed, he pressed his hands over his face and squeezed his eyes shut tightly.
He heard shuffling in his room and someone whisper softly, "Ryan?"
"Brendon?" Ryan choked out, he could hardly speak and the word came out barely a whisper. But Brendon heard him.
"Oh, Ryan." Brendon sighed, when he bent down and looked under the bed. Ryan was an awful sight, he was covered in bruises. He looked so vunerable, much younger than his sixteen years.
Brendon reached under the bed to grasp Ryan's hand. He didn't try and pull him out and Ryan made no attempt to come out from under the bed so Brendon just laid down on the floor next to him, still holding tightly onto his hand in a gesture of comfort.
"What happened Ry?" He asked, using his other hand to stroke Ryan's hair. He knew what had happened, or he could guess, but he wanted Ryan to tell him himself.
"Dad." Ryan replied as if it explained everything. To Brendon it did.
Brendon felt awful that he hadn't been here. Today he was supposed to have been coming over and he'd been held up at home, caught in another argument with his parents, and had arrived an hour later then he had supposed to have arrived. If he'd only arrived on time he could have stopped Ryan from getting hurt so badly. He didn't know how he would've stopped it but he had a feeling that being here may have just prevented it in itself. If not stopped it completely.
"I'm sorry."
Brendon was so sorry for not noticing everything that was going on with Ryan. Ryan had never said anything and Brendon had a feeling that it was because he had been too wrapped up in his own dramas and never stopped to ask what was going on with Ryan.
"Don't be sorry Brendon." Ryan said softly. He moved closer to Brendon so that he could rest his head on his chest, so he could feel his warmth and closeness. He only winced when his bruised ribs came in contact with Brendon's side and his bruised cheek pressed into his chest. The comfort he gained was worth it despite the pain his aggravated injuries were giving.
Brendon breathed in deeply. Feeling Ryan's closeness felt so right, just at the wrong time. They were only friends. Best friends, he told himself, that was all.
"Ryan, grab some stuff. I want you to come and stay with me."
Ryan lifted his head off Brendon's chest and looked up at him questioningly. As much as Ryan wanted to be out of this place, away from his father and away from the beatings, he didn't think Brendon's parents would appreciate his best friend moving in with him.
"My parents won't care. What I do doesn't concern them anymore." Brendon said as if to answer Ryan's unspoken question.
"But if suddenly I move into your bedroom, don't you think they're gonna notice Bren?"
"Not if I don't live with them anymore." He replied.
"What are you talking about?" Ryan was confused as all hell and his sore ribs were starting to ache worse.
"I don't live with my parents anymore, Ryan."
Since when had this happened? Ryan knew that Brendon's parents had threatened to kick him out weeks ago but he didn't realize that they actually had.
"Look, just grab some stuff and I'll show you what I'm talking about." Brendon got up and grabbed Ryan's hand so he could help him out from under the bed.
As Ryan stood he wiped off any remaining tears that he could and straightened his shirt, wincing as he felt a sharp pain in his lower torso. His ribs didn't feel broken, just badly bruised.
Brendon suddenly reached over and touched Ryan's face. "Your eyeliner was smudged." He explained.
Ryan nodded and quickly grabbed a backpack and shoved some spare clothes and his notebook into it. He didn't need much.
"Alright, lets go. Are you fine to climb out the window?" Brendon asked, he looked concerned because he had noticed my wincing at almost every motion I made.
"I'll be fine Brendon, please let's just get out of here."
As we were climbing out of my bedroom window, I glanced back at my room, I hadn't even bothered to move the dresser away from the door. My father would have fun with that.
We walked several streets before either of us spoke. We'd left the happy little suburban area we'd both grown up in and now we were hitting the grungy part of town. Funny how both of those contrasts could be just around the corner from each other.
"We're almost there." Brendon said.
I just nodded in reply. My ribs were really hurting now and I'd be happy for a rest.
We reached a dull grey apartment complex that didn't look very inviting at all. There was rubbish littering the sidewalk and graffiti marking the brickwork. It didn't look nice at all. But it was somewhere other then home. It was somewhere with Brendon.
We walked up the creaking and cracked stairs, Brendon leading with my backpack slung over his shoulder - he had taken it off me because I was 'too injured' to carry it myself - and I was following a few steps behind.
"Home sweet home." Brendon muttered as he pushed open the door to his new apartment. Then he nudged me gently inside and closed the door.
The apartment was ghastly. There was barely any furniture and the wallpaper was torn and faded in places. It smelt stale and old. Brendon ushered him to the one lonely sofa that resided in the lounge room and told him to sit down. Once again Ryan winced as he made the movement to sit.
"Ryan, do you need a hospital?"
"No." I answered flatly. "I'll be fine."
Brendon raised an eyebrow. He didn't believe me, hell, I didn't even believe me. He disappeared without warning but soon reappeared with an ice pack. He perched himself on the sofa beside my legs and inched my shirt up slightly. He frowned as he saw the dark purple-blue bruising that blemished my skin. I sat up slightly so I could get a better look at it myself. No wonder my ribs hurt so much, Dad sure knew how to kick hard, I thought bitterly.
"Your dad is a sick bastard." Brendon muttered angrily.
"He can't help himself." I found myself replying.
Brendon shook his head and frowned deeper. I flinched as I felt the cool ice touch my skin.
"Ow."
"It'll feel better in a minute." Brendon soothed, suddenly he had forgotten all about how much of a bastard my father was and was now focused making me feel better. He ran a hand through my hair, it felt comforting to me.
"Brendon..?"
"Yeah, Ryan?" He replied, studying me carefully, waiting for my question.
"This isn't 'just friends' is it?" I had to ask, I didn't feel it was. Maybe I didn't want it to be just friends. I needed to know what he thought, even though this probably wasn't the most opportune moment to bring up something like this.
"I don't know Ryan. Maybe not."
Do you want it to be more then just friends, Ryan? Brendon thought, but didn't speak it.
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[A/N] Okay, there you go. Another chapter. I hope you like.
I even upset myself writing about Ryan getting beaten, sometimes my imagination works too vividly.
Please do R&R. Tell me what you think of this chapter. And thanks to everyone who has reviewed so far.
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