FicWad

A/N: SO this chapter came out a little faster then expected. I hope it doesn't disappoint too badly and that you all don't hate me for how I left it. I never intend to write cliff hangers. It's just happens to come out that way when I write. XD

P.s. I love you all. Seriously. You pwn me so hXc. LOL. Oh, and your reviews are my life support. Keep 'em comin'. Okay, enough rambling and on to the story! Enjoy...
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The lights in the arena flickered and danced upon the stage before resting delicately on his painted features. The boys and dancers romped across the elevated floor in theatrical fashion and the stadium erupted in a sea of screams.

Brendon took an exaggerated bow after scanning the crowd. "...Thank you and good night."

I lingered in the pit for what seemed like an entire lifetime watching the crowd file out of the exits. I leaned against the backstage entrance thinking back to the concert.

The sweat dripping down his chin, long slender fingers swiftly strumming the notes in perfect form, and his almost plausible enthusiastic form (only proved false from the tell-tale sign in his eyes) make up the on stage persona so adored by his fans. He scoured the crowd as he finished up the song, Nails for Breakfast, Tacks for Snacks.

"I am alone in this bed, house and head, she never fixes this," he takes a moment to look down at the position of his fingers on his guitar before looking back up, "but at least she..." Brendon elongated the pronoun with such vibrato before his eyes landed on mine.

--"Prescribe pills to offset..." Ryan struggled, after a second stall from Brendon, to keep the song from falling apart. Ryan shot Brendon a "What the fuck are you doing?" stare, unnoticed by the sing-along chorus below them.

Brendon swallowed hard and shook his head in attempt to snap himself back to the present day. "...to offset the pills you know you should take it a day at a time..." Brendon sauntered, making the transition from complete shock to poised leading front man easily.

His eyes never failed to seek mine the rest of the night. I couldn't breathe. I couldn't think. I couldn't do anything but mouth the words, he sang so beautifully, back.

I was mesmerized. Every staged encounter with Ryan, just to coax a blushed response from him, was ingenious. He floundered across the platform with a dominating presence that only he could attain. He was a musical dynamo costumed in the skin of a perplexingly mysterious nineteen-year-old.

Someone tapped my shoulder. "You coming?"

I turned to face Spencer. I smiled at his current state: his hair was sticking up in every direction possible and the makeup he had on was now streaked from sweat.

I put my hand on his chin and yanked at the faux goatee. "It was crooked," I reasoned.

Spencer rolled his eyes. "Just come on...before someone sees me."

I giggled, following his lead.

We made our way out of the stadium and to the makeshift tour bus parking lot. A tinge of terror struck through me as I saw the vehicle. Spencer stopped at the top of the small stairs. "Well..."

"Uh... You go ahead. I'll come in a little bit." Longer, if I could help it.

Spencer shrugged and headed inside, closing the door behind him.

I sighed. I just wasn't ready to face being in there again. I walked over to the chain link fence surrounding the area and leaned up against it. Taking my Sidekick out of my purse I decided to check and see if my mother had called me.

"No new voicemails? What the hell?" I stuffed my phone back into my bag with a stubborn huff. As soon as my fingers released the gadget, it began to buzz. I picked it back up, annoyed, and read the new text message.

Get ur ass on the bus! Love JWALK.

"Fine, fine." I groaned aloud with a smirk. I dropped the phone into my purse and made my way to the tour bus.



"You can do this. You can do this." I uttered silently walking onto the bus.

"FINALLY!" Spence shouted at the television.

The boys were all crowded around the couch, each with controllers in hand, playing Mario Kart. All, except one of course.

"You just got fucking OWNED, my friend!" He rattled, jumping up from his seat and pointing to the screen.

"Where's Brendon?" I asked, not really expecting an answer.

"He's at the hotel." Ryan replied after pausing the game.

"Hotel?"

"Yeah, we actually get to sleep in fucking beds tonight! We just had to get our game on before we went though. Bren wasn't in the mood to get his ass handed to him, I suppose." Spencer commented snidely.

Three more games, seven and a half cans of Red Bull, and fifteen victory dances later we made it to the hotel.



"You're staying right?" Jon replied as he ran his fingers through his hair.

I glanced at my watch. "Uh...well, it is about 12 and I don't feel like driving home..."

Jon threw his arm around my shoulders. "Great!"

"Uh, okay." I said, unsure as to why he was so gleeful. "Where am I gonna sleep hot-shot?"

"We got a room for you already, my dear." He whipped out a key card and placed it in my hands.

"Thanks. How...uh, thoughtful?"

"Thoughtful sounds about right." Jon smiled, kissing my cheek. "Night. See you in the morning." I watched him walk away, his flip flops smacking the light-printed carpet.

The other two came around and gave me a group hug before heading off to their respective rooms. I yawned and read the numerals on the card. "Room 217, here I come."

After a short flight of stairs and a quaint elevator ride I made it to my room. I slid the key in the slot and opened the door. Without turning on the light I flung off my shoes and unzipped my jacket, letting it fall to the carpeted floor as the door shut soundly.

I stretched my arms over my head as I moved towards the inviting comforts of the hotel bed. I dropped them as my knees bumped against the high mattress. I softly padded my hands on the bed, still accustoming myself to the dark room.

I crawled onto the bed and reached my hand out to grab the large pillow beside me.

"Uughh."

What the fuck? That was no pillow. I tugged down the sheets around the bundled form.

A distorted grunt drifted from the anonymous blob. "Uuhhh..." The figure sat up, rubbing their eyes with the back of their hands. The sheet drifted from their chest.

And my heart stopped.

It's Brendon.

"Jooonnnn," he droned sluggishly. "I told you I just wanted to sleep. Leave me alooone."

"It's not Jon." I said flatly.

He placed his hands back down against the sheets. "Raquel?"

I laughed softly. "Yeah..."

I saw him shift in the obscurity as he reached his arm out. "I can't see you. Where are you?"

I moved softly towards him, until his fingers brushed against my cheek. "I'm right here."

He let his gifted hands linger there for a moment before he relinquished their contact with my heated skin and leaned over to the lamp beside the bed. He flicked it on and the glow of the light only defined his already brilliant features.

"What are you doing here?" Just to hear his voice made my whole body weak.

"Jon, actually." I paused for a moment. "He gave me a key...I'm sorry. If you want me to go-"

He put a hand around my wrist. "No. Don't go." He licked his lips after pulling his hand away. "Don't be mad," he warned tenderly.

"Why?"

"I told Jon to give you the key."

"How did you know I'd come?"

He smiled. "I hoped you would." He moved over to my side and kissed me innocently.

I backed away. "But... I'm still mad at you."

"Are you?" He asked; the sorrow drenched in his features.

"...No." I whispered. "I can't stay mad at you." I ran a hand through my hair to preoccupy myself from sobbing. "No matter how hard I try. I can't. I can't stop thinking about you and that drives me crazy. Any other sane person would have forgotten about you and wouldn't even think about giving you another chance." I sighed quietly. "You hurt me, Brendon..."

"I know..." He picked my hands up and doused a faint kiss on my knuckles. "I'm so sorry. You don't know how much I wanted to just quit the tour and be with you."

"Why would you do that, Brendon? You have so much going for you. You don't need me. There are plenty of girls who would want to be with you."

"But none of them are you. None of them could possibly deal with all my bullshit."

"I should get a fucking award for that one."

He chuckled sleepily, "You should." A grin slipped across his face and my heart couldn't help but melt.

When did I become such a pushover? I'm a damn fool... but you know what fools do, right?

Fools rush in.

I crashed my lips against his and-

I woke up to the sound of a steady beat on the door. I surveyed the room. Brendon was nowhere to be found. I slapped a hand to my forehead. It was a dream. Just another fucking dream.

I threw the sheets from my body angrily and stomped to the racket coming from the other side of the door.

"What do you want!?" I growl, half-squinting at the damned artificial sunlight as I slung the door open.

"I can see you aren't a morning person."

"Whatever gave you that impression?" I prod sarcastically, smoothing down my bed head.

"No idea." Ryan chuckled. "Anyways, we're gonna be downstairs. We have a few days off from the tour, so we're gonna go and...do shit."

"How nice."

"Come with us?" He pouted, batting his eyelashes profusely.

Even though I'm bitchy in the morning I couldn't refuse that face. "Fine," I shrugged. I swear Ryan Ross has persuasive powers beyond that of normal beings.

"Cool." He finally drank in my disheveled state and made a face. "Er...I guess... I'll let you go get freshened up. We'll wait for you, alright?"

"Sure. Bye Ry."

"Mmhmm," he mumbled as I shut the door in his face.

I drug my feet across the hotel room to the wide windows and closed the curtains. "Ugh, it's gonna be a long day... and I still haven't seen Brendon." I clasped my hands over my face and drew out a sigh.



"Ah, how wonderful of you to join us." Jon said extravagantly as I took a seat next to Ryan.

I looked up as I got situated and noticed Brendon sitting directly in front of me. A weak smile found its way onto my lips as our eyes met.

Spencer forked his pancakes furiously, making faces. "God, this shit is nasty. You'd think that we'd get better food at a fancy hotel like this," he complained, slamming his utensil down onto the table.

"I think it's pretty good." Ryan smiled mouth full of food.

Spencer grimaced at Ryan's lack of etiquette. "Whatever you say," he muttered beneath his breath.

Ryan looked up from his bowl of cereal, milk dribbling down his chin, with a face mixed with hurt and clueless bewilderment.

Jon slurped down his orange juice, peering at me and Brendon through the top of his long glass. He set it down and covered his mouth in a yawn before kicking Brendon in the shin unprovoked.

Brendon's stone face broke. "Ah, shiiitt! That fuckin' hurt! Bitch!" He slurred painfully, glaring at Jon.

Jon merely shrugged and darted his eyes in my direction. He then immediately looked at Brendon knowingly. Brendon opened his mouth to speak but snapped it shut instead. He shook his head at Jon and pushed his chair back violently and walked out of the lobby in a huff.

"Okaaay, what just happened?" Spencer asked, snagging grapes from the fruit basket in the middle of the breakfast table.

"Why don't you find out Rocky?" Jon smirked. He knew a lot more than he was telling.

Jon was starting to piss me off. I began to sit up, but instantly slumped back down due to my spinning head. It was this dull ache that just wouldn't go away. Ever since I woke up it had been there.

Jon laughed dryly. "No more of Jon's 'special' Red Bulls for you."

I rubbed my temple soothingly with two fingers. "What are you talking about?"

"Did you not notice?" He took another sip of his orange juice. "...that it was a little more uh... potent then your average energy drink?"

"Jon!" I flung a piece of soggy toast at him. He didn't even have time to flinch before the bread came in contact with his cheek. It slid down his cheek bone, the buttery remnants sticking to his scruffy skin.

He brought a hand to wipe his face. "I can not believe you just did that," he uttered slowly.

"I can."

"Shut up, Spence." Jon proclaimed, smearing the butter onto Spencer's shirt.

"Aw, fuck man!" Spencer groaned, eyeing the oily stain. "Now, in addition to having 'more of me to love' I smell like I should be the spokesperson for that butter shit... you know the one with that long haired guy...uh, Fabritzio or something. "

Ryan giggled. "Fabio, Spencer. Fabio."

"That's what I said."

Ryan rolled his eyes. "Sure, Spen." He then tilted his bowl and loudly slurped the rest of the tainted green milk from his Lucky Charms. He placed it down dramatically, wiping his mouth with his sleeve. "Ah...that was gooood." He paused for a moment, finally realizing we were all staring at him like a rare specimen in a zoological exhibit. "WHAT?"

"Nothing, Ry." Spencer shoved his picked-at food towards the center of the table. "But there is something that Raquel has to tell us though."

I wasn't expecting that. "What do you mean? There's nothing to say."

"Nothing to say?" Jon spoke loudly. "It's something, sweetheart if this," he pointed to his face, "happens. You don't just randomly start chucking pastries or the like at Jon Walker. It's just not right."

Ryan shook his head. "Yeah, it's just not right," he chuckled slightly.

"Whatever. Now, seriously. Gimme the details. Did you talk to him last night or what? I got a half-assed version from Brendon and most of it was this mumbly crap about..." His eyes dart up to the right in contemplation. "Hell, I dunno." He shrugged empathetically. "You know you can trust us, right?"

"Well, she better! Wait a minute. I don't want to upset her. She might toast my ass." Spencer giggled. He smiled brightly, showcasing that beautiful grin of his.

I laughed. "You're so stupid." I looked down towards the napkin on my lap. "Well, I did have a dream last night," I recalled, my voice soft and meek. "I remember him and me being in the same hotel room. Something about him telling Jon to give me the key? I don't know..." I trailed off, feeling insignificant.

Jon looked at me with wide eyes. "He did."

I smirked, playing off his answer. "Sure. So, what you're saying is that I wasn't dreaming and that I actually kissed Bren -- Oh my god!" I stopped for a moment, processing it all. "Oh shit. Oh. Shit. JON!"

"How the hell was I supposed to know you didn't remember?"

"I don't know!" I balanced my elbows on the table while my hands cradled my face. "I honestly thought it was a dream. I woke up and he wasn't there. You know that makes it even fucking worse! So, we - I don't know since I was drunk off spiked Red Bull - Thanks Jon - and..." I let out a grunt. "Dammit!"

Ryan placed a hand on my back, rubbing the tension calmly. "It's okay. Just talk to him."

"How can I do that? I don't even remember all of what happened last night. That's probably why he left. He didn't even want to deal with me. He didn't even want to see me." Tears pooled my eyes. I thought I was done with crying over him. I guess I was wrong. "What do you guys think? You're his friends..."

"Sure, but none of us are romantically involved with him." Spence shot Ryan a glance with suggestive eyebrows. "Right, Ry?"

"Dude," he drawled, "that's for the show."

Spencer chuckled, "I know. I just love to see you get all embarrassed." He scratched his head, ruffling his straight spiky hair. "Sorry, uh..." He reflected for a minute, boring a hole into the bruised apple in front of him. "I don't know, Raquel... you obviously still care for him." He twisted the short brown stem. "Just talk to him."

"I know I should." I breathed deeply.

"THEN DO IT! Ryan said, exasperated.

Jon let out another yawn. "Work it out. I'm tired." He motioned to Spencer and Ryan. "We're all tired. We're done dealing with Brendon's crap. The bread thing was minimal compared to the shit he's been pulling. I could have sworn he was a chick with chronic PMS if I didn't know any better."

"He's moodier than Pete Wentz lately and /that/," Spencer stuck a pointer finger out to wag at me," is saying something."

My head was throbbing, but it couldn't compare to the ache in my chest. "I'll go." I loudly whispered.

Spencer, Jon, ad Ryan nodded accordingly.

"Don't worry," Jon said softly, placing a hand on my shoulder after he got up from his chair. He rubbed my shoulder for a moment before slipping away from behind me.

Ryan followed after. "It'll be okay," he pointed out, as he tipped his cap. He adjusted his yellowish-tan scarf around his neck and spun on his heels towards Jon's direction.

"And if it's not... I'll... I'll kick his ass." Spencer added with a smile before lightly jogging to catch up to Ryan's lanky figure.


Finally I stood. I took another deep breath and exhaled. It felt so foreign to me. Having feelings like this. It was like being stuck on 'pause' while everything else was zooming on 'fast forward'. A solemn tear trickled down my cheek.

I knew in that moment that Brendon was someone I wasn't willing to watch walk away. I wasn't about to see his name scrolling through the end credits of my life.

I wanted him.

I needed him.

"I ...I love him."