Categories > Celebrities > Panic! At The Disco > Troubled Times and Doubled Rhymes
Brendon's POV
The air had changed. Upon its grand opening, the morning had started off cool, filling the room in a stale, but not altogether uncomfortable chill. The muted tones of blue that shifted, dancing across the room's interior hadn't seemed to help in the race to change it, either. But now, now it had grown warm. Heat clung to my arms, almost palpable, almost reasonably considered liquid form.
And as I stood here, the tiny bathroom's linoleum floor glaring up at me, the warmth intensified. A light sweat had broken out across my chest, my collarbone now glistening with the sheen of enlightened perspiration. Running a hand through my hair only proved that my palms hadn't been spared, for they caught in my bangs, pressing them upward in an awkward mass, refusing to break away without a fight.
Turning toward the shower stall, I sighed. Showers in public developments had never been a highlight when it came to traveling, but they were necessary. Sliding my boxers off, the damp material pasting itself to my thighs, I turned the shower on, cool waves of mist filling the small room soon after.
---
Ren had been sitting on the bed, her legs folded neatly beneath her. She was reading what appeared to be the same as whatever Ryan had been, the cover the same dull black, the lettering the same metallic gold. As I entered the room, her gaze hadn't been removed from her current page, hadn't faltered, hadn't budged.
"What are you reading?" I asked, approaching her. She looked up, her eyes dropping down the length of my body before returning to my face.
"A book that was on the nightstand." She answered, a light blush trailing across her cheeks. Smirking, I sat down beside her.
"Probably the one Ryan's been reading. Again." I stated absently, adjusting my shirt against the damp, pale skin of my chest. "Wait a minute... Where is Ryan?"
"Ryan and Jon, I think, left while you were showering." Ren paused, running a hand through her hair. "Said they were going to get soda because you couldn't find the vending machines yourself." She giggled, turning toward me. "What's up with that?"
"Long story." I dismissed, the rough outlines of forgotten embarrassment playing out within the dark and distorted four corners of my mind. "What time is it anyway?"
"Ten fifteen." She sighed, leaning back against the mattress, her eyes studying the ceiling panels. "You know what, Brendon?"
"Hmm?"
"The last thing I expected for today was to be waking up with a long-lost high school friend. No sexual correspondence intended." Ren smiled, crossing her arms over her chest.
"Haha, did you know that he's still a virgin?" Spencer asked suddenly. I hadn't known how long he had been up, but now he was standing over us, grinning wildly.
"Are you really?" Ren laughed, sitting up. However she had found his comment funny, I certainly hadn't.
"I'm going to kick your ass, Spencer." I hissed, glaring at his smiling face.
"I'll take that as a yes. But, no ass-kicking please," She placed her arm on my shoulder, disrupting my death stare. "Because I think it's cool that you're not a whore."
"Nah, he's still a whore, he just can't get any." Spencer stated, crossing the room to a duffel bag entitled "SPNCR."
"That I cannot believe." Ren said, suppressing laughter. "Everyone can get some, and I highly doubt Brendon is an exception."
"You have no idea." Spencer replied half-heartedly, pawing through random articles of clothing and candy wrappers.
"We've got soda!" Jon announced, brandishing several cans of carbonation. "You really are directionally challenged, Bren."
"Why am I the center of everyone's jokes this morning?" I whined, throwing my arms in a comical "Why me, why is it always me?!" sort of manor.
"Because," Ryan shut the door with his heel before placing the cans beside the lifeless television set. "You're Brendon."
---
"I'm hungry." Spencer whined, pausing Guitar Hero to turn and stare at us.
"Spencer, Spencer, Spencer," I cooed, shaking my head, taunting him. "You're always hungry."
"That is true." Ryan agreed, the faint trace of a smile gracing his features. "But I do believe we all are, including myself."
"Yeah, pretty much." Jon added, pounding his fist against the microwave. "And I think this thing finally died."
"No, Jon, it's been dead. And the abuse technique only works on TVs and radios." Ryan observed, leaning farther back in his chair.
"And video gaming consoles." Ren said, blatantly amused at the band's seemingly constant rounds of bickering.
"True, but only sometimes with those." I replied. "With TVs and radios, it's nearly guaranteed."
"Anyway," Spencer sighed, sitting on the floor amidst mounds of blankets and bedding. "I'm still hungry whether or not abusing the f* out of a gaming console works or not."
"I say pizza." Jon suggested, giving the yellowing device another punch.
"Salad. And, Jon, can you please stop bitch slapping the microwave, you're giving me a headache." I commanded, massaging my temples.
"You are an ass, Brendon." Jon hissed, distancing himself from the beaten and battered heating equipment.
"Hey, at least I didn't want to be a proctologist* when I was a kid." I retorted, lying down on the bed beside Ren who continued to giggle quietly, her stomach convulsing obediently as she did so.
"I never wanted to be an ass man!" Jon defended, more than slightly revolted by my suggestion.
"That is not what your mother said!" I recalled our meeting with his mother who insisted on showing us his baby pictures, not bothering to render the slightest inch of his dignity intact by standing clear of his desired childhood occupations.
"Okay, that was when I was, what, ten?" Jon continued, his expression filled with extensive bewilderment.
"Sure, Jon, that's what they all say."
"How the hell did the topic of food get to ass men?" Ryan asked, furrowing his eyebrows.
"Yes, Ryan, for the sake of us all can we please talk about food now?" Spencer demanded, flinging a sheet wadded up in a dense ball across the room, thudding against the door and settling back down on the carpet.
"I'll go with anything." Ren stated, smiling serenely. If it hadn't been for Spencer speaking as loudly as he had, I would most likely of continued staring at her, making myself into the ass Jon had proclaimed me to be.
"Doesn't Papa Gino's serve both of those?" Spencer asked, as stated previously. I flinched, forcing my attention onto something, anything else. With my luck, I had found a pencil sticking out of the ceiling, my gaze transfixed by the random occurrence.
"Yeah, I think so." Ren added. "Either Papa Gino's or that Italian restaurant down the street."
"Hmm... That must be a new establishment; I've never seen it before." Ryan contributed, attempting to remember any little Italian shanties in the suburban end of Las Vegas. There were none.
"Ya know, I've never noticed that pencil there before." I stated absently, pointing up at the thing.
"I put it in there the first day here, Brendon." Ryan verified, smirking. "I'm surprised you've never noticed it. On second thought, I shouldn't be."
"What is that supposed to mean, Ryro?"
"Food. Can we stay on the topic of goddamned food?" Spencer ordered, face palming.
"I'll call, if you can find the number."
*Proctologist - one who specializes in the study and wellbeing of the anus.
The air had changed. Upon its grand opening, the morning had started off cool, filling the room in a stale, but not altogether uncomfortable chill. The muted tones of blue that shifted, dancing across the room's interior hadn't seemed to help in the race to change it, either. But now, now it had grown warm. Heat clung to my arms, almost palpable, almost reasonably considered liquid form.
And as I stood here, the tiny bathroom's linoleum floor glaring up at me, the warmth intensified. A light sweat had broken out across my chest, my collarbone now glistening with the sheen of enlightened perspiration. Running a hand through my hair only proved that my palms hadn't been spared, for they caught in my bangs, pressing them upward in an awkward mass, refusing to break away without a fight.
Turning toward the shower stall, I sighed. Showers in public developments had never been a highlight when it came to traveling, but they were necessary. Sliding my boxers off, the damp material pasting itself to my thighs, I turned the shower on, cool waves of mist filling the small room soon after.
---
Ren had been sitting on the bed, her legs folded neatly beneath her. She was reading what appeared to be the same as whatever Ryan had been, the cover the same dull black, the lettering the same metallic gold. As I entered the room, her gaze hadn't been removed from her current page, hadn't faltered, hadn't budged.
"What are you reading?" I asked, approaching her. She looked up, her eyes dropping down the length of my body before returning to my face.
"A book that was on the nightstand." She answered, a light blush trailing across her cheeks. Smirking, I sat down beside her.
"Probably the one Ryan's been reading. Again." I stated absently, adjusting my shirt against the damp, pale skin of my chest. "Wait a minute... Where is Ryan?"
"Ryan and Jon, I think, left while you were showering." Ren paused, running a hand through her hair. "Said they were going to get soda because you couldn't find the vending machines yourself." She giggled, turning toward me. "What's up with that?"
"Long story." I dismissed, the rough outlines of forgotten embarrassment playing out within the dark and distorted four corners of my mind. "What time is it anyway?"
"Ten fifteen." She sighed, leaning back against the mattress, her eyes studying the ceiling panels. "You know what, Brendon?"
"Hmm?"
"The last thing I expected for today was to be waking up with a long-lost high school friend. No sexual correspondence intended." Ren smiled, crossing her arms over her chest.
"Haha, did you know that he's still a virgin?" Spencer asked suddenly. I hadn't known how long he had been up, but now he was standing over us, grinning wildly.
"Are you really?" Ren laughed, sitting up. However she had found his comment funny, I certainly hadn't.
"I'm going to kick your ass, Spencer." I hissed, glaring at his smiling face.
"I'll take that as a yes. But, no ass-kicking please," She placed her arm on my shoulder, disrupting my death stare. "Because I think it's cool that you're not a whore."
"Nah, he's still a whore, he just can't get any." Spencer stated, crossing the room to a duffel bag entitled "SPNCR."
"That I cannot believe." Ren said, suppressing laughter. "Everyone can get some, and I highly doubt Brendon is an exception."
"You have no idea." Spencer replied half-heartedly, pawing through random articles of clothing and candy wrappers.
"We've got soda!" Jon announced, brandishing several cans of carbonation. "You really are directionally challenged, Bren."
"Why am I the center of everyone's jokes this morning?" I whined, throwing my arms in a comical "Why me, why is it always me?!" sort of manor.
"Because," Ryan shut the door with his heel before placing the cans beside the lifeless television set. "You're Brendon."
---
"I'm hungry." Spencer whined, pausing Guitar Hero to turn and stare at us.
"Spencer, Spencer, Spencer," I cooed, shaking my head, taunting him. "You're always hungry."
"That is true." Ryan agreed, the faint trace of a smile gracing his features. "But I do believe we all are, including myself."
"Yeah, pretty much." Jon added, pounding his fist against the microwave. "And I think this thing finally died."
"No, Jon, it's been dead. And the abuse technique only works on TVs and radios." Ryan observed, leaning farther back in his chair.
"And video gaming consoles." Ren said, blatantly amused at the band's seemingly constant rounds of bickering.
"True, but only sometimes with those." I replied. "With TVs and radios, it's nearly guaranteed."
"Anyway," Spencer sighed, sitting on the floor amidst mounds of blankets and bedding. "I'm still hungry whether or not abusing the f* out of a gaming console works or not."
"I say pizza." Jon suggested, giving the yellowing device another punch.
"Salad. And, Jon, can you please stop bitch slapping the microwave, you're giving me a headache." I commanded, massaging my temples.
"You are an ass, Brendon." Jon hissed, distancing himself from the beaten and battered heating equipment.
"Hey, at least I didn't want to be a proctologist* when I was a kid." I retorted, lying down on the bed beside Ren who continued to giggle quietly, her stomach convulsing obediently as she did so.
"I never wanted to be an ass man!" Jon defended, more than slightly revolted by my suggestion.
"That is not what your mother said!" I recalled our meeting with his mother who insisted on showing us his baby pictures, not bothering to render the slightest inch of his dignity intact by standing clear of his desired childhood occupations.
"Okay, that was when I was, what, ten?" Jon continued, his expression filled with extensive bewilderment.
"Sure, Jon, that's what they all say."
"How the hell did the topic of food get to ass men?" Ryan asked, furrowing his eyebrows.
"Yes, Ryan, for the sake of us all can we please talk about food now?" Spencer demanded, flinging a sheet wadded up in a dense ball across the room, thudding against the door and settling back down on the carpet.
"I'll go with anything." Ren stated, smiling serenely. If it hadn't been for Spencer speaking as loudly as he had, I would most likely of continued staring at her, making myself into the ass Jon had proclaimed me to be.
"Doesn't Papa Gino's serve both of those?" Spencer asked, as stated previously. I flinched, forcing my attention onto something, anything else. With my luck, I had found a pencil sticking out of the ceiling, my gaze transfixed by the random occurrence.
"Yeah, I think so." Ren added. "Either Papa Gino's or that Italian restaurant down the street."
"Hmm... That must be a new establishment; I've never seen it before." Ryan contributed, attempting to remember any little Italian shanties in the suburban end of Las Vegas. There were none.
"Ya know, I've never noticed that pencil there before." I stated absently, pointing up at the thing.
"I put it in there the first day here, Brendon." Ryan verified, smirking. "I'm surprised you've never noticed it. On second thought, I shouldn't be."
"What is that supposed to mean, Ryro?"
"Food. Can we stay on the topic of goddamned food?" Spencer ordered, face palming.
"I'll call, if you can find the number."
*Proctologist - one who specializes in the study and wellbeing of the anus.
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