Categories > Celebrities > Panic! At The Disco > Losing the Feeling of Feeling Unique

Chapter 4

by RyanRossLuver 1 review'll get it later

Category: Panic! At The Disco - Rating: PG-13 - Genres: Angst,Drama,Romance - Warnings: [!] - Published: 2008-02-15 - Updated: 2008-02-16 - 1045 words - Complete

The past year has flow right by, and it’s now July 2005. Ryan has finally plucked up some courage and has posted links to the band’s demos on Pete’s livejournal and purevolume accounts, and the band has grown in so many ways. My friendships with Brent, Brendon and Spencer have also grown a lot; being in every class you take with someone you know can do that. I can actually stand to be around Brent now, and I never realised he has a sense of humour. Admittedly, it’s one that is centred on incredibly bad puns, but it is one nonetheless. Brendon has been trying to get me to talk to a girl for him, which was incredibly funny for a while, before I accidentally let slip to her that Brendon was too chicken to ask her; she went out with him for a pity date by the end of the four month charade. And as for me and Spencer, we’ve grown a lot closer, and I’ve been contemplating the idea of taking our relationship to a further level. Ryan and I are as close as ever, with him even considering moving into Brendon’s place – god knows Brendon’s parents would love to have him there, since he is so polite and clean looking and not, well, me.

But today we were lounging around in Brendon’s living room, playing random video games and laughing at the oddest non-cussing profanities we could spill from our mouths, so we wouldn’t upset Mr or Mrs Urie.

Where is your boy tonight? I hope he is a gentleman.

“Hey Peter Pan!” I said giddily down the phone. I haven’t been able to talk to him in a few months, and I missed my weekly Pete fix.

“Hey Tink, how are you?”

“Good, good. Almost regretting re-taking my senior year, but what else is new?”

“Yeah, good point. Anyway, I listened to those demo’s you texted me about last week,” he said, chuckling at my over-enthusiasm, or raging sarcasm as Brent called it.

“You did! Oh my god, what did you think of them?”

“I’d like to see the band live.”

“Uh, why exactly? You’ve heard the demos, what else is there to know? Oh, I get it, you can only sign them if they wear make-up and are as good looking as you,” I joked. The boy’s turned their attention to me at the sentence containing make-up and good looking. They probably thought we were gossiping about his latest conquest.

“Well, we’re recording our new album in LA next week, and I thought I’d pop down to listen to the guys play live. Based on the demos alone I want to sign them, but I do need to check their live performance, just in case.”

“Oh my god! Yes! Please do that! They’ll be ecstatic!”

“Okay. I’ll see you and the band next Tuesday then.”

“Awesome. Bye Pete.” Next Tuesday? Hang on, that’s like, three day’s away. I hung up my cell and sat down on the couch between Spencer and Ryan.

“On Tuesday, you’re performing a showcase for Pete Wentz, who wants to sign you to his label.”

“We what?! How did you manage that N?” Brendon asked, completely dumbstruck sitting on the floor by my feet, back pressed against the couch. I started playing with the hair at the back of his neck, and thought of how to explain my newest predicament.

“Well, you know how I’m good friends with Pete? Well, about a month ago, RyRy posted links to demos of “Cause Boys Will Be Boys”, “Relax, Relapse” and “Nails For Breakfast, Tacks For Snacks” on Pete’s Livejournal and Purevolume accounts, and I texted him to listen to them. He said that from the demos alone he wants to sign you guys, but he needs to check your live performance, because I kind of told him you’ve never played a gig before.”

“Who cares! What time is he coming?” Brent asked.

“Um, good question. I kind of forgot to ask him. I’ll call him back.”

“Can you put him on speaker-phone so we know you’re not lying about him coming down?”

“Ry, do you really think I’d lie about something like this? I’ll do it anyway, to please you, but I’m surprised you don’t trust me enough.” I dialled Pete’s cell, and he picked up on the third ring.


“Hey Peter, I’m putting you on speaker-phone…hang on.” I pressed the correct button (for once) on my cell, and rested it on my leg.

“Okay, you’re clear to talk.”

“Okay, well, one: don’t call me Peter unless you put a pan after it. No one calls me Peter anymore, not even Patrick. And two: why are you calling me when we got off the phone like, a minute ago?”

“Well, the boys didn’t believe me when I told them you wanted to hear them play.”

“And who said that? Was it your brother? Or your boyfriend?”

“Uh, that would have been me,” Ryan spoke up.

“And who exactly is “me”?”

“Ryan, my twin brother.”

“Okay, well Ryan. I am the real deal here, and I’m coming down on Tuesday to see you and your band…what was it…Panic! At a club or something at 1pm.”

“By the way Mr. Wentz, it’s Panic! At the Disco. And we’ll be ready for you on Tuesday,” Brendon corrected.

“And who is that speaking now? Another new voice.”

“That’s Brendon, my best friend.”

“Okay, well I have to go. Joe’s beating Andy up again and I’m the only one who can bring peace between them.”

“Okay. Bye Pan.”

“See ya Tinks.” I hung up and looked around at everyone.

“Pete Wentz is coming to see us play! We’d better get rehearsing,” Ryan said, and for the next three days, the boys did nothing but rehearse. We had a three night sleepover at Brendon’s place, and I was so happy that I had a deciding part in my brother’s, boyfriend’s and best friend’s lives.
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