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inkisrunningTitle: Ryan Named Me (or chapter one of my love story)
Author:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
calidearie
Rating: PG-13 (for a bit of potty language and a dirty scene)
Pairing: Ryden, Ryan/girlfriend with no name, Brendon/un-named brunette, Jon/girlfriend (name not mentioned)
POV: Brendon's
Summary: Brendon reveals his love story, wherein there is bad sex, bear naming, slamming doors, taquito eating Spencer, girlfriends, love-seats, and it's not necessarily in that order, oh my...
Disclaimer: I don't own them, maybe Peter owns Ross. (Lucky a** if he does.) Anyway, until I see proof, they own themselves. The cut text belongs to Jack's Mannequin.
Author Notes: (1) Written because I'm a procrastinator when it comes to homework. I hate myself for giving into the temptation, but at least I wasted an hour or two creating fanfic! (2)UNBETA'D: Thank you, longerthanwedo! You're awesome!
Teh Love Story
Ryan Named Me (or chapter one of my love story)
Ryan Kissed Me (or chapter two of my love story)
Ryan Found Me (or chapter three of my love story)
Ryan Saved Me (or chapter four of my love story)
Ryan Virginated Me (or chapter five of my love story)
Ryan F&cked Me (or chapter six of my love story)
Ryan Loves Me (or the last chapter, but not the end to my love)
ccc
It all started with a kiss.
Okay, no, this story doesn't really start with a kiss, but fuck, wouldn't it be pretty awesome to start a story with that line? Especially when it's a love story--MY epic, EPIC love story... wouldn't that be cool?
Well, this story, unfortunately, or perhaps it IS fortunately—considering, that yeah, the ending pretty much rules. Whatever the case, this story started with sex.
I know, I know, you're probably thinking What the hell? Unfortunateness? What the hell? Sex is sex and any sex is good sex, and sex usually includes kissing anyway, so what is Brendon Boyd Urie on about? That's what you are thinking, right?
Well, let me be one to tell you, not all sex is of the good kind. Trust me, I know.
ccc
"Just a little bit more--more harder. Mmmmpf." The voice shattered my concentration.
"I'm a--" I breathed, trying to regain some sort of control. I tried not to think about the fact that I should have wanted to lose control at that point.
I opened my eyes at the next words I heard.
"Fuck please... I'm so… so close... so..."
And in that moment my hazy made up dream disappeared and reality shrunk in. A questioning look crossed the features of a brunette lying under me. And it was all wrong. So very wrong.
I lost it. It all went downhill from there, or uphill. Uphills are more difficult, you see?
The brunette started to run her hands along my arms and I tried and failed to not pull away.
Then the phone rang. My exit. And I took it. This only confirmed how screwed up my simple life had become.
"Hey Urie!" A familiar voice called out from the other end.
"'Sup?" I replied as if I didn't just fail at sex, or as if the girl next to me didn't just slap my arm as she struggled out of my bed.
"Get your ass here! Spencer is helping me make my home at Ryan's. There's fun to be had here Urie, and you're..." I couldn't make out Jon's next words, but there was definite screaming and laughing on the other end of the phone-line. Or rather, cell phones don't use lines, they're wireless, so I guess it was the other end of the... magic stuff. 'Magic stuff' sounds kind of stupid, I'm sure Ryan would know what word to use. He's that kind of smart. I'm also not certain of the technology of the magic stuff. But I'm certain I wasn't feeling all that connected to the other person at the other end. Maybe my phone lost some of its magic.
"How come you guys started without me? I didn't even know you were here already." I didn't mean to sound so pouty, especially when it was Jon who I was speaking to. I should have sounded chill. Thank the-powers-that-be that he couldn't see my wobbling lip.
"Got into an earlier flight, Ryan picked me up. Hey, what's up?" I guess he used his superjwalk powers and saw my pout something-odd miles away. Great. I must have looked so uncool in his mind, too. It was bad enough he had gotten a hold of my old high school pictures.
"Nothing," I muttered into the phone. "I'll be over in five." Now, that sounded cool, even to me. Too bad though, Jon probably saw through it anyway. Damn him and his supercoolpowers.
ccc
I never thought that I was the jealous type at all. I thought that I was as laid back as they come. Pretty girls a plenty that came one minute and left by minute three for their next conquest without even a second glance back--Psssh, who cares? I certainly didn't.
People have said that my attention span is as short as... I'll let you decide how to finish that simile. There are so many of them, I can't even decide. Really, everyone I came across had something to say about it, even the ones who were polite enough to not say anything at all. I knew this. Be it an eye-roll, a pat on my leg, or an awkward laugh; it's all the same thing. It all meant the same thing: I'm a freak.
I had these pills, pills that were supposed to help me with my problem, my problem that put everybody else ill at ease.
But I knew of one person who wasn’t forced to love me, but loved me anyway.
My family is forced to; it falls under the unconditional love clause for being a member of the family. And other relatives... well; it's all relative, isn't it? Besides, who really cares? The relationships that seem more, MORE, I don't know, just more, are the relationships that people form, because they were involved in the creation of it. It means putting effort into a relationship because you want to maintain it. Does that make sense?
In any case that brings me back to the one person who I'm sure loves me despite my problem that I couldn't help to fix. This person told me that he loves me, even if he didn't say so in words. I knew it in the way that he threw away the pills that I hate taking. I knew it in the way that he looked me in the eye and told me "It's not you that needs changing." I knew it in the way that whenever I cross a line, he tells me so, because he, unlike everybody else, isn't afraid to say what's on his mind. He somehow knew that it was exactly what I wanted, needed, wished I could do, too.
Sure, I said things without thinking; I normally say what's on my mind. But it's different from speaking your mind. That's what he does. It takes a lot to do what he does naturally. People have said that he could be an ass. People said that he could be cold. People said that he could be difficult. I never said and or thought any of those things about him, even now. And I think this was how I showed him that I love him.
I told him that I loved him too, but he didn’t understand this. He didn't understand how a person could love a person like him. This was the only thing about him that I found stupid. Not to say I didn't love that part of him as well. To tell you the truth, I thought it was kind of cute. But sometimes I would wonder: Did he not know himself? Did he not see himself? What was there to NOT love?
The thing though, there was not many people who could stand me. Spencer, he stands me, likes me too. He loves Ryan like a brother; so, some say that once you get passed that hurdle, doing anything else is cake. Zack loves me too, I think this is because he is so damn protective and thinks I'm such a fucking kid that it gives him more of an edge, it makes him feel more needed, which is a good thing because the band needs him. I need him. Shane, he's cool with me too. If Jon equals cool, then Shane equals cucumber. See what I did there? That's a simile disguised as a metaphor. Cool as a cucumber... Now, I know what you're thinking, in that simile cool means cool, like cold, and not cool like Shane, or Jon for that matter. But don't mess this up for me, okay? Now, Jon, he loves everybody. And everybody includes me. Got that?
And I'm not hating on Jon, I love the guy, but sometimes I wished that he wasn't himself. Sometimes I wished that Jon wasn't Jon.
Jon moved in with Ryan. Not in an everyday, permanent way. He was only to stay at Ryan's whenever he was in Vegas. It was a lot easier than making hotel reservations and the like. This way, 'he has a home away from home.' It was Ryan who said that. And that was one of those times when I wished Jon wasn't Jon because I love Jon, and he definitely deserves a "home away from home," but fuck, why did he get to have that with Ryan?
ccc
I brushed my hand through my hair before I rang the doorbell to Ryan's home--Ryan and Jon's home. I thought maybe I should have showered, I still smelled like sex. No, actually, I think I was fine the way I was, I smelled like sex.
Spencer opened the door, a taquito hanging in-between his lips. He pulled it from his mouth after he took a bite and closed the door. "Hey man, you're late."
"Hey. I didn't know to be early. No one told me. Where is everybody?"
Spencer nodded to the couch as he swallowed the rest of his taquito down. "Taking a break from moving things."
"He brought two suitcases, how much moving could that involve?" I rolled my eyes.
"A lot of moving when things from said suitcases don't match the decor of the house," Spencer said a little too loudly.
And I guess the tone served its purpose when I heard Ryan call out: "Not only does his shit NOT match, it’s just… ugly." Ryan wasn’t in my line of sight at that moment, but I didn’t need to see him to know that he had scrunched his nose in that way of his.
I also knew without seeing that Jon would be giving him that look of his. You know that look of his that’s a cross from ‘how dare you say such things’ and ‘I see what you did there,’ kind of looks. Yeah, that look. That all-knowing look was accompanied with a smirk. "Not match? This from the dude who coordinates flowers with stripes?" Jon had retorted.
I made my way to the living room where they were both sprawled on the love-seat. I saw no need for the both of them to be sharing the two-seater when there was a perfect, larger couch in the same room that was left unoccupied. That was until Spencer decided to plop down and splay himself across it.
So I sat on a squashy thing near the coffee table, feeling a bit awkward.
Ryan raised an eyebrow at me. I already knew what he was thinking. A second passed in silence. And he had let it go.
"So, Bren, did you know that Jon has a teddy bear named Bob?" Ryan said this as he looked over at Jon, who didn't even try to stop Ryan from divulging such a secret. And like all juicy secrets, I was all over it.
"No way! Why Bob, Jon? I wanna see it? Where is he?"
"My girlfriend gave it to me and what else would you call a bear? And I don't know where he is. Ryan hid him, along with all my other things.”
Ryan laughed. "Even Brenny Bear makes for a better name."
Jon chuckled. "Oh, and what name did you name your bear? And don't say you didn't have any bears, everyone had a teddy bear at some point."
Ryan narrowed his eyes and bit his lip as he took a moment to gather his thoughts. "No, I don't think I had any bears. There was this one time when I gave one to an old girlfriend as a gift. I stole it back though because…” He paused for another moment. “Well, actually, I guess you can say Bren is my bear." Ryan grinned as he looked at me and effectively, changed the subject in the process. "I'd name him something cool too, like… Peppy or Baby. Or Peppababy!" Ryan smiled now, looking like a kid who got his first teddy.
"Peppababy?" Jon rolled his eyes.
"I like it," I say and all eyes landed on me.
"Dude, not even Disney could think of a name so… so schmoopy," Jon said, laughing.
"You're just jealous that Ryan named me and hates your teddy's name." I said, and I think it came out a little too strongly. But it was too late anyway to take my words back.
"Yeah, yeah, I admit, I'm jealous." Jon placed a hand behind the chair, which actually meant putting his arm around Ryan's shoulders. "Hey Ross, what happened to the bear that you stole back?"
Ryan shrugged. "Beheaded it, ripped out its stuffing, that sort of thing. The head part came in handy; I used its button eyes to replace the buttons I lost on one of my shirts."
"Wow," Jon said. "I don't feel so jealous now. I hope you keep your eyes, Peppababy." Jon smiled as he stood up and stretched. "Who wants more taquitos?"
ccc
Two weeks later, I walked into Ryan and Jon's house. Jon was sitting on the couch. He motioned me over and patted his hand on the empty seat beside him, asking for me to sit.
So, I sat there, feeling like an idiot. I wondered if he really could hear the thoughts in my head. And if he heard the thoughts that were running through my head since the day he moved in with Ryan, I would have died. Because I did--DO love him. Fuck, what kind of friend am I?
"They're at it again." Jon said into my ear.
"What? Who?" I whispered back. But Jon didn't need to answer because then I hear it: shouting behind closed doors. It was time for a break-up between Ryan and his girlfriend. Again.
I sighed.
They did this all the time. And when I heard Ryan finally scream, "fine!" I distinctly remember the feeling of my own heart breaking. I wanted to take away the pain from Ryan’s voice. And I wanted to do things like murder when his girlfriend stormed out of the room, yelling, "You messed up, Ryan Ross! You don't deserve me!"
Ryan came out of the room and I watched him stare her down. "Well, in that case, maybe he DOES deserve you after all."
Ryan flinched when the front door slammed, but he walked back into his room like nothing even happened. His bedroom door clicked softly shut.
"Did you know about this?" Jon asked.
My first thought was, ‘how could you NOT know when you play to the man's lyrics practically every night.’ And then I realized what he was really asking. "No. No, not really, no."
Jon nodded. "Maybe he shouldn't be alone."
"He shouldn't be," I said.
"Well, what are you waiting for?"
"What do you mean?"
"It's obvious man. Go and get the fuck on with it. If you don't, then she, or someone like her, is going to find a way into his life. And I'm going to have to watch you break every time you sing his words."
Everything fell into place.
"How did you--"
"Know? Because I'm fucking Jon Walker."
"Hey, I'm sorry if I..."
"Forget it man, if I had me for competition, I'd be bitter too." Jon smiled.
"I wasn't bitter."
"Yeah Urie, you kind of were."
"I love you, Walker."
"I love you too." Jon laughed. "And just so you know, it sounds kind of lame when you use my last name."
"You don't say that when Spencer uses it."
"Yeah, but Spencer is Spencer and you, Brendon, are Brendon... And that's okay."
And that is why I love Jon Walker. He's totally cool.
ccc
I didn't say anything when I walked into Ryan's room.
I found him curled into a ball on his bed. His eyes were closed, but he wasn’t crying or anything. Not even sleeping, I could tell by his uneven breathing. He was just… there.
I joined him on his bed. His back was to my chest and I hugged him to me. I heard him let out a sound, a cross from a sigh and a choke. I felt his shoulders relax through the layers of our clothes and I listened to his breathing become steadier.
"Hey, Bren," he said, without even looking back. This made my heart swell because I realized that he didn't even need to look to know it was me who was there with him.
I raised my head and whispered into the crook of his shoulder and neck. "What is it?"
"You really are my bear, aren't you?"
"Always, Ry. Always."
"I won't rip off your head then," Ryan said against the pillow.
"Good, because I kind of like that it's attached to my neck. It makes living easier. And plus, I wouldn't be able to eat, I like being able to eat. That, and I wouldn't be able to sing, which would suck if I wasn't able to because then I wouldn't be of much use as lead singer in the band... would you guys kick me out?"
"Oh, I don't know about that," Ryan said as he turned around in my arms to face me. His hands went up, and I felt his fingers thread through my hair. His eyes searched mine and in that deep voice of his, he muttered: "you could always play the piano."
I was about to speak, but Ryan took my words away when he placed a finger to my lips.
"But then again, I wouldn’t be able to do this." And then he kissed me.
George Ryan Ross kissed me, and did you know that his initials spell out GRR?
The End Looks like there will be a second part to this…
AN: ‘unfortunateness’ is not a word. Brendon made it up because he can;)
Author:
calidearieRating: PG-13 (for a bit of potty language and a dirty scene)
Pairing: Ryden, Ryan/girlfriend with no name, Brendon/un-named brunette, Jon/girlfriend (name not mentioned)
POV: Brendon's
Summary: Brendon reveals his love story, wherein there is bad sex, bear naming, slamming doors, taquito eating Spencer, girlfriends, love-seats, and it's not necessarily in that order, oh my...
Disclaimer: I don't own them, maybe Peter owns Ross. (Lucky a** if he does.) Anyway, until I see proof, they own themselves. The cut text belongs to Jack's Mannequin.
Author Notes: (1) Written because I'm a procrastinator when it comes to homework. I hate myself for giving into the temptation, but at least I wasted an hour or two creating fanfic! (2)
longerthanwedo! You're awesome!Teh Love Story
Ryan Named Me (or chapter one of my love story)
Ryan Kissed Me (or chapter two of my love story)
Ryan Found Me (or chapter three of my love story)
Ryan Saved Me (or chapter four of my love story)
Ryan Virginated Me (or chapter five of my love story)
Ryan F&cked Me (or chapter six of my love story)
Ryan Loves Me (or the last chapter, but not the end to my love)
ccc
It all started with a kiss.
Okay, no, this story doesn't really start with a kiss, but fuck, wouldn't it be pretty awesome to start a story with that line? Especially when it's a love story--MY epic, EPIC love story... wouldn't that be cool?
Well, this story, unfortunately, or perhaps it IS fortunately—considering, that yeah, the ending pretty much rules. Whatever the case, this story started with sex.
I know, I know, you're probably thinking What the hell? Unfortunateness? What the hell? Sex is sex and any sex is good sex, and sex usually includes kissing anyway, so what is Brendon Boyd Urie on about? That's what you are thinking, right?
Well, let me be one to tell you, not all sex is of the good kind. Trust me, I know.
ccc
"Just a little bit more--more harder. Mmmmpf." The voice shattered my concentration.
"I'm a--" I breathed, trying to regain some sort of control. I tried not to think about the fact that I should have wanted to lose control at that point.
I opened my eyes at the next words I heard.
"Fuck please... I'm so… so close... so..."
And in that moment my hazy made up dream disappeared and reality shrunk in. A questioning look crossed the features of a brunette lying under me. And it was all wrong. So very wrong.
I lost it. It all went downhill from there, or uphill. Uphills are more difficult, you see?
The brunette started to run her hands along my arms and I tried and failed to not pull away.
Then the phone rang. My exit. And I took it. This only confirmed how screwed up my simple life had become.
"Hey Urie!" A familiar voice called out from the other end.
"'Sup?" I replied as if I didn't just fail at sex, or as if the girl next to me didn't just slap my arm as she struggled out of my bed.
"Get your ass here! Spencer is helping me make my home at Ryan's. There's fun to be had here Urie, and you're..." I couldn't make out Jon's next words, but there was definite screaming and laughing on the other end of the phone-line. Or rather, cell phones don't use lines, they're wireless, so I guess it was the other end of the... magic stuff. 'Magic stuff' sounds kind of stupid, I'm sure Ryan would know what word to use. He's that kind of smart. I'm also not certain of the technology of the magic stuff. But I'm certain I wasn't feeling all that connected to the other person at the other end. Maybe my phone lost some of its magic.
"How come you guys started without me? I didn't even know you were here already." I didn't mean to sound so pouty, especially when it was Jon who I was speaking to. I should have sounded chill. Thank the-powers-that-be that he couldn't see my wobbling lip.
"Got into an earlier flight, Ryan picked me up. Hey, what's up?" I guess he used his superjwalk powers and saw my pout something-odd miles away. Great. I must have looked so uncool in his mind, too. It was bad enough he had gotten a hold of my old high school pictures.
"Nothing," I muttered into the phone. "I'll be over in five." Now, that sounded cool, even to me. Too bad though, Jon probably saw through it anyway. Damn him and his supercoolpowers.
ccc
I never thought that I was the jealous type at all. I thought that I was as laid back as they come. Pretty girls a plenty that came one minute and left by minute three for their next conquest without even a second glance back--Psssh, who cares? I certainly didn't.
People have said that my attention span is as short as... I'll let you decide how to finish that simile. There are so many of them, I can't even decide. Really, everyone I came across had something to say about it, even the ones who were polite enough to not say anything at all. I knew this. Be it an eye-roll, a pat on my leg, or an awkward laugh; it's all the same thing. It all meant the same thing: I'm a freak.
I had these pills, pills that were supposed to help me with my problem, my problem that put everybody else ill at ease.
But I knew of one person who wasn’t forced to love me, but loved me anyway.
My family is forced to; it falls under the unconditional love clause for being a member of the family. And other relatives... well; it's all relative, isn't it? Besides, who really cares? The relationships that seem more, MORE, I don't know, just more, are the relationships that people form, because they were involved in the creation of it. It means putting effort into a relationship because you want to maintain it. Does that make sense?
In any case that brings me back to the one person who I'm sure loves me despite my problem that I couldn't help to fix. This person told me that he loves me, even if he didn't say so in words. I knew it in the way that he threw away the pills that I hate taking. I knew it in the way that he looked me in the eye and told me "It's not you that needs changing." I knew it in the way that whenever I cross a line, he tells me so, because he, unlike everybody else, isn't afraid to say what's on his mind. He somehow knew that it was exactly what I wanted, needed, wished I could do, too.
Sure, I said things without thinking; I normally say what's on my mind. But it's different from speaking your mind. That's what he does. It takes a lot to do what he does naturally. People have said that he could be an ass. People said that he could be cold. People said that he could be difficult. I never said and or thought any of those things about him, even now. And I think this was how I showed him that I love him.
I told him that I loved him too, but he didn’t understand this. He didn't understand how a person could love a person like him. This was the only thing about him that I found stupid. Not to say I didn't love that part of him as well. To tell you the truth, I thought it was kind of cute. But sometimes I would wonder: Did he not know himself? Did he not see himself? What was there to NOT love?
The thing though, there was not many people who could stand me. Spencer, he stands me, likes me too. He loves Ryan like a brother; so, some say that once you get passed that hurdle, doing anything else is cake. Zack loves me too, I think this is because he is so damn protective and thinks I'm such a fucking kid that it gives him more of an edge, it makes him feel more needed, which is a good thing because the band needs him. I need him. Shane, he's cool with me too. If Jon equals cool, then Shane equals cucumber. See what I did there? That's a simile disguised as a metaphor. Cool as a cucumber... Now, I know what you're thinking, in that simile cool means cool, like cold, and not cool like Shane, or Jon for that matter. But don't mess this up for me, okay? Now, Jon, he loves everybody. And everybody includes me. Got that?
And I'm not hating on Jon, I love the guy, but sometimes I wished that he wasn't himself. Sometimes I wished that Jon wasn't Jon.
Jon moved in with Ryan. Not in an everyday, permanent way. He was only to stay at Ryan's whenever he was in Vegas. It was a lot easier than making hotel reservations and the like. This way, 'he has a home away from home.' It was Ryan who said that. And that was one of those times when I wished Jon wasn't Jon because I love Jon, and he definitely deserves a "home away from home," but fuck, why did he get to have that with Ryan?
ccc
I brushed my hand through my hair before I rang the doorbell to Ryan's home--Ryan and Jon's home. I thought maybe I should have showered, I still smelled like sex. No, actually, I think I was fine the way I was, I smelled like sex.
Spencer opened the door, a taquito hanging in-between his lips. He pulled it from his mouth after he took a bite and closed the door. "Hey man, you're late."
"Hey. I didn't know to be early. No one told me. Where is everybody?"
Spencer nodded to the couch as he swallowed the rest of his taquito down. "Taking a break from moving things."
"He brought two suitcases, how much moving could that involve?" I rolled my eyes.
"A lot of moving when things from said suitcases don't match the decor of the house," Spencer said a little too loudly.
And I guess the tone served its purpose when I heard Ryan call out: "Not only does his shit NOT match, it’s just… ugly." Ryan wasn’t in my line of sight at that moment, but I didn’t need to see him to know that he had scrunched his nose in that way of his.
I also knew without seeing that Jon would be giving him that look of his. You know that look of his that’s a cross from ‘how dare you say such things’ and ‘I see what you did there,’ kind of looks. Yeah, that look. That all-knowing look was accompanied with a smirk. "Not match? This from the dude who coordinates flowers with stripes?" Jon had retorted.
I made my way to the living room where they were both sprawled on the love-seat. I saw no need for the both of them to be sharing the two-seater when there was a perfect, larger couch in the same room that was left unoccupied. That was until Spencer decided to plop down and splay himself across it.
So I sat on a squashy thing near the coffee table, feeling a bit awkward.
Ryan raised an eyebrow at me. I already knew what he was thinking. A second passed in silence. And he had let it go.
"So, Bren, did you know that Jon has a teddy bear named Bob?" Ryan said this as he looked over at Jon, who didn't even try to stop Ryan from divulging such a secret. And like all juicy secrets, I was all over it.
"No way! Why Bob, Jon? I wanna see it? Where is he?"
"My girlfriend gave it to me and what else would you call a bear? And I don't know where he is. Ryan hid him, along with all my other things.”
Ryan laughed. "Even Brenny Bear makes for a better name."
Jon chuckled. "Oh, and what name did you name your bear? And don't say you didn't have any bears, everyone had a teddy bear at some point."
Ryan narrowed his eyes and bit his lip as he took a moment to gather his thoughts. "No, I don't think I had any bears. There was this one time when I gave one to an old girlfriend as a gift. I stole it back though because…” He paused for another moment. “Well, actually, I guess you can say Bren is my bear." Ryan grinned as he looked at me and effectively, changed the subject in the process. "I'd name him something cool too, like… Peppy or Baby. Or Peppababy!" Ryan smiled now, looking like a kid who got his first teddy.
"Peppababy?" Jon rolled his eyes.
"I like it," I say and all eyes landed on me.
"Dude, not even Disney could think of a name so… so schmoopy," Jon said, laughing.
"You're just jealous that Ryan named me and hates your teddy's name." I said, and I think it came out a little too strongly. But it was too late anyway to take my words back.
"Yeah, yeah, I admit, I'm jealous." Jon placed a hand behind the chair, which actually meant putting his arm around Ryan's shoulders. "Hey Ross, what happened to the bear that you stole back?"
Ryan shrugged. "Beheaded it, ripped out its stuffing, that sort of thing. The head part came in handy; I used its button eyes to replace the buttons I lost on one of my shirts."
"Wow," Jon said. "I don't feel so jealous now. I hope you keep your eyes, Peppababy." Jon smiled as he stood up and stretched. "Who wants more taquitos?"
ccc
Two weeks later, I walked into Ryan and Jon's house. Jon was sitting on the couch. He motioned me over and patted his hand on the empty seat beside him, asking for me to sit.
So, I sat there, feeling like an idiot. I wondered if he really could hear the thoughts in my head. And if he heard the thoughts that were running through my head since the day he moved in with Ryan, I would have died. Because I did--DO love him. Fuck, what kind of friend am I?
"They're at it again." Jon said into my ear.
"What? Who?" I whispered back. But Jon didn't need to answer because then I hear it: shouting behind closed doors. It was time for a break-up between Ryan and his girlfriend. Again.
I sighed.
They did this all the time. And when I heard Ryan finally scream, "fine!" I distinctly remember the feeling of my own heart breaking. I wanted to take away the pain from Ryan’s voice. And I wanted to do things like murder when his girlfriend stormed out of the room, yelling, "You messed up, Ryan Ross! You don't deserve me!"
Ryan came out of the room and I watched him stare her down. "Well, in that case, maybe he DOES deserve you after all."
Ryan flinched when the front door slammed, but he walked back into his room like nothing even happened. His bedroom door clicked softly shut.
"Did you know about this?" Jon asked.
My first thought was, ‘how could you NOT know when you play to the man's lyrics practically every night.’ And then I realized what he was really asking. "No. No, not really, no."
Jon nodded. "Maybe he shouldn't be alone."
"He shouldn't be," I said.
"Well, what are you waiting for?"
"What do you mean?"
"It's obvious man. Go and get the fuck on with it. If you don't, then she, or someone like her, is going to find a way into his life. And I'm going to have to watch you break every time you sing his words."
Everything fell into place.
"How did you--"
"Know? Because I'm fucking Jon Walker."
"Hey, I'm sorry if I..."
"Forget it man, if I had me for competition, I'd be bitter too." Jon smiled.
"I wasn't bitter."
"Yeah Urie, you kind of were."
"I love you, Walker."
"I love you too." Jon laughed. "And just so you know, it sounds kind of lame when you use my last name."
"You don't say that when Spencer uses it."
"Yeah, but Spencer is Spencer and you, Brendon, are Brendon... And that's okay."
And that is why I love Jon Walker. He's totally cool.
ccc
I didn't say anything when I walked into Ryan's room.
I found him curled into a ball on his bed. His eyes were closed, but he wasn’t crying or anything. Not even sleeping, I could tell by his uneven breathing. He was just… there.
I joined him on his bed. His back was to my chest and I hugged him to me. I heard him let out a sound, a cross from a sigh and a choke. I felt his shoulders relax through the layers of our clothes and I listened to his breathing become steadier.
"Hey, Bren," he said, without even looking back. This made my heart swell because I realized that he didn't even need to look to know it was me who was there with him.
I raised my head and whispered into the crook of his shoulder and neck. "What is it?"
"You really are my bear, aren't you?"
"Always, Ry. Always."
"I won't rip off your head then," Ryan said against the pillow.
"Good, because I kind of like that it's attached to my neck. It makes living easier. And plus, I wouldn't be able to eat, I like being able to eat. That, and I wouldn't be able to sing, which would suck if I wasn't able to because then I wouldn't be of much use as lead singer in the band... would you guys kick me out?"
"Oh, I don't know about that," Ryan said as he turned around in my arms to face me. His hands went up, and I felt his fingers thread through my hair. His eyes searched mine and in that deep voice of his, he muttered: "you could always play the piano."
I was about to speak, but Ryan took my words away when he placed a finger to my lips.
"But then again, I wouldn’t be able to do this." And then he kissed me.
George Ryan Ross kissed me, and did you know that his initials spell out GRR?
AN: ‘unfortunateness’ is not a word. Brendon made it up because he can;)
