Title: Inked
Rating: NC-17
Pairing: Ryden Fic. Brendon Urie/Ryan Ross.
Summary: In a world where everyone's soulmate appears written somewhere on their body at the age of 18, Brendon Urie finds out the name on his wrist just might be his new bandmate, Ryan Ross. Even if it is indeed him, will he accept him? Are soul mates supposed to happen this way? Ryan isn't so sure.
Author: dizzyupthegirl13 (rydeninkfic)
Beta: afangirlontherun (she's the best)
Chapter 1
Inked
Brendon's arm itched. It felt like little bee stings and he instantly knew what was happening. He rolled over in bed; now aware he was sweating and turned the lamp on. The light lit up the room and he scratched at his arm. This was it. There was no going back. Years of waiting and wondering were finally coming to an end. He was about to find out who his soul mate was. This strange feeling woke him up from a dead sleep; a buzzing in his veins and warmth growing down his left arm. The warmth turned into an intense itch as the black ink seeped through the thin skin of his wrist. He rubbed harder and harder, trying to relieve the pain. Slowly, one letter at a time, the name "Ryan" appeared delicately on his left wrist. Oh.
This was it. This was the day Brendon would finally join a band. Well, he had to audition first, but word has it they haven't had any luck finding a singer yet and they were pretty desperate. Spencer approached him in Algebra a week ago telling him about the auditions for a band he and his friend were starting. It wasn't a big deal, just a new garage band sprouting up in Vegas, nothing new. Brendon was just flattered to even be considered. He rolled his shoulders and let out a deep breath. He fiddled with the leather cuff around the name on his wrist, a nervous habit he developed over the years. He knew it was silly, but it made him feel closer to his soul mate, even though he had no clue who they were. He pressed the doorbell and then worried if he had the right house. The door opened and Spencer stood on the other side.
"Man, I'm so glad you're here. We haven't seen anybody worth a shit all day," Spencer led him through the house and down a hallway.
"I hope I don't disappoint then," Brendon said.
Spencer opened the door in front of them and ushered Brendon into a garage. A drum set was set up next to a mic stand and a boy stood near the other mic stand with a guitar in his hands. Brendon's breath hitched. His heart started to beat faster; he shouldn't be so nervous. It wouldn't be the end of the world if they rejected him. He could just join another one of the many Vegas garage bands. He could even start his own.
"Hey, this is the newbie," Spencer said.
The boy looked at him disinterestedly and nodded his head, going back to his guitar. Brendon cautiously stepped up to the mic stand. Spencer sat down at the drum set.
"Okay, can you sing the piece I gave you?" Spencer said.
Brendon couldn't quite find his voice yet so he nodded and grabbed the mic. He closed his eyes and tried to find his center. Things felt right. This is what Brendon knew how to do better than anything. He took a deep breath as the music began to play, calming himself. Even though his heart continued to beat rapidly, he was ready when it was his turn to come in. He sang the lyrics to the right melody and threw his own spin to the song for good measure. When the song ended, he came back down to earth and he looked over at Spencer, whose face was in awe. Or it looked like it might be. Brendon glanced over to the other guy. He looked a little shaken up. He and Spencer had a silent conversation, exchanging pointed looks. Brendon tried to interpret them but it was no use, they clearly had their own language.
"Dude, I think you're in, man," Spencer stood up and stuck his hand out for Brendon to shake, "Welcome to the band!"
Brendon shook Spencer's hand and fist-pumped. He looked over at the other guy and reached out to shake his hand. He didn't need to but he kind of just wanted to touch him. He needed to interact with this boy who wouldn't talk to him and he needed to feel his skin on a strangely powerful subconscious level.
"I'm Ryan," the boy said, shaking Brendon's hand.
Brendon's heart stopped. He was now acutely aware of the name under his leather cuff and it might have just been in his head, but he swore it tingled a little. His mouth fell open and time slowed down. Time slowing down always seemed like a cheesy cliché, but he swears to god time actually crept slower. Ryan. The Ryan? There are other Ryans. Ryan should have been a girl's name. That's what his mother said. What does she know anyway? This is a much nicer surprise.
"I'm Brendon."
The way Ryan's eyes grew would have been comical except this moment was anything but funny. His response has to mean something, right? If the name written on his body were something other than Brendon he wouldn't have looked so terrified. At the risk of sounding redundant, this moment felt momentous. It also felt terrifying.