Turn In Time
Brendon had always been there for Ryan. Always there to catch him just in time so Ryan doesn't hit his fucked up head with the doors of Hell.
Brendon Urie had the charm any girl would want in their life and, not to mention, the perfect looks. The skinny tall figure (but not overly thin like Ryan saw himself as, it was unhealthy), the most beautiful smile and that stupid sense of humor that would make Ryan sometimes wonder whether Brendon was dropped to the floor and thrown roughly against a brick wall as a small baby. He also has those dark brown eyes that were always shining with excitement and his hyper mood that would sneak a smile out of Ryan occasionally or, most of the time, made Ryan hiss Brendon a harsh 'Shut up', refusing to let Brendon have another drop of Red Bull ever again.
Brendon knew everything about Ryan. About his mother's death, his dad's blame towards Ryan for his mother's passing, and the beatings Ryan got every time George Ross came back from the bar completely and utterly drunk.
Brendon was always there to hug Ryan when Ryan would climb through Brendon's window almost every night in order to escape reality, even if it were only for a small moment. Always there to calm Ryan as the boy sobbed and held onto Brendon as if his life depended on it.
Not that Ryan was clingy. Not at all. And either way, Ryan sometimes ignored Brendon in order to gain some space.
Brendon was like a child. He was always happy, whined when he didn't get what he wanted. He loved candy and all type of stuff full of sugar. Wished he was cool enough to drink his coffee black, but unable to force himself to give up on sweets. And he had no other friend other that Ryan.
Ryan has asked him one day while they watched Aladdin for the seventh time, "Hey, Bren. I know you could have plenty of other friends if you tried, why not want to be popular and have more friends than you can count on a hand?" Brendon had just turned around to face Ryan and gave him a toothy grin, his eyes giving that curious shine Ryan had grown used to, "Why the hell would I want any more rather than you?"
Ryan didn't ask again.
Returning back to the past subject, Brendon was like a small five year old boy who's eyes twinkled whenever he saw something exciting, like a shiny golden wrapper on the floor or something. Sadly, Ryan had never been the type of person who dealt with those types of people. He wasn't really a fan of immature individuals. Also, sadly, Brendon was an exception.
The thing is, Ryan and Brendon had absolutely nothing in common other than the fact they lived in the same city and attended the same school. Brendon was feverish and always grinning from ear to ear –or at least whenever he was with Ryan-, Ryan was moody and sarcastic. Brendon was happy, Ryan was miserable. Brendon loved animals, Ryan shrieked once when he found a dog at his feet in the street and was about to kick it before Brendon held the dog protectively. Brendon pouts, Ryan glares. Brendon doesn't believe in God, Ryan never knew what a God was. Brendon was light, Ryan was the dark.
To how they became best friends and Ryan took an unmistakable liking for Brendon Boyd will always be a mystery.
Ryan remembered the first time he met Brendon. He was leaning on his desk in English, glaring holes to his teacher's back when suddenly the door slammed open and a boy out of breath appeared in the doorway.
"I'm sorry I'm late, miss. I was having trouble in the office getting my books." He apologized, pushing his red rimmed glasses up him nose. Ryan stared and suddenly realized the only empty seat in the classroom was beside him. He mentally cursed.
Ryan was a goner once Brendon gave him his first smile. There was no turning back.
Suddenly, all passed as a blur. And Ryan found himself in his gown, after the ceremony, after knowing Brendon for two years and after officially graduating, Brendon was grinning beside him, arm slung carelessly around Ryan's shoulders just because he knows how much it irritates him. But Ryan was so lost in his own thoughts to even notice, only noting when Brendon left his side to receive proud pats on his back from his dad and tight hugs from his mom. Ryan never knew what it felt to make someone feel proud.
A bird's chirping on his window sill snapped Ryan back to reality, refusing to let thoughts of Brendon get better of him. It was weird, seeing a bird awake and singing at this hour. It was late and the sun was more than down, concealing the city in darkness. But Ryan didn't feel like sleeping, wait, no. Let him rephrase that. His eyes were dying to close, maybe just for a moment and he was full of fatigue but he couldn't sleep. He wouldn't let himself sleep. Every time he closed his eyes he would see a car speeding in the street towards an innocent 18 year old boy and the cold pavement on the floor surrounded by flowers and the greenest grass, a cross at the front with three simple words. Brendon Boyd Urie.
Ryan wouldn't sleep.
He left the small notebook on his lap, his lamp dim aside of him and his trembling fingers opened to the first page, staring at the messy writing.
September 28
Dear-hold on. No. I prefer to call this a journal. The last thing I need is to turn into a girl. I guess whoever reads this (because, come on. I know someone is bound to open this thing up, snooping around) wonders of why I'm starting this thing. It's not like if I have an anger management and need to write how my day went. I just decided to start this yesterday, you know, to read this in the future when I'm old and have my grandchildren running around. I decided to start this now because I just moved. My dad apparently got a better job in Summerlin and, so, here we are! I just started school today. It was… interesting. If that's the word, that is. Every girl kept asking me out and I've decided that girls here can't take the hint. But the best part of my day was English. I met this guy. His name's Ryan and he was my first friend. He doesn't talk much but that doesn't really matter. At lunch I was invited by a couple of people to sit in their table, which I suppose was the 'popular' crowd table. I don't really need any superficial friends. So I sat with Ryan.
He didn't say anything as I sat but he kept staring at me as he ate as if I was going to attack him or something. I tried talking to him but he didn't seem fond of me. I'm sure he doesn't hate me, though. He just needs to open up, I'm sure of it.
He was a bit rude to me though. He kept telling me to shut up and leave him alone. I didn't listen to him, of course. What was the fun in that? Nothing, I tell you, nothing.
And the fact that I'm pretty much pouring my heart for paper must worry me. But it doesn't.
Shit. My mom's calling for dinner. Tonight's my turn to set the table. (Am I supposed to say bye or something?)
xBrendon
Ryan breathed heavily and he opened further into the notebook to a random page, not wanting to knowledge the queasy feeling he felt and the sudden urge to throw his dinner back up into view.
May 5
Damn. A year has passed. How the hell am I supposed to react to that?! I'm not complaining though. I've lived a pretty well life. An awesome family, good grades in school and I've got the only friend I'll ever need, Ryan.
Today we're going camping. Actually, more like staying in sleeping bags on Ryan's backyard while his father's away for the next two days. I can't wait! I've got a whole bunch of things planned out for us to do. Like make smores, tell scary stories and maybe if I insist, I'll get Ryan to play his guitar for me. Maybe even sing if I get extra lucky. I doubt though. I've only heard Ryan sing once and that was only because I walked in on him. He threatened to kill me if I ever mentioned that time or even the song he was singing. I've begged Ryan to sing again millions of times since then and I'm still alive though, right? I know Ryan would never hurt me, just like I'd never hurt him. Cliché much? I'd do anything for Ryan.
He told me something shocking two days ago that I didn't want to put here yesterday. That I probably won't put here now either. It's not my story to tell, after all. I was in my room reading my favorite Simpson comic again (remember I mentioned it before?) at midnight when my parents were sleeping when I heard a knock at my window. I completely freaked out. I mean, who the hell knocks on my window? I'm on the second floor! But I opened up anyway (with my favorite baseball bat in my other hand. Safety.) and there was Ryan. Even in the moon's dim light I could see his rimmed red eyes and the tears streaming down his face. I immediately dragged him to my bed and he started crying again. I never thought I'd see Ryan cry. He was pretty tough.
He told me his story and why sometimes he'd wear long sleeves shirts to school even when there's a heat wave. He uses it to cover his bruises. I don't think it safe enough to put here where they come from because if someone reads this and tells someone else, Ryan would get mad and I don't like it when he ignores me when I've done something wro-
Ryan shut the notebook closed harshly and he closed his eyes as he leaned the back of his head against the headboard, clutching the last reminder he had of Brendon.
He heard the door open slowly and cautiously and turned to see Spencer's head poking through the doorway. Spencer grinned.
"Hey, Ryan. Pete's here to talk to you. Something about the record and a lyrics talk or something. Jon and I will be playing video games if you need anything." He said. Ryan nodded.
"Yeah, going. Tell Pete to just, like, hang on for a moment. And not to break anything while he's here." The older boy responded. Spencer gave a carefree laughed and beamed.
"No need to worry, Patrick's here too. I'm sure he'll keep Pete under control. Brent's making them coffee."
Ryan nodded slowly and Spencer rolled his eyes.
"Just hurry the fuck up, Ross. Pete gets impatient easily and we've got a whole CD to complete."
Ryan, being the front man which, naturally, gives him authority, glared at Spencer and told him to tell Pete to wait so they could talk lyrics. Spencer looked weary but complied, leaving Ryan back in his room.
Ryan stared at the notebook for a long while before shutting it under key in his drawer.
"GEORGE RYAN FUCKING ROSS! I DON'T CARE FUCKING CRAP IF YOU'RE THE LEAD VOCALIST! I'M GONNA MURDER YOU IF YOU DON'T COME OUT OF YOUR SHITHOLE AND-"
Pete's voice was abruptly halted by what Ryan guessed was Patrick's threat and he smiled at the picture of Brendon's grinning face on his desk. For all his band members and Decaydance Records members knew, the laughing 18 year old's picture in Ryan's room was just the random boy Ryan never talked about and no one dared to ask.
And if your heart stops beating
I'll be here wondering
Did you get what you deserve?
The ending of your life
