literature

This Is Not Unrequited

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“I hate you,” the warm rush of air escaped my lips and before I knew it, the three dice left my hand and were hurled at his head. He barely managed to duck as they flew across the table and bounced off the wall behind him, clattering to the floor of the tour bus.

Jon sat back up and grinned, holding out his hand. “If you don’t have any cash on you, I’ll accept an IOU, only because you’re a friend. Or you could write a check, but I’ll need to see some ID.”

I tried to give him my best death-glare but was distracted by Spencer’s laugh from down near the floor. Both Jon and my heads turned towards him to see him on all fours under the table, chuckling.

“What’s so funny?” I asked, still annoyed by losing.

“The dice landed on one, one and one, Ry, now if you only rolled like that in the game…”

“Shut up,” I muttered, standing and stepping over Spencer’s ass to leave the front lounge. I passed the refrigerator, the front bathroom, the condos, and made my way to the back lounge where Brendon was on his laptop, headphones on, singing softly under his breath. The couch was pulled out all the way, making a makeshift bed, and I realized Brendon had probably woken up there.

I sat on his blankets and scooted back to sit by him. He looked at me and smiled in acknowledgement, turning off his IPOD and slipping off his headphones, but he kept at it on his laptop. I looked over his shoulders to see him exploring the wonderful wonders of MySpace.

“Read anything interesting?” I asked, leaning back to rest on my elbows.

“No, just Keltie’s latest blog. Have you read it?”

I snorted with disdain, “No. What did it say this time? Are we still in love, or are we over…again?”

Brendon chuckled, and went to one of his friend’s page, sending them a message. “It was hard to tell. I think that chick has been hanging out with you too much. She’s trying to be poetic, and deep and enigmatic.”

“Did she succeed?”

“She fell short,” he said, his fingers clicking away at his keyboard.

I watched him type for a minute before he spoke up again, looking over at me. “Why don’t you just end it already? Once and for all, deal the final blow. Otherwise she’ll keep bitching about you in her blog, make people think you cheat, and that you’re broken up, and back together, and broken up again… Why don’t you just dump her and make it official?”

I shrugged, laying back and picking up one of Brendon’s ugly dolls and holding it up over me while I inspected it.

“I don’t know… I guess you have a point though, I should…”

“Are you still screening her calls?”

I knew I probably looked guilty, because when I didn’t answer, he called me an asshole. “Just answer when she calls next time, ok, and just tell her it’s over. Screening her calls probably is just making it worse on her end, which is probably why she’s making all these nut-job entries…”

I smiled. “Yeah… You’re right. I’ll just end it, and this will all be over…”

“Did you lose at C-Lo again?” he suddenly asked.

“Yup…”

“How much this time?”

“Just a thousand…”

“You need to stop playing that game with Jon,” he laughed.

“You’re probably right about that, too…” I ended with a sigh, looking back at Brendon’s little doll before tossing it, and crossing my arms behind my head, starting at the ceiling of the bus. We bounced and were jostled around in the back, but it wasn’t so bad. I’ve gotten used to it.

--

I plugged my ears because I really just didn’t want to listen to Spencer talk to Brent. Brendon already had his headphones on, sitting at the table, eating a Crustable, and Jon was completely un-phased by this. I wish Brent and Spencer just stuck to emails. I mean, it’s not horrible and all, they don’t talk about anything that’s awful to hear, it’s just so completely awkward. Spencer’s forgiven him completely, but that’s the kind of guy he is… But Brendon and I, we probably just made it worse. Things probably could have been handled better, but I’ll admit we were immature about it all. And now we pay the consequences.

“Are you sure none of you want to say ‘hi’ to Brent?” Spencer asked, sitting down on the sofa by me.

My fingers failed to block out any real sound, so I put my hands down and shook my head. “No…“ I said softly, kicking up my legs onto the bench across the aisle and looked back at my laptop. Spencer sighed and said goodbye to Brent, then got up and headed towards the back lounge, probably to play Guitar Hero. I just hope he uses the wireless headphones we got, because that’s what they’re there for.

Pete signed off while I was distracted, but he left several messages that barely made sense, but were announcing that he had to go because Hemmingway shat everywhere. I closed the box and looked up at Brendon.

He really wasn’t doing anything but eating and listening to music. It was amazing that he could just sit there and stare at nothing sometimes without getting bored. He seems like the kind of guy who would have massive ADD, but he really has awesome concentration. Better than me at most times. I was fascinated by it. I could watch him for hours as he just sat there and sang under his breath, or worked on writing, or Googled random things to see what sort of pictures came up.

He was just so…so…

A new box popped up on the screen of my laptop, and before I could really stop myself, “Shit…” left my lips.

Brendon and Jon both looked at me. Apparently Brendon’s headphones weren’t so completely soundproof.

“Keltie just messaged me,” I explained a bit clumsily, and Brendon raised an eyebrow at me.

“Seriously, Ry, if you do it over the internet, you are a complete douchebag.”

Jon laughed, I sighed, and Brendon remained staring at me because he was dead serious.

I didn’t want to be a douchebg, and I didn’t really want to talk to her at all, but there wasn’t much I could do. There were only two ways this could really go; we chat calmly and say goodbye, or we get into some sort of stupid argument.

I had a feeling of what it was going to be from how the way she said, ‘ryan we need to talk.’

But Brendon was right, AIM was not the place for this talk, and I really, really didn’t want to be thought of the asshole who dumps his girlfriend over the internet, so I told her to call me. Then I signed off and close my laptop, setting it off to the side as if it would just magically open and Keltie would be there, ready to strangle me…

But then my phone went off and I slowly stood, feeling like a prisoner walking from their last meal to the electric chair, even though I was only walking to my bunk. I hoisted myself up, closed the curtain, encasing myself in the cool darkness. It wasn’t completely private since sounds carried relatively easy in the bus, but it was as private as it would get.

I pulled out my phone which was still going off, and I opened it, wincing slightly at the harsh light of its LCD screen. With a deep breath, I put the phone to my ear and said the words I wish I hadn’t said, “Hi, Keltie.”

I should have just hung up.

--

“You’re cheating on me, I know you are!” she exclaimed, her voice reaching pitches I didn’t know were possible to carry through a phone.

From when I said hi, to this moment, it had all been going downhill, and I know I was going to make it worse, somehow. I seem to always make things worse.

“Who on earth would I be cheating on you with? I’m on a bus of just guys, most of the crew is guys, and we don’t have time to pick up groupies, we’re too busy.”

“Brendon,” she said as if it was a completely sane response. I think I almost choked on my own spit.

“What the hell? Why Brendon?”

“He’s gay,” she said simply and I snorted instead of laughing out loud.

“Why on earth do you think he’s gay, Keltie?” I said skeptically, softer so know one else would be privy to my side of the conversation and become curious.

“He hasn’t dated anyone since Audrey, has he? No, he hasn’t, and they’re still really good friends, probably because he told her he was gay, and she couldn’t hold that kind of thing against him.”

“Maybe the break up was just mutual,” I sighed, laying down and stretching my legs out to the top of my condo, touching the pads of my toes against the strange fabric. “It doesn’t mean he’s gay and that I’m having an affair with him.”

“Don’t play stupid, Ross, I’ve seen you two together. I’ve seen your wild stage antics of you two kissing, and mimicking blow jobs and gyrating. And I’ve seen the interviews where you two are cozy, and touching each other, and-“

Really, I couldn’t take it anymore. These insane accusations were just too much. Really, Brendon and I? I know people joked, but seriously, it was just impossible. We were just friends, really good friends, best friends. It was so silly, so ludicrous… so… so…

Plausible. I could see how some people could take our friendship the wrong way, but…

“Fine, Keltie, you caught us,” I said in a dry voice, my annoyance getting carried away with itself. “I was cheating on you with Brendon. We’re totally hot for each other, sorry. I guess that mean’s we’re over.”

I could almost hear her mouth drop wide open in astonishment, left completely speechless.

“Bye, Keltie.”

--

I haven’t left my bunk since my phone call with Keltie. It had to be close to some sort of meal time because my stomach was eating itself, and I had no idea where we were, but I was sure we were surrounded by fields and nothing because we were probably still in the Midwest and heading west, like the pioneers.

I couldn’t stop thinking about what Keltie said. Brendon and me? When she had first suggested it, it just seemed so completely ridiculous that my first reaction was to laugh, but now it was like she had revealed something that was hidden from even myself.

I always told myself I loved Brendon as a friend, but he’s the one I want to share everything with. When I finish writing something, anything, he’s the one I show it to first, because his opinions matter the most to me. If he said he hates it, I’m crushed, if he loves it, I’m elated. I want him to approve of me, and what I do, I watch him whenever I can, I take his suggestions to heart and try to do better by what he says…

My hand has ached to hold his, and even on occasion, we had, but played it off as us just being dorks.

My heart raced whenever we shared the same mic, and it hung in my throat during our provocative stage antics. Every time the audience screamed when our faces got close, I was screaming along with them.

I’ve never got a raging hard-on from looking at him, but my heart has twisted in my chest and my stomach has been turned inside out. I’ve never fantasized about being bedfellows, but I’ve woken up crying when my dreams have taken him away from me and I was convinced they were real. I couldn’t imagine my life without him. My life would be empty without him.

Fuck.

Was I in love with Brendon Boyd Urie?

How did I not notice it before? Was I completely blind to my own feelings that I was never able to tell that I was love with my best friend? And it obviously wasn’t just a simple case of lust or confusion. This was so much more, so much bigger than me that my stomach was sinking low into my abdomen and I wasn’t so hungry anymore.

There was a hard sound of something knocking on the outside of my bunk, and I was so startled that I sat upright, glad that these bunks were larger than the old ones or I’d be suffering an awful concussion.

“Ryan? Are you hungry? We’re thinking about having the bus stop at a diner,” Brendon’s voice filtered through my curtain and I pulled it open, looking at him, my heart thudding loudly in my ears as if from one look, Brendon would be able to read my every thought and leave me humiliated.

“Yeah, sure, I can eat,” I lied to keep suspicion off me.

“How did it go with Keltie?” he asked, climbing up into my bunk and sitting next to me, picking up one of my pillows and holding it. I just know it would smell like him tonight; would that just torture me more?

“I let her think what she wanted to think,” I said, leaning against the wall, my head next to my bed light. “It’s over.”

He gave me a small smile. “Are you ok, then?”

I nodded. Sure. I was ok. I was as ok as I could be after the coma-inducing epiphany I had.

But, hey, I could only get used to it.

--

The past few weeks have been hell on me. I could hardly eat, I could hardly do anything right. It was a miracle that I didn’t completely fumble over the chords during our sets and ruin everything. I was barely getting by. I had almost wrote ‘Ryan Ross loves Brendon Urie’ when signing things for fans about ten times every night. It was intolerable.

Of course, when the others noticed, Brendon was chosen to be the one to talk to me about what was wrong. At one point, it would have been Spencer, but enough time has gone by to realize there was a bond between me and Brendon that not even a whole-life friendship could beat.

Only a few rows of beaded sweat glistened on my forehead and a cool towel remedied that quickly. My stage clothes didn’t smell fresh, but they were better off than the rest of the band’s outfits. Mine smelled like a hint of flowery deodorant, and the slight musk of having been worn a hundreds of times without being washed; everyone else smelled faintly like BO and dried sweat. No amount of deodorant would fix that.

I looked up from drying the back of my neck to see Brendon standing in front of me, leaning against the doorframe with a curious look on his face. His face had a sheen of sweat on it, his neck glistened and my eyes were following every droplet as it slid down the collar of his shirt.

“It’s getting hotter,” he said and I nodded, lifting my towel to pat his face dry. When the white cotton was moved, his face was holding a wide smile, amused by my actions.

“So, Ry, what’s been bothering you? Don’t try and deny anything now, we’ve all noticed it, and you’ve been like this since you broke up with Keltie. Does it have to do with that?”

God, he knew me so well, but there was so much he still didn’t know.

“Yeah, something like that,” I said softly, and he crossed the space to me, pulling me into a hug.

He didn’t stink. His neck and shoulder smelt like him, comforting, a little wet, unexplainable.

“Aw, Ryan, you did the right thing, don’t bum yourself out about this. You didn’t love her, did you?”

I shook my head.

“See, then,” he said, rubbing my back slightly. I wish he didn’t do that.

“No, Bren…” I mumbled softly, pulling away only to realize now our faces seemed to be inches apart. “It’s not that…”

“Then what is it?” he asked, seeming un-phased by how close our lips were.

How could I resist? I couldn’t stop myself, I’m horrible around temptation. It felt like an accident, but it felt so right when our lips touched shyly at first, then gradually growing into a triumphant hurricane of sensations that just screamed out that this was how things were supposed to be. His tongue met mine, our lips swelled together, his arms were around my neck, mine slid around his waist, and our exhausted bodies met together.

I didn’t want it to end, but a loud noise from the hallway caused him to jump back, staring at me with wide eyes.

“Ryan…no,” he said in a shaky voice.

“Brendon, I love you,” was all I could say, desperate to get it off my chest, aching for him to share this burden with me and make it something that wasn’t painful.

The look he gave me was so full of pain that it was heartbreaking. I couldn’t understand what was wrong, he kissed back.

“I love you, too,” he said, sounding defeated. “But… you were never supposed to love me back.”

“What? Why not?” I asked, confusion splayed out across my face, unable to understand why.

“Ryan, don’t be stupid. You’re not naïve, I know that. We could never be anything more than friends, you know it, I know it. Stupid shit happens when people are in relationships. If we fought, if something happened, it would all be over. I couldn’t do anything like that to Jon or Spencer, or the band. This is too much, this is more than us.”

“Brendon…” I said, his name falling from my lips like someone taking that final step off the Grand Canyon into the rocks and river below.

“No,” he said, his voice final, and he turned and left me alone, staring after him like a puppy who had just been abandoned in a box by the side of the highway.

How could he say that? I love him, he loves me, that means things would work, they would just fall into place. This was not unrequited love, this would work. It could work, it could work, it could work…

I wanted it so badly to work.
A Ryden fic. I can't help it. They just seem to work so well together. xD

I was totally listening to some Gnarls Barkley during some of this.

I think for me, I like slashes like this because I'd rather see these guys with each other than some skanky ho. Lol.

Plus, I love gay guys, so... I'm a faghag, leave me alone. >:[

Story©Me
Panic©Themselves

Second part here: Goddamnit, I Love You
© 2008 - 2024 yeslek
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QQI25's avatar
This is awesome!!!!!! I love it!!