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Musicians/Music Groups Fan Fiction >> Panic! At The Disco

The following is a work of fiction. Any statements regarding any person, place, or other entity (real or imaginary) is the sole responibility of the author of this work of fiction. Fan Works Inc. takes no responsibility for the content of user submitted stories. All stories based on real people are works of fiction and do not necessarily reflect on the nature of the individuals featured. All stories based on other copyrighted works are written with authors knowing that these works violate copyright laws.

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Never In Tune
By blasphemy

 

How can such small simple things be similar?

How can religions and holiday celebrations be represented in such ways but be full of contrast? How can opposites attract? How can these small differences play such a big roll? Like words and actions. Salutes in comparison to the <u>Heil Hitler</u>; synonym to cinnamon!

This question tears down his mind and suffocates his conscience. He is the boy next to the window. He is the boy with dark hair and dark eyes. He never smiles and he walks with his shoulders slumped.

The peculiar thing bout him though is that he used to smile, his eyes once were sharp and bright, his hair was light and silky. The stars once shined for him, the sun rose only to illuminate his soul. He was <u>joy</u>. He was <i>hope</i>. He is Ryan Ross and he no longer smiles.

The world outside the window that he watches is all knowing but dangerously secretive. He wants to reveal every secret the world has hidden. He wants to fly, to soar beyond the skies and live freely. <b>However</b>, he cannot. The antithesis has got him trapped. The synthetic. The surreal.

Ryan Ross has never asked for anything in this lifetime but freedom. However, he is willing to put that all aside if he receives answers. He wants to know just as much as he needs to breath. Why do opposites attract? Why does he have to be attracted to his antagonist?

His antonym. His walking contradiction; everything Ryan wants because he is everything Ryan is not.

Answers. You ask questions you get answers. It seems so simple, does it not?

Alas, he has not asked questions. So naturally, this boy with no smile, he will certainly not receive answers.

Lost in his inquiries, he stays, trapped in his head and broken thoughts. Days like these are not only endless but also ample in supply. The window he watches...

"Ryan!" the educator up front calls for the third time.

The disturbance sent Ryan plummeting from his thought and he glances around the room to everyone watching him... "Huh?"

"Well, since you're paying such great attention, what's the answer to the problem on the board?"

Ryan looks around the room, frantically searching for an answer. Of course, Spencer Smith and his electric eyes perk up at this. He leads his vision to the black board, viciously skimming the problem, prying at it for an answer. However, his attempts are useless when across the room; he hears the pitifully low voice of his best friend mutter, "I don't know."

The teacher frowned at him sarcastically, then addressed the classroom once more, "Who can?"

Unfortunately for her, the bell rings darkly and the students stand and exit rapidly. Ryan takes his time, figuring he has not to excite to site next to his denied desire for half and end up dubbed as "anorexic" by his acquaintances.

Spencer's set of footsteps were those that approached him. They are low and slumped just like his best friends. Ryan looks up at him and sighs a bit. Spencer says nothing and they exit the classroom. A short trip to their lockers and they set off to the cafeteria. At sight, Brendon approaches and throws his arm around Ryan's shoulder, "Hey, how was Algebra?"

"Usual," Spencer replied for him when Ryan meekly shrugged.

Instead of taking his usual seat next to Brendon, Ryan drifts to the opposite end of the table with Brent and Jacob. "Hey man, wuss up?"

Ryan shrugged again and brought out a sharpie from his pocket. "Lemme finish your shoes."

Jacob nods and lifts his foot into Ryan's lap. "Oh dude, I wanted to tell you, put some vines on the side 'cause it would look <b>way</b> cooler."

Ryan shrugs, uncapping the pen and mumbling, "Whatever," and commenced with the task. In the process of wrapping himself in ponder; he did not notice that Brendon was watching him from behind. When the bell rang, Ryan capped the pen and shoved Jacob's foot away, calling Brendon's name.

"Yes?" Brendon says in his ear.

Ryan jumped, surprised to find the boy standing next to him, now. "Oh, there you are. Let's ditch next period."

The question surprised Brendon but he was not hesitant with a response. "Okay, where do you want to go?"

"No where in particular, let's just stay in the bathroom," they started towards their lockers.

Minutes passed and by the time they had locked the bathroom door, the bell had rung. Ryan threw a couple things he need for 9-11th period on a dry sink and sat on the floor, resting his head on the cool wall tile. His thoughts began to wander when Brendon cut in, "You look distracted, Ry; as if you haven't slept well in years."

Ryan half-heartedly glanced at the other boy but frowned deeper still. "Well I haven't really..."

Brendon turned on the faucet on one of the sinks and splashed cold water onto his glorious skin. His brown eyes fluttered shut as long thick lashes braced his cheeks. A drop of the water clung to a strand of fringe by his ear. Ryan frowned at the impulse to jump his bones. Ryan sighed into himself and dragged his knees up into his chest.

Soon, he felt warm arms slide over his shoulders, invitingly into comfort. When the smile less boy looked up, he cocked a thin, dark eyebrow at why Brendon was holding him like this. "...what are you doing, Bren?"

Using the pet name was quite a bad idea. That only provoked the doe-eyed boy to pull Ryan closer. "I don't know, really, I just felt like I had to do this..."

His heart sped at the cunning smile that spread across the other boys' features. Ryan bet himself twenty dollars that Brendon could make the world shine brighter than the noon high if he tried. His thoughts scrambled as Brendon leaned further into him, pressing their foreheads together softly. "Ryan, have you ever wanted to fly...?"

Choosing to be stubborn and refuse disclosure, Ryan replied, "There's such a thing as airplanes, Bren."

Brendon sighed, explicitly disappointed. "No, that's not what I mean, just forget it."

Irony lashes out of his tongue in poison darts when he says, "No questions, no answers, B."

Brendon sighs, "Like feel the wind biting at your skin and pushing though your hair... just free... away..."

"<i>Gone for the sake of not being here</i>?" Ryan says quietly.

Brendon grins, "Exactly! Like..." he sighed at loss for words, "Like..."

The quirky ponder in Brendon's eyes made him do it. The crinkle in his forehead and the drop of water under his ear made him do it. Ryan had felt the desire build up again, against his raging heart. The courage that sided with the realization of a perfect moment sprouted in the atmosphere made him do it.

Finally, <u><i><b>finally</b></i></u>, he jolted forward and immediately strung his fingers in Brendon's hair. Pulling their bodies closer, he caught Brendon's plush lips harshly in his own. Brendon groaned in surprise but relaxed into the kiss and returned the gesture.

The world was fading, both hearts soaring beyond sky and space in excitement and happiness. Words could not explain the relief that flourished through his display of affection.

Affection... (nothing like affliction.)

Their lips parted slowly, the flesh dispersing at ease. "Like that," Brendon breathes finishing his sentence.

There is was that the boy trapped in his own head, the boy with lighting eyes and no smile, the boy dubbed Ryan Ross, <i>he smiled for the first time in three years.</i>

 

The preceeding was a work of fiction. Any statements regarding any person, place, or other entity (real or imaginary) is the sole responibility of the author of this work of fiction. Fan Works Inc. takes no responsibility for the content of user submitted stories. All stories based on real people are works of fiction and do not necessarily reflect on the nature of the individuals featured. All stories based on other copyrighted works are written with authors knowing that these works violate copyright laws.

Please see the Terms of Service for more information.

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