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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.

Please see the Terms of Service for more information.

 

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So You're Gone and I'm Haunted
By ConsiderYourselfBitten

 


A/N: If you like that song Almost Lover by A Fine Frenzy then you'll probably like this. It was something that came to me in a time of writers block, and oneshots always give me more motivation to write. Revue svp ! (French for: Review Please!)

_

Your fingertips across my skin
The palm trees swaying in the wind

I sighed, as you trailed your hands down my side, smiling that wonderfully brilliant smile of yours. You looked up, and I couldn't look away. Those stunning honey-brown eyes captured mine and held them there. Your breathing was soft and the wind played with your hair, sending it sputtering across your face. “I love you, Annabelle,” you said, leaning up to press your lips softly to mine.

“Ryan,” I whispered, “I love you, too.”

I snuggled closer to your chest and let the grass sway around us.

Goodbye, my almost lover
Goodbye, my hopeless dream

The roads are dark. I don't even want to think about you. But, I still do. It pains me. You left. No note. No explanation. I thought you loved me. I guess I need to stop assuming things. I don't drive that car anymore. I don't sleep in that bed anymore. I hardly live in that apartment anymore. Too many memories to remind me of what we had. What we could have been. But she came along.

I walk into the small bar, yes, the one we never went to. It's too small, you'd said, don't you want to have fun? I had fun. I don't think much about fun anymore. I don't think much about anything anymore. Other than you. It pains me to see you on television with her. It hurts to think of her smell on your sheets.

The lights are dim, smokes hangs in the air, whiskey is the predominant smell. I take a seat at the bar. My blue-black hair is tied in a messy ponytail and my toned legs are in dark wash skinny jeans, accentuating the small, but voluptuous bottom I have. I can still feel your hands holding me up.

My white tank top-clad torso sticks out in the dim light. Eyeliner rings my vibrant green eyes, making them seem almost cat-like. “Grey Goose, on the rocks,” I tell the bartender. He raises an eyebrow at me, and it's a gesture so familiar, from you, of course, that I want to run out of here screaming and crying, but I have more composure than that.

“Coming up,” he says, and then bends down to make my drink.

You sang me Spanish lullabies
The sweetest sadness in your eyes

The smell of your skin was always intoxicating. You never even had to get me drunk that first night, I just told you that you did. Your eyes. Your eyes were so sweet. They showed vulnurability, and it drew me into the depths of your soul. You told me that night, “I've traveled all over the world. You'd think it was amazing. Vous ?tes beau. That means You are beautiful, in French. In Spanish it's, Usted es hermoso, but I think it sounds better in French.” You laughed, and I smiled and blushed. Then you turned to me, angelic face serious, and said, “Suivez-moi, svp ?”

“I'm sorry,” I said, “I don't understand the question.”

Ah, ne faites pas vous.” You smiled.

“Tell me,” I said, “I'd really like to know what you're saying to sweet talk me now.”

Qui m'indique suis le bonbon vous parlant ?”

You held out your hand, I took it, not knowing what I was getting myself into.

(Translations: Suivez-moi, svp—Follow me, please; Ah, ne faites pas vous—Oh, don't you; Qui m'indique suis le bonbon vous parlant—Who says I'm sweet talking you)

I'm trying not to think about you
Can't you just let me be?

The next morning everything was amuck. I have the worst hangover in the world of hangovers. And my apartment is a mess. But that isn't what woke me. There's a soft tentative knock at my front door. I roll out of bed, not bothering to change out of my oversized t-shirt and pad to the door. I try to make my hair look somewhat presentable, but I fail at that, too. When I open the door, I think I must be dreaming. “Annabelle,” you say. I can't speak, I can barely breathe. You're standing there, bathing in the morning light. The sun hits your face just right, and I still didn't know if you knew it did that or not. It was always a trick of the eye that you could have possibly known about to take my breath away. “Annabell,” you repeat, “can I come in?”

I clear my throat and raise an eyebrow. “Back after all this time, Ross?”

“Anna, you're as beautiful as ever, and I know I screwed up, but just please, let me in so we can talk?”

I step aside so you can walk in. I know I shouldn't do it. But I still can't say no to you. Sarcastic remarks are just a way to hide how much pain you've caused me. I still love you, Ryan. I just can't say it. Not anymore.

We walked along a crowded street
You took my hand and danced with me

The streets were packed, buzzing with excitement. The festivities were abundant. I was smiling and you were smiling because my face was lit up with joy. “Come on,” you said, taking my hand and tugging me through the crowd. The cobblestone streets of the town square were dimly lit from little lanterns hanging on ropes following the sidewalk. Chatter came from all directions but all I heard was you. “Halloween is amazingly vibrant,” you told me, pulling me into the safe circle of your arms. Leaning down to put your lips near my ear, you said, “Your eyes are so endless in this light. Sin from thy lips? O trespass sweetly urged! Give me my sin again.” And then you kissed me softly as we twirled in the heart of the town.

So long, my luckless romance
My back is turned on you
Should've known you'd bring me heartache

You're sitting on the couch and I can't bear to look at you sit there, so I'm in the kitchen making me a bit of breakfast, consisting of painkillers and dry toast so if I heave it back up, it won't be as gross. “Anna, she's nothing, a little fling, you know I love you. I can't help but love you. You're amazing, it the very literal sense.”

I cough around my water and almost choke in the kitchen. “You can't be serious, Ryan, and please don't call me Anna, my name is Annabelle,” I say, and even to me, my voice sounds, harsh, displeased, and distant. Your footsteps echo as you walk across the hardwood floor in the living room to reach me in the tiled kitchen. “Annabelle,” you whisper softly, “I love you so much, why can't you see that?”

“Because, Ryan,” I say to myself, so quietly I don't know if you hear me, “you told her the same thing.”

And when you left, you kissed my lips
You told me you would never, never forget

“Tonight was wonderfully amazing,” you said quietly as you walked me home. You were such a clich? romancer. I loved it though. I nodded against your chest. “I'll be leaving to go on tour soon, you know that right?”

I didn't like to think about it, but I knew it. “Yeah,” I whispered.

“Don't forget me, Anna.”

“I won't.”

“I'll never be able to forget you, remember that.”

“I will.”

“Anna?”
“Hm?”

“I love you.”

“I love you, too, Ryan.”

Should've known you'd bring me heartache
Almost lovers always do

“Ryan, I don't want to love you anymore! Can't you see that?” My breathing is ragged and you can't look at me.

“Oh god, what did I do?” You ask yourself.

“You screwed up. You cheated on me. You still whispered me sweet nothings up until the day you left, and then cheated on me, again. I'll never forgive you for breaking my heart, Ryan. I was so indoubtedly in love with you. I still am, and it hurts,” I say softly, my voice at its most dangerous.

“Can I tell you something?”

“What,” I snap.

“I was going to ask you to marry me. To spend the rest of your life with me, not some other man, but you kicked me out that second time. I know I didn't deserve a second chance, but I didn't cheat on you twice,” you say. You take a step forward and raise your hands as if you're going to wrap me in your arms, but I shoot you a look and you let them drop back at your sides.

I wrap my arms around myself and try to digest what you just told me. “You didn't sleep with her again after you went on tour?”

“No.”

“How can I believe you?”

“She put it in the tabloids to hurt you because I told her I wasn't going to sleep with her, that I was in love with you, that I wanted to marry you.”

“I still love you, Ryan.”

“I know. I still love you, Annabelle.”
“It's Anna to you, RyRo.”

 

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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