Title: I Will Come Back to Life
Title: I Will Come Back to Life (but only for you)
Pairing Ryden
Rating PG-13
POV 3rd (Brendon's perspective, though
Word count 875
Summary: Brendon writes "The Calendar"
A/N: I'm not sure if anyone will even read it, but I just wanted to get it out *u* This is how I imagine Brendon writing ~the song
--
His fingers trembled around his grip on his blue ball point pen and he tried to swallow the thick lump in his throat, concentrating on letting the words flow out right. They were spilling out so fast he could hardly make sense of them and he knew it would need a lot of editing, but he just had to get it out.
They say if you don’t let it out it’s gonna eat you away…
He could hardly see in the dim light and he blinked back the threatening tears furiously, feeling the sobs coming on, starting to wrack in his chest. Sarah was asleep in the other room and he just hoped that she didn’t wake up and come out and see him like this. He’d kept all of this in for so long and it felt like it was going to tear him apart. He was falling apart, and he didn’t want anyone to see it.
He’d always hated that. He’d hated being weak, being vulnerable. When he was younger no one ever saw him when he was down. He hated it, hated the feeling, hated the hate. He just wanted to love, he wanted to be happy.
There were few people who ever saw him fall apart but there was only one who he thought had ever understood.
The first time it had happened he had just looked at him with a blank expression and Brendon thought he might have just walked away. Anyone else would have asked endless questions, wrapped him up in a hug and embarrassed him with their sympathy.
But not him - no, he had been through enough of his own to know better.
Instead, he grabbed a pen and paper and sat down beside him, patting his shoulder.
“It’ll help,” he said.
Brendon had been confused when he walked away but then he remembered a conversation they’d had a while back when Ryan had explained that’s how he’d coped all through his teenage years with his father’s problems. He’d written - it was his vent. Hell, that was their whole first album.
So Brendon had written… and written and written. And it got it all out and he felt so liberated and free.
He managed to sleep through the night at least and in the morning when Brendon was at the table eating his cereal with Spencer, Ryan had come in and pressed a soft kiss to the side of his head when Spencer wasn’t looking.
It was those little things that made Brendon…
God, it hurt to think about.
The last time he had felt so much better after getting it all out but he didn’t feel better at all as he scribbled out those final lyrics. He hadn’t been able to blink back the tears and they were dribbling down his cheeks, splashing like paint against the page, making the ink run. He was a mess and he tried to choke down his sobs but it just hurt so fucking much. He should be over it by now. They left him months ago.
But they still left. They were gone, they hadn’t spoken in so long and it would never be the same. Even after all that had happened with him and Ryan, Brendon never thought he would leave.
The wounds were so deep Brendon wondered if they would ever really fully heal.
Those first couple of weeks had been awful. He had refused to speak to anyone and drunk away his sorrows until night passed into morn and then he’d pass out and repeat the process. When he moved in with Sarah things got better. She helped him get better. He loved her, he really did.
But you can love two people at once, he really did believe that. Because you never love two people the same.
And he would never love anyone the way he - god, the way he still did - love Ryan.
He knew if he wasn’t going to stop crying any time soon and he really didn’t want Sarah to find him like this. She’d put up with enough of his crap and as sweet as she was, as hard as she tried, she would never understand.
So he stuffed his notebook in his pocket and grabbed his keys.
It was four AM when he knocked on Spencer’s door, but somehow, he didn’t even look surprised to see him. He just sighed at Brendon’s disheveled appearance and frowned as Brendon handed him the open notebook to where he had written.
“I wrote a song,” Brendon managed, sniffling. “I thought you might want to see it.”
Spencer’s blue eyes scanned the page quickly and his face softened with every word, his eyes looking a bit damp by the end of it. He exhaled, whispering a gentle, “Oh Brendon…” and that was all it took for Brendon to fall in his arms, their strong warmth not even enough to hold together his trembling frame.
He was falling apart, and he was to blame.
But just as much, Brendon believed he blamed himself.
Spencer had told him all those years ago not to fall for him, but he fucking did anyway.
(Most days it felt like he still hadn’t quite hit the ground yet).
Pairing Ryden
Rating PG-13
POV 3rd (Brendon's perspective, though
Word count 875
Summary: Brendon writes "The Calendar"
A/N: I'm not sure if anyone will even read it, but I just wanted to get it out *u* This is how I imagine Brendon writing ~the song
--
His fingers trembled around his grip on his blue ball point pen and he tried to swallow the thick lump in his throat, concentrating on letting the words flow out right. They were spilling out so fast he could hardly make sense of them and he knew it would need a lot of editing, but he just had to get it out.
They say if you don’t let it out it’s gonna eat you away…
He could hardly see in the dim light and he blinked back the threatening tears furiously, feeling the sobs coming on, starting to wrack in his chest. Sarah was asleep in the other room and he just hoped that she didn’t wake up and come out and see him like this. He’d kept all of this in for so long and it felt like it was going to tear him apart. He was falling apart, and he didn’t want anyone to see it.
He’d always hated that. He’d hated being weak, being vulnerable. When he was younger no one ever saw him when he was down. He hated it, hated the feeling, hated the hate. He just wanted to love, he wanted to be happy.
There were few people who ever saw him fall apart but there was only one who he thought had ever understood.
The first time it had happened he had just looked at him with a blank expression and Brendon thought he might have just walked away. Anyone else would have asked endless questions, wrapped him up in a hug and embarrassed him with their sympathy.
But not him - no, he had been through enough of his own to know better.
Instead, he grabbed a pen and paper and sat down beside him, patting his shoulder.
“It’ll help,” he said.
Brendon had been confused when he walked away but then he remembered a conversation they’d had a while back when Ryan had explained that’s how he’d coped all through his teenage years with his father’s problems. He’d written - it was his vent. Hell, that was their whole first album.
So Brendon had written… and written and written. And it got it all out and he felt so liberated and free.
He managed to sleep through the night at least and in the morning when Brendon was at the table eating his cereal with Spencer, Ryan had come in and pressed a soft kiss to the side of his head when Spencer wasn’t looking.
It was those little things that made Brendon…
God, it hurt to think about.
The last time he had felt so much better after getting it all out but he didn’t feel better at all as he scribbled out those final lyrics. He hadn’t been able to blink back the tears and they were dribbling down his cheeks, splashing like paint against the page, making the ink run. He was a mess and he tried to choke down his sobs but it just hurt so fucking much. He should be over it by now. They left him months ago.
But they still left. They were gone, they hadn’t spoken in so long and it would never be the same. Even after all that had happened with him and Ryan, Brendon never thought he would leave.
The wounds were so deep Brendon wondered if they would ever really fully heal.
Those first couple of weeks had been awful. He had refused to speak to anyone and drunk away his sorrows until night passed into morn and then he’d pass out and repeat the process. When he moved in with Sarah things got better. She helped him get better. He loved her, he really did.
But you can love two people at once, he really did believe that. Because you never love two people the same.
And he would never love anyone the way he - god, the way he still did - love Ryan.
He knew if he wasn’t going to stop crying any time soon and he really didn’t want Sarah to find him like this. She’d put up with enough of his crap and as sweet as she was, as hard as she tried, she would never understand.
So he stuffed his notebook in his pocket and grabbed his keys.
It was four AM when he knocked on Spencer’s door, but somehow, he didn’t even look surprised to see him. He just sighed at Brendon’s disheveled appearance and frowned as Brendon handed him the open notebook to where he had written.
“I wrote a song,” Brendon managed, sniffling. “I thought you might want to see it.”
Spencer’s blue eyes scanned the page quickly and his face softened with every word, his eyes looking a bit damp by the end of it. He exhaled, whispering a gentle, “Oh Brendon…” and that was all it took for Brendon to fall in his arms, their strong warmth not even enough to hold together his trembling frame.
He was falling apart, and he was to blame.
But just as much, Brendon believed he blamed himself.
Spencer had told him all those years ago not to fall for him, but he fucking did anyway.
(Most days it felt like he still hadn’t quite hit the ground yet).