Life Goes On (S/A)
written in the midst of sadness and acceptance.
I need a life.
--
It’s been two years since they left.
Spencer and I are doing just fine, making music and living life.
We all live within an hour of each other, but we’re rarely in the same room.
Maybe a party or two where we’ll see each other; hey, how’s it goin’? New girlfriend? Sounds good, see you later.
They’re doing just fine, everything is just fine, and I’m happy.
I’m happy, I swear.
--
“Jonathan fucking Walker!” I shout. It’s another party at Pete’s house; the parties are always at Pete’s house. Jon smiles at me, drink in hand.
“Brendon, hey.” He smiles.
I grin and pull him into a hug. “Where’s Ryan?” I ask casually.
He gestures to a corner where Ryan is chatting up another nameless blonde girl. I nod, looking back to Jon.
“How’ve you been?” he asks, eyes scanning the room. “How’s Spence?”
“He’s good, we’re good. Working on new music, but when aren’t we?” I smile.
He nods. “We miss you guys, we’re always talking about it. We wanted to talk to you about maybe touring together sometime? Like we used to. It’ll be like old times,” he says awkwardly.
I smile and nod. “I’m down, but that’s not what we need to be talking about right now. This is a party, Jon, let’s have fun. We can save work for later,” I say, throwing an arm around his shoulder and taking a sip of his drink.
--
“Bren,” Jon says quietly after everything dies down.
I look over to him, head rolling to the side. “Yes?” I say. We’re sitting on Pete’s back porch, people mingling around us, paying no attention to whatever we’re saying.
“You have to get out,” Jon says quietly.
I raise an eyebrow at him. “Out of what?”
“This,” Jon says, arms gesturing wildly to everything around us. “All of this. You’re better than this, Bren. Better than the parties, and the drinking, and the fake friends. You’ve been doing this long enough, Bren. But you can still get out.”
I watch him carefully. “Why are you telling me this?”
“Nothing’s been the same, Bren. It’s been lonely. Ryan’s been going through girls like cartons of cigarettes, he’s changed. We’ve all changed. Except for you, and I want to save you,” he says, looking at me with fear in his eyes. “I want us to be friends again, Bren. I want everything to be just like before.”
“We can’t go back, Jon. Not after how you guys just left. I still love you guys, no doubt, but we can’t just go back.”
“But, Bren… I miss you guys. Ryan’s got his party friends; it’s too late for him… But we can still work everything out, Bren. You, me, and Spence, we can go back to being Panic. It could work, Bren. It has to work.”
I sigh, bringing my hand to my forehead and rubbing my eyes.
“Jon, it can’t work. It’s too late. Life goes on, Jon, within you and without you,” I whisper. It might be a low blow, using some of his favorite words against him, but I know it would get the point across. I look down at my lap, then back up at his distraught face. “I’m sorry,” I say quietly.
He just nods, and I can see the tears welling in his eyes.
“Yeah. Yeah… of course. I understand. I’ll uh-see you later, Bren,” he says quietly, getting to his feet. “We’ll talk about touring, yeah?”
I nod. “Of course, Jon. I’ll talk to you later,” I say, standing to hug him. I pull away and press my hands to his shoulders, looking him in the eye. “I love you, Jon Walker. And everything’s going to work out. It always does. Ryan knows what he’s doing; I know what I’m doing. If you ever need to talk, or get away, Spence and I are here. We miss you guys, too. We’re always going to be friends. Remember that, okay?”
He wipes a tear off of his cheek and nods. “Yeah. Okay,” he whispers, giving me a sad smile. I pull him into another hug, telling him that he’ll always be one of my best friends. He nods, tells me the same, and then he leaves.
Ryan is passed out in a corner, bottles littering his general area.
Spencer is playing one of Pete’s acoustic guitars, smiling as Bronx dances awkwardly in front of him.
I sigh, taking another drink from the bottle in my hand. This is our life now.
Nothing is ever going to be the same.
--
A/N:
we're all sad.
but we'll all survive.
gracias to meiloslyther for once again being an amazing beta, and getting this back to me reeeal quick!
i owe you two!
(things i owe you are going to start piling up soon.)
FEEDBACK?
I need a life.
--
It’s been two years since they left.
Spencer and I are doing just fine, making music and living life.
We all live within an hour of each other, but we’re rarely in the same room.
Maybe a party or two where we’ll see each other; hey, how’s it goin’? New girlfriend? Sounds good, see you later.
They’re doing just fine, everything is just fine, and I’m happy.
I’m happy, I swear.
--
“Jonathan fucking Walker!” I shout. It’s another party at Pete’s house; the parties are always at Pete’s house. Jon smiles at me, drink in hand.
“Brendon, hey.” He smiles.
I grin and pull him into a hug. “Where’s Ryan?” I ask casually.
He gestures to a corner where Ryan is chatting up another nameless blonde girl. I nod, looking back to Jon.
“How’ve you been?” he asks, eyes scanning the room. “How’s Spence?”
“He’s good, we’re good. Working on new music, but when aren’t we?” I smile.
He nods. “We miss you guys, we’re always talking about it. We wanted to talk to you about maybe touring together sometime? Like we used to. It’ll be like old times,” he says awkwardly.
I smile and nod. “I’m down, but that’s not what we need to be talking about right now. This is a party, Jon, let’s have fun. We can save work for later,” I say, throwing an arm around his shoulder and taking a sip of his drink.
--
“Bren,” Jon says quietly after everything dies down.
I look over to him, head rolling to the side. “Yes?” I say. We’re sitting on Pete’s back porch, people mingling around us, paying no attention to whatever we’re saying.
“You have to get out,” Jon says quietly.
I raise an eyebrow at him. “Out of what?”
“This,” Jon says, arms gesturing wildly to everything around us. “All of this. You’re better than this, Bren. Better than the parties, and the drinking, and the fake friends. You’ve been doing this long enough, Bren. But you can still get out.”
I watch him carefully. “Why are you telling me this?”
“Nothing’s been the same, Bren. It’s been lonely. Ryan’s been going through girls like cartons of cigarettes, he’s changed. We’ve all changed. Except for you, and I want to save you,” he says, looking at me with fear in his eyes. “I want us to be friends again, Bren. I want everything to be just like before.”
“We can’t go back, Jon. Not after how you guys just left. I still love you guys, no doubt, but we can’t just go back.”
“But, Bren… I miss you guys. Ryan’s got his party friends; it’s too late for him… But we can still work everything out, Bren. You, me, and Spence, we can go back to being Panic. It could work, Bren. It has to work.”
I sigh, bringing my hand to my forehead and rubbing my eyes.
“Jon, it can’t work. It’s too late. Life goes on, Jon, within you and without you,” I whisper. It might be a low blow, using some of his favorite words against him, but I know it would get the point across. I look down at my lap, then back up at his distraught face. “I’m sorry,” I say quietly.
He just nods, and I can see the tears welling in his eyes.
“Yeah. Yeah… of course. I understand. I’ll uh-see you later, Bren,” he says quietly, getting to his feet. “We’ll talk about touring, yeah?”
I nod. “Of course, Jon. I’ll talk to you later,” I say, standing to hug him. I pull away and press my hands to his shoulders, looking him in the eye. “I love you, Jon Walker. And everything’s going to work out. It always does. Ryan knows what he’s doing; I know what I’m doing. If you ever need to talk, or get away, Spence and I are here. We miss you guys, too. We’re always going to be friends. Remember that, okay?”
He wipes a tear off of his cheek and nods. “Yeah. Okay,” he whispers, giving me a sad smile. I pull him into another hug, telling him that he’ll always be one of my best friends. He nods, tells me the same, and then he leaves.
Ryan is passed out in a corner, bottles littering his general area.
Spencer is playing one of Pete’s acoustic guitars, smiling as Bronx dances awkwardly in front of him.
I sigh, taking another drink from the bottle in my hand. This is our life now.
Nothing is ever going to be the same.
--
A/N:
we're all sad.
but we'll all survive.
gracias to meiloslyther for once again being an amazing beta, and getting this back to me reeeal quick!
i owe you two!
(things i owe you are going to start piling up soon.)
FEEDBACK?