Fic: You're a Regular Decorated Emergency - Chapter 9
Rating: NC-17
Pairings: Ryan/Brendon
POV: First (Brendon's)
Summary: They were the outcasts of their school. The list started out as something innocent. Then Ryan wanted to get revenge in the only way he knew possible and he's dragging Brendon along for the ride.
Author's Note: Loosely based on the book Hate List by Jennifer Brown. (By loosely, I do mean very loosely. Also going to include a trigger warning in general right now (Self harm, alcoholism, bullying, violence, and several other things that may arise.)) Basically, don't read if you're going to be easily affected.
Disclaimer: Complete work of fiction. I don't own the characters. I'm only responsible for the plot line.
I stare at the open notebook in front of me, pouring over the various names, some in my own handwriting, some in Ryan’s.
“Alright,” I say glancing between two different pages. “I think that Ryan will probably plan to do this either in the morning during zero hour when everyone is in the cafeteria/hallway area, or during the break between the two lunch sections.” I look up at Spencer sitting on the couch with his knees pulled up to his chest. His attention is focused on Jon who is hanging upside down on the couch. I sigh, thinking he hadn’t heard a damn thing I’d been saying. Thankfully he seems to have been listening though, as he gives a thoughtful nod before directing his attention back to me.
“I’d wager more on zero hour. I doubt he’d be able to hold off all day to do it in the afternoon. Besides, it’d be harder to hide a gun that long. Knowing Ryan, he’ll wanna do it as soon as possible.” I watch as Spencer puts his head on his knees, letting out a deep sigh. Jon reaches out and grabs the notebook off the floor in front of me, flipping it upside down so he can read it.
“There are a lot of fucking names on here,” he says, flipping through the various pages. “Why the fuck are some of these names even on here? What the hell did Zoe Peterson, Ayanna Miller or Cassie Fox ever do to Ryan? They never even talk to anyone!” I offer a shrug and focus on a loose thread on the hem of my jeans. Jon sighs and throws the notebook back to me. “This is ridiculous,” he huffs out. “How does he think he can kill all those people before getting caught?”
I groan and lean backwards until I’m lying down and looking at the ceiling. I rub a hand over my eyes. How the fuck were we even going to do this? If Ryan was going to have a gun, how were we going to stop him? Would Ryan really stop for us, or would he just shoot us and continue on with his plan? Ryan wouldn’t shoot me or his best friends, would he?
As if reading my mind, Spencer lifts his head off his knees and speaks up. “You think Ryan’s added me and Jon to the list yet?”
Jon pipes up, “Well he couldn’t have added us to the list. The list is right in front of us.” He points at the list and Spencer picks up a pillow, smacking him with it.
“You vagina! I meant if he’s gonna come after us as well. I doubt he’s going directly off the list now anyways. He added Brendon and never wrote it down, didn’t he?” He gestures quickly to me and I feel my stomach drop. I kept forgetting that I was actually not on Ryan’s good side anymore.
“I think,” I groan out, pushing myself to my feet. “I’m gonna go home. I don’t feel good.” I feel both Jon and Spencer watching me as I stoop down and sling my bag over my shoulder. “I’ll meet you both here tomorrow at 7, so we can finish planning, alright?” I look between the two of them and both give me a small nod before I walk out of the room and head towards the door.
As soon as I get outside, I stop and stare at the driveway. There’s only one car and it’s Spencer’s. Fuck. I forgot they had given me a ride here. I sigh and adjust my bag before setting off down the sidewalk towards my street.
At least it’s only a little over 12 blocks to my house. I pull out my phone and check the time. 7:30. Mom and Dad are probably going to be upset, but I can just tell them me and Jon and Spencer had to work on a project. Which isn’t exactly far off the truth anyways.
I take my time walking and let the day play back through my head. Gabe was dead, along with Pete. Ryan was planning to shoot basically everyone in our high school tomorrow. Ryan and I were no longer together and I was now included in the people he wanted to kill. Fantastic. I run over the various scenarios of how tomorrow could go and find myself holding back from physically cringing.
Scenario one: Jon, Spencer, and I walk up to Ryan and tell him he can’t do this. He agrees, we all go home and everything returns to normal. Chance of that actually happening: < 0%
Scenario two: Jon, Spencer, and I walk up to Ryan and tell him he can’t do this. He disagrees, we all get killed. Chance of that actually happening: >99%
Scenario three: Jon, Spencer, and I walk up to Ryan and tell him he can’t do this. He disagrees, kills everyone, with the exception of us. Chance of that actually happening: < 1%
The only one out of those that I like is number one, and of course it’s the least likely to even happen. I sigh and run my hand through my hair, pulling on it a little. Fuck, why did things have to be so damn complicated all the time? Ryan couldn’t have just waited this shit out, let the school year end and just move on like a normal person, could he? I never wanted things to be like this. I wanted me and him to be the couple that makes it through high school together. That goes to college together. That gets married and lives happily ever after. Clearly that wasn’t a possibility. I brush the back of my hand over my eyes and fight against the burning feeling taking over them.
“No,” I mutter under my breath to myself. “You are not going to cry over something that obviously isn’t ever going to happen.” No matter what the outcome of tomorrow was, I knew things were never going to become what I wanted with Ryan.
I shake the thought from my head as I walk up my vacant driveway to my house. Good, my parents were gone. More time to avoid questions. I could go to bed before they got back and avoid everything till tomorrow morning, maybe even later. I push open the heavy door and step into the quiet hallway and glance towards the small table pushed up against the wall. No purse or keys there, meaning no one was home.
I sigh with relief and move towards the kitchen and flip on the overhead light but no light fills the room. I pause, flicking the switch again. Nothing. Great, the power’s out again. I hadn’t even noticed the lack of the hum from the air conditioner. I let out a frustrated sigh and let my eyes adjust to the dark before pushing off the wall towards the counter and feeling my way along it. I go to a drawer and wrench it open. Feeling around inside it, my hand finally comes into contact with the hard, smooth plastic of a lighter. I pull it out, banging the drawer shut with my hip and walk back out to the hall, up the staircase to my room.
I walk in and quickly snap the door shut behind me, pressing my back against the cool wood. I twist the lighter around in my hands, examining it while I walk over to my dresser and pick up a candle to light. The flame from the candle glows and lights up enough of my room that I can see comfortably without straining against the dark. I move to my bed and sit down, still fiddling with the lighter. I flick it to life and watch the flame, twisting and turning it and watching as the flame moves to stay upright, no matter how the lighter is. I flip the lighter to the side again and the flame moves up the side quickly before I have time to move my hand.
“Fuck!” I hiss out, dropping the lighter and looking at my hand where a small, red burn is starting to form. I rub it gently, feeling the warmth of the flame still on my skin. I glance at the lighter again, picking it up and flipping it over in my hands before flicking it back to life. I suck in a deep breath and hold it, moving the flame to my forearm and pressing it to my skin. Some of the air I’m holding hisses out and I bite my lip against the pain, letting the flame go out after a few seconds. “Fuck,” I pant out. I gulp in more air and feel tears start to roll down my cheeks a little. Ignoring them, I light the flame again and press it to another spot on my arm. I withhold the hiss trying to escape my lips again and let the flame stay lit until a foul smell starts to attack my nose. Lifting the flame slightly, I guide it to another clean area of skin and press it down again.
I’m not sure how much time passes but eventually I’m gasping through my tears and can’t see my arm through them to burn anymore. I drop the lighter and cradle my arm in front of me as I shake from the sobs rocking through my body. I let my body fall to the side and curl up on top of my comforter, hugging my arm to my chest and letting myself cry. I let myself cry over everything. Over Ryan and me being done after everything we’d been through. Over what Ryan had done so far and what he was going to do. Over how much of this was even my fault to begin with. Over what was going to happen tomorrow when we tried to stop this all. I let myself cry until my eyes ran dry and I had nothing else to do but go to sleep and hope for the best during tomorrow.
Chapter 10
A/N: I know, this one is short. But the next chapter is the final chapter and is probably going to be the longest chapter yet. I just couldn't keep writing this chapter without getting too far into the next one.
Pairings: Ryan/Brendon
POV: First (Brendon's)
Summary: They were the outcasts of their school. The list started out as something innocent. Then Ryan wanted to get revenge in the only way he knew possible and he's dragging Brendon along for the ride.
Author's Note: Loosely based on the book Hate List by Jennifer Brown. (By loosely, I do mean very loosely. Also going to include a trigger warning in general right now (Self harm, alcoholism, bullying, violence, and several other things that may arise.)) Basically, don't read if you're going to be easily affected.
Disclaimer: Complete work of fiction. I don't own the characters. I'm only responsible for the plot line.
I stare at the open notebook in front of me, pouring over the various names, some in my own handwriting, some in Ryan’s.
“Alright,” I say glancing between two different pages. “I think that Ryan will probably plan to do this either in the morning during zero hour when everyone is in the cafeteria/hallway area, or during the break between the two lunch sections.” I look up at Spencer sitting on the couch with his knees pulled up to his chest. His attention is focused on Jon who is hanging upside down on the couch. I sigh, thinking he hadn’t heard a damn thing I’d been saying. Thankfully he seems to have been listening though, as he gives a thoughtful nod before directing his attention back to me.
“I’d wager more on zero hour. I doubt he’d be able to hold off all day to do it in the afternoon. Besides, it’d be harder to hide a gun that long. Knowing Ryan, he’ll wanna do it as soon as possible.” I watch as Spencer puts his head on his knees, letting out a deep sigh. Jon reaches out and grabs the notebook off the floor in front of me, flipping it upside down so he can read it.
“There are a lot of fucking names on here,” he says, flipping through the various pages. “Why the fuck are some of these names even on here? What the hell did Zoe Peterson, Ayanna Miller or Cassie Fox ever do to Ryan? They never even talk to anyone!” I offer a shrug and focus on a loose thread on the hem of my jeans. Jon sighs and throws the notebook back to me. “This is ridiculous,” he huffs out. “How does he think he can kill all those people before getting caught?”
I groan and lean backwards until I’m lying down and looking at the ceiling. I rub a hand over my eyes. How the fuck were we even going to do this? If Ryan was going to have a gun, how were we going to stop him? Would Ryan really stop for us, or would he just shoot us and continue on with his plan? Ryan wouldn’t shoot me or his best friends, would he?
As if reading my mind, Spencer lifts his head off his knees and speaks up. “You think Ryan’s added me and Jon to the list yet?”
Jon pipes up, “Well he couldn’t have added us to the list. The list is right in front of us.” He points at the list and Spencer picks up a pillow, smacking him with it.
“You vagina! I meant if he’s gonna come after us as well. I doubt he’s going directly off the list now anyways. He added Brendon and never wrote it down, didn’t he?” He gestures quickly to me and I feel my stomach drop. I kept forgetting that I was actually not on Ryan’s good side anymore.
“I think,” I groan out, pushing myself to my feet. “I’m gonna go home. I don’t feel good.” I feel both Jon and Spencer watching me as I stoop down and sling my bag over my shoulder. “I’ll meet you both here tomorrow at 7, so we can finish planning, alright?” I look between the two of them and both give me a small nod before I walk out of the room and head towards the door.
As soon as I get outside, I stop and stare at the driveway. There’s only one car and it’s Spencer’s. Fuck. I forgot they had given me a ride here. I sigh and adjust my bag before setting off down the sidewalk towards my street.
At least it’s only a little over 12 blocks to my house. I pull out my phone and check the time. 7:30. Mom and Dad are probably going to be upset, but I can just tell them me and Jon and Spencer had to work on a project. Which isn’t exactly far off the truth anyways.
I take my time walking and let the day play back through my head. Gabe was dead, along with Pete. Ryan was planning to shoot basically everyone in our high school tomorrow. Ryan and I were no longer together and I was now included in the people he wanted to kill. Fantastic. I run over the various scenarios of how tomorrow could go and find myself holding back from physically cringing.
Scenario one: Jon, Spencer, and I walk up to Ryan and tell him he can’t do this. He agrees, we all go home and everything returns to normal. Chance of that actually happening: < 0%
Scenario two: Jon, Spencer, and I walk up to Ryan and tell him he can’t do this. He disagrees, we all get killed. Chance of that actually happening: >99%
Scenario three: Jon, Spencer, and I walk up to Ryan and tell him he can’t do this. He disagrees, kills everyone, with the exception of us. Chance of that actually happening: < 1%
The only one out of those that I like is number one, and of course it’s the least likely to even happen. I sigh and run my hand through my hair, pulling on it a little. Fuck, why did things have to be so damn complicated all the time? Ryan couldn’t have just waited this shit out, let the school year end and just move on like a normal person, could he? I never wanted things to be like this. I wanted me and him to be the couple that makes it through high school together. That goes to college together. That gets married and lives happily ever after. Clearly that wasn’t a possibility. I brush the back of my hand over my eyes and fight against the burning feeling taking over them.
“No,” I mutter under my breath to myself. “You are not going to cry over something that obviously isn’t ever going to happen.” No matter what the outcome of tomorrow was, I knew things were never going to become what I wanted with Ryan.
I shake the thought from my head as I walk up my vacant driveway to my house. Good, my parents were gone. More time to avoid questions. I could go to bed before they got back and avoid everything till tomorrow morning, maybe even later. I push open the heavy door and step into the quiet hallway and glance towards the small table pushed up against the wall. No purse or keys there, meaning no one was home.
I sigh with relief and move towards the kitchen and flip on the overhead light but no light fills the room. I pause, flicking the switch again. Nothing. Great, the power’s out again. I hadn’t even noticed the lack of the hum from the air conditioner. I let out a frustrated sigh and let my eyes adjust to the dark before pushing off the wall towards the counter and feeling my way along it. I go to a drawer and wrench it open. Feeling around inside it, my hand finally comes into contact with the hard, smooth plastic of a lighter. I pull it out, banging the drawer shut with my hip and walk back out to the hall, up the staircase to my room.
I walk in and quickly snap the door shut behind me, pressing my back against the cool wood. I twist the lighter around in my hands, examining it while I walk over to my dresser and pick up a candle to light. The flame from the candle glows and lights up enough of my room that I can see comfortably without straining against the dark. I move to my bed and sit down, still fiddling with the lighter. I flick it to life and watch the flame, twisting and turning it and watching as the flame moves to stay upright, no matter how the lighter is. I flip the lighter to the side again and the flame moves up the side quickly before I have time to move my hand.
“Fuck!” I hiss out, dropping the lighter and looking at my hand where a small, red burn is starting to form. I rub it gently, feeling the warmth of the flame still on my skin. I glance at the lighter again, picking it up and flipping it over in my hands before flicking it back to life. I suck in a deep breath and hold it, moving the flame to my forearm and pressing it to my skin. Some of the air I’m holding hisses out and I bite my lip against the pain, letting the flame go out after a few seconds. “Fuck,” I pant out. I gulp in more air and feel tears start to roll down my cheeks a little. Ignoring them, I light the flame again and press it to another spot on my arm. I withhold the hiss trying to escape my lips again and let the flame stay lit until a foul smell starts to attack my nose. Lifting the flame slightly, I guide it to another clean area of skin and press it down again.
I’m not sure how much time passes but eventually I’m gasping through my tears and can’t see my arm through them to burn anymore. I drop the lighter and cradle my arm in front of me as I shake from the sobs rocking through my body. I let my body fall to the side and curl up on top of my comforter, hugging my arm to my chest and letting myself cry. I let myself cry over everything. Over Ryan and me being done after everything we’d been through. Over what Ryan had done so far and what he was going to do. Over how much of this was even my fault to begin with. Over what was going to happen tomorrow when we tried to stop this all. I let myself cry until my eyes ran dry and I had nothing else to do but go to sleep and hope for the best during tomorrow.
Chapter 10
A/N: I know, this one is short. But the next chapter is the final chapter and is probably going to be the longest chapter yet. I just couldn't keep writing this chapter without getting too far into the next one.