Chapter Text
Brendon closed the Periscope app and threw his phone across to the couch. He crossed his arms and huffed. Keeping close contact with the fans was the very least he could do, considering all that they’ve ever done for him. After all, they made him famous and allowed him to do what he loved for a living. But sometimes talking to them could be a strain.
Sarah plopped down on the couch across from Brendon and smiled slightly, head cocked and an eyebrow raised. “What happened?”
Brendon waved his hand dismissively. “It’s nothing.”
“You’ve gotten irritated about the Periscope stuff before, but never like this.”
He rubbed the back of his neck and avoided eye contact with his wife. Still, he could feel her bright blue eyes searing holes into his head. She was right, something did happen. This woman knew everything about him and could read him like a book. But whenever shit like this came up, he was still ashamed to tell her.
Brendon could see her cross her legs and lean forward towards him. She sighed. “I heard you say his name. It’s the first time you’ve actually said it in months.” Sarah snorted a small laugh. “For a while, Ryan was worse than Voldemort.”
“He’s not worse than Voldemort, like, I mean, Voldemort is pretty bad, man. Like, awful. He killed people, Sarah. Ryan never killed anyone. It’s cool. It’s cool, really like —”
“Brendon,” Sarah said, exasperated, and cutting him off. “What the hell happened?”
Rolling his head back in unison with his eyes, Brendon groaned and said, “I don’t know, they called him a pussy, and fuck, fucking Ryan isn’t a pussy. I kind of hate him but he’s not a pussy. He writes like a pussy but that’s just who he is. He’s got a poet’s soul, you know? So talented, though, I wish I could write like him. But anyway, I don’t want people insulting him.” Brendon looked back to Sarah. She kind of looked concerned, and kind of…amused, almost.
“Listen, I’ve told you before, it’s okay for you to still love him,” she said, reaching over to him.
He put up his hands and shook his head. “No, no, I don’t love him. I don’t. I didn’t, really, ever. Really. We were just…kids. Silly kids.”
Sarah mirrored his movements, looking bemused. “Okay honey, if that’s what you want to believe.” A pause. “This happens every time, it has happened more than once, Bren. Let it happen.” And then she stood up and stretched. “I’m gonna make dinner. Or roll a blunt. Or both.” Giggling, she skipped away.
“Uggggggggggggggghhhhhhhhh,” Brendon groaned before flopping over on the chaise. There were a long list of things he never wanted to ever deal with again, and his unresolved feelings for Ryan was up there, only under severe food poisoning from bad clams and Mormonism. He rubbed his eyes. Most days, he can avoid the thoughts. Most days, he is happy. He has an amazing, beautiful wife, a dream job, a dream house, great friends, great pets…He’s living a fantasy life. Despite that, he sometimes remembers the days he and Ryan jumped into Ryan’s rickety old car and drove out to the desert near Vegas and didn’t stop until they thought the car would run out of gas or break down. Occasionally it would overheat and they would get out, laughing, and poured water on the engine, on each other, and kissed in the sandy daylight. Sometimes, being nothing could mean everything. Before they blew up, they would spend hours in Spencer’s basement trying to get their sound right; Ryan half-assedly trying to direct everyone as Brendon, in his ever-present hyperactivity, was all but bouncing off the walls. It was fun.
Brendon thought about what Sarah said before running off. Happens every time… He tried to think of a time that ever happened before. He supposed that after the split, they became friends again, that’s what Sarah was talking about. And like, maybe he and Ryan had kissed, pissed off Jon, and freaked out Sarah, but that was a one-time thing. Maybe that’s what she referred to. He didn’t really want to think about it anymore. But when the band first started, that’s when it was good.
But that’s all it was, it was fun. They were kids, and that’s what they did. He and Ryan weren’t even technically together, they just fooled around. Friends with benefits at best. Confused teenagers at worst. He never loved Ryan, he didn’t, he never did. At least that’s what he told him. That’s what he wrote in his songs. That’s what he said to Ryan on their last day of tour in Cape Town.
Suddenly, the doorbell rang, yanking Brendon out of his reminiscing. He remained on the couch and listened as Sarah let Spencer in, listening to their talking and the frenzied, excited barking of his dogs. After the pleasantries, Spence and Sarah lowered their voices, and he knew exactly what they were talking about. But it was unnecessary, it was so unnecessary. He was fine. Brendon fucking Urie was fine.
Spencer walked into the living room with a loud “HELLO BRENDON” and he perched on the arm rest of the couch, smiling somewhat condescendingly at Brendon.
“What did Sarah tell you,?” Brendon asked flatly.
“Oh, you know, everything.”
Brendon sat up and crossed his arms. “Okay, so, whatever.”
“You write songs about him. You miss him like you miss no other.” Spencer narrowed his eyes, his smile never once faltering.
“It’s ‘you miss them like you miss no other.”
“Suuuuuuure.”
Spencer rolled his eyes now. His face was the kind that could go through a million different expressions at once. Spencer was a fucking rock, and he was fucking responsible. And that’s probably why it’s best he avoided business practices with Brendon.
“Listen,” Spencer sighed. “I know about the rest of this album that’s coming out. I’m in your inner sanctum. If you don’t talk about this to someone you’re going to explode.”
“Fuck you, man, you’re fired.”
“I already left the band.”
“Still, fuck you, you’re fired as my friend.” Brendon scooted back on the couch and smiled, self-satisfied.
Spencer drew in a breath, his brow furrowing. His smile slowly turned into a half frown, and he said, “Look up the lyrics to Cape Town, would you? The one Ryan wrote? Look it up.” He stood up and went back into the kitchen with Sarah. Brendon grunted in response when Spencer left the room. He rolled onto his side and tried to reach across to the couch to retrieve his phone. He really did not want to get up. Moving half his body off the chair, he strained towards the phone, before finally falling face-first into the carpet. He remained there for a few seconds, contemplating the horrors of existence and how hard life could be before pulling himself off the floor and grabbing his phone. Plopping down on the couch, he opened up Safari and searched “cape town lyrics the young veins.” He swore his hands weren’t shaking.
I hardly knew a thing about you
I got lost in Capetown
in Capetown
I saw you
I met you
I loved you
I left you
In Capetown
Brendon bit his lip and exited the browser. Then, he opened a new message to the number Spence had given him months ago and typed
hey whats up