The Only Difference Between Brent Wilson and Jon Walker Is the Name
Chapter 1.
Brent Wilson, bassist for Panic! At The Disco, was officially having one of the worst days of his life.
First, he’d played really bad, like worse than usual.
Second, Spencer was being a fucking pissy bitch and complaining about everything that he had been doing for the last few weeks. It didn’t help that Brendon joined it too.
It seemed that Ryan was the only one who wasn’t getting involved. Well, sort of.
That didn’t include all the arguments they were having. It seemed like from when they all woke to when they collapsed in their bunks, excluding being on stage, they were all arguing. Wait, correction, they were all ganging up on him. Even Zack (their temporary security guard, since their old one quit) seemed to take their side over Brent’s.
After yet another argument, this time about how Brent should get some lessons and Brent just told them to go fuck themselves, he stormed out. They weren’t headlining tonight, so they had finished before half 9. It would be at least another 2 hours before the buses all started moving again.
He wandered around the parking lot, before he walked over to where there was a wooded area. He just needed some time alone, to think about what his band mates, his fucking best friends, had said to him. Brendon had told him that they would be better off without him, that he could play bass and get a tech to play piano. Spencer had told him to get bass lessons from somewhere or so help me God, Wilson, I’m gonna knock you out!
Oh, the fun conversations he had.
It wasn’t as if he hated them, he just… they didn’t get him. Hell, he’d known Ryan and Spencer for years, Brendon only a little less, but they just didn’t get him. He loved the band, and he wanted to do anything to stay. But he didn’t think he was that terrible. Ok, so Brendon played bass in the studio while they were doing Fever, but still. He could play, he’d come up with some of the bass lines on the album in a snap.
He looked up at the moon, bright, full and huge. He snorted. Bring on the fucking werewolves, man.
If he did get eaten by wolves, then Brendon and Spencer would be throwing a fucking party that they didn’t have to worry with him any more. He sat on the grass and listened to the concert that was taking place on the other side of the buses.
They had been supporting The Academy Is… for the last few weeks, since the beginning of April, and now it was May. Almost 6 weeks on tour, and they still had another 3 weeks left. Damn US tours were always so huge. He liked it when they had gone to the UK, they could tour the whole of it in less than 2 weeks, 10 days usually.
All five members of Cobra Starship, the other support, had stayed up in the wings, watching Academy perform. He got on well with one of the Cobras, Elisa Schwartz, the keytarist. They always hung out when they could. Although they’d been spending less time together lately. Elisa had pretty much been stalking Gabe Saporta. Why she would stalk her lead vocalist was beyond Brent.
He didn’t really get along with anyone else. They all had their groups within groups, and Brent never felt welcome in any of them. They all associated him as a loner. He just wished that he could fit it better, that he could have less arguments, hell no arguments, with his band mates and that he could be just a little better at bass. Enough so that Spencer would stop attacking every five minutes to get lessons.
He leant against the tree and closed his eyes. And maybe, if all these wishes were going to come true (only in his dreams) he could magically turn into someone better looking than him. Because, God knows he needed it. He had shoulder length black hair, that always seemed to look greasy even a few hours after he washed it.
He yawned, suddenly really tired. He settled against the tree and as he drifted off to sleep, his head was filled with all those thoughts.
When Brent woke up, he was in a bunk, he knew that without even opening his eyes. He had been living in one for nearly 6 weeks, he knew a bunk by now. But he didn’t know how he got back to his bunk last night. He swore he fell asleep outside, next to some circle of trees. Zack probably found him and got him back to the bus.
He opened his eyes and his first thought was this isn’t my bunk.
He looked around, seeing pictures of various members of Academy with someone he didn’t recognise but at the same time looked vaguely familiar. He squinted at the picture closest to him, reaching out for it, his fingertips barely touching it.
The next thing he knew, he was falling into unconsciousness again.
First, he’d played really bad, like worse than usual.
Second, Spencer was being a fucking pissy bitch and complaining about everything that he had been doing for the last few weeks. It didn’t help that Brendon joined it too.
It seemed that Ryan was the only one who wasn’t getting involved. Well, sort of.
That didn’t include all the arguments they were having. It seemed like from when they all woke to when they collapsed in their bunks, excluding being on stage, they were all arguing. Wait, correction, they were all ganging up on him. Even Zack (their temporary security guard, since their old one quit) seemed to take their side over Brent’s.
After yet another argument, this time about how Brent should get some lessons and Brent just told them to go fuck themselves, he stormed out. They weren’t headlining tonight, so they had finished before half 9. It would be at least another 2 hours before the buses all started moving again.
He wandered around the parking lot, before he walked over to where there was a wooded area. He just needed some time alone, to think about what his band mates, his fucking best friends, had said to him. Brendon had told him that they would be better off without him, that he could play bass and get a tech to play piano. Spencer had told him to get bass lessons from somewhere or so help me God, Wilson, I’m gonna knock you out!
Oh, the fun conversations he had.
It wasn’t as if he hated them, he just… they didn’t get him. Hell, he’d known Ryan and Spencer for years, Brendon only a little less, but they just didn’t get him. He loved the band, and he wanted to do anything to stay. But he didn’t think he was that terrible. Ok, so Brendon played bass in the studio while they were doing Fever, but still. He could play, he’d come up with some of the bass lines on the album in a snap.
He looked up at the moon, bright, full and huge. He snorted. Bring on the fucking werewolves, man.
If he did get eaten by wolves, then Brendon and Spencer would be throwing a fucking party that they didn’t have to worry with him any more. He sat on the grass and listened to the concert that was taking place on the other side of the buses.
They had been supporting The Academy Is… for the last few weeks, since the beginning of April, and now it was May. Almost 6 weeks on tour, and they still had another 3 weeks left. Damn US tours were always so huge. He liked it when they had gone to the UK, they could tour the whole of it in less than 2 weeks, 10 days usually.
All five members of Cobra Starship, the other support, had stayed up in the wings, watching Academy perform. He got on well with one of the Cobras, Elisa Schwartz, the keytarist. They always hung out when they could. Although they’d been spending less time together lately. Elisa had pretty much been stalking Gabe Saporta. Why she would stalk her lead vocalist was beyond Brent.
He didn’t really get along with anyone else. They all had their groups within groups, and Brent never felt welcome in any of them. They all associated him as a loner. He just wished that he could fit it better, that he could have less arguments, hell no arguments, with his band mates and that he could be just a little better at bass. Enough so that Spencer would stop attacking every five minutes to get lessons.
He leant against the tree and closed his eyes. And maybe, if all these wishes were going to come true (only in his dreams) he could magically turn into someone better looking than him. Because, God knows he needed it. He had shoulder length black hair, that always seemed to look greasy even a few hours after he washed it.
He yawned, suddenly really tired. He settled against the tree and as he drifted off to sleep, his head was filled with all those thoughts.
When Brent woke up, he was in a bunk, he knew that without even opening his eyes. He had been living in one for nearly 6 weeks, he knew a bunk by now. But he didn’t know how he got back to his bunk last night. He swore he fell asleep outside, next to some circle of trees. Zack probably found him and got him back to the bus.
He opened his eyes and his first thought was this isn’t my bunk.
He looked around, seeing pictures of various members of Academy with someone he didn’t recognise but at the same time looked vaguely familiar. He squinted at the picture closest to him, reaching out for it, his fingertips barely touching it.
The next thing he knew, he was falling into unconsciousness again.
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So, this is something I thought I'd try. Not sure how you'll like it, but let's see, ay?Comment and let me know what you thought.
Much Love!
D!ATD xoxo