"First Try" Spin-Off

Brendon was outside his house again. Standing among the bushes in his dark clothes. He felt like such a douche bag. He was smoking too. He didn’t even smoke, really. He guesses he’s just nervous someone will see him.

He’s really tired of being here. It’s been every night for the past twelve days. Maybe it was just tradition, now. Sit around the house and wait for it to get dark. Drink to pass the time faster. Around nine or ten, drive down to the street that called his name.

Was there really a point to being here? Was he gonna come out onto his porch and allow him in? Extremely unlikely. He sighed, propelling a puff of smoke out. Part of him told him to just leave and stop wasting his time. The other part of him begged him to stay just a little longer. Maybe he’ll come out.

As if his other side was proving itself correct, a light flickered on. Brendon moved in to get a closer look. It was in the living room. The TV was on in the darkness, causing a light show of vibrant colors on the opposite wall. He was lying on his couch with the green tea in hand. Every night, it was the same. Couldn’t sleep without a cup of hot green tea. Brendon smiled. He was so reliable and so handsome.

A hissing noise began all around Brendon. He thought he had walked into the snake pit. Then, the hissing got louder and louder. Without warning, small droplets of water were showering Brendon. He tried his hardest not to yell profanity and ran across the yard to the edge of the side walk. He had forgotten. It was Thursday. Sprinkler day.

Now he was soaked to the skin. “Fuck,” he said under his breath. He took another drag from his cigarette, but, of course, it was out. He threw it to the ground. It was early December and significantly cold in California. Brendon started to shiver. He walked the two blocks to his car and rode home.

“This town just wasn't made for two
But when the streets they call my name, what can I do?
There's a place I'd like to visit there someday
And if you decline my invitation, what can I say?”

Now, he was in the house. Not alone, not just with him. But for once, he was on the inside looking out. It was a party. A “Hurray We’re Home!” kind of party. Others were there, too. People known from business and people known from fun. Brendon wasn’t really up for it tonight, though. He felt awkward inside the house. It was odd because he always dreamed of being in here. To make himself feel a little better, he went outside.

He stood in the bushes, lighting up. The corner light cast a shadow for him to stand in. It was almost like every night now, except the house was busy and filled with light.

“Are you part of the party?”

Brendon turned around. It was an elderly man walking his dog. “Yeah, this is my friend’s house. Just… uh… stepped outside for a smoke.”

“You know, people around here are starting to notice you standing in this yard at night. I’ve had a couple people say they’re calling the police next time they see you. I mean, why do you always come here, kid?” the man grabbed the cigarette box out of Brendon’s hand.

Brendon got out his lighter and handed it to the man. He wasn’t quite sure why he was putting up with the senior. He sighed. “I’m sorry if I’ve been scaring the neighborhood. The person that lives there is a friend of mine. …The thing is though, I like them more than a friend.” Why was he telling a complete strange this information?

My man’s face looked utterly confused. He took a drag before opening his mouth. “So you stand outside their house at night, smoking and sometimes drinking? What good is that gonna do you?”

Brendon looked down at the ground. A smile adorned his face. It hurt because he hadn’t done it in so long. “It won’t. But a lonely boy can only dream, not exactly think logically,” he giggled at himself.

“Well, I don’t approve and I’m a little bit befuddled by it, but I’ll spread word that you mean no harm.” The man smiled and his leathery skin crumpled and folded into many wrinkles.

Brendon smiled back. “Thanks, man.”

“Good luck to you. And thanks for the smoke,” he walked himself and his terrier away and down the street.

Brendon finished off his cigarette and decided to pop back inside before leaving. People were starting to depart now and the crowd was thinning. Brendon walked into the kitchen to see the host cleaning up some drinks.

“Here, let me help,” Brendon said taking some of them and dumping the contents of a couple red cups into the sink.

“Thanks, man,” he said back. He walked into the other room and came back a minute later carrying more trash.

He walked past Brendon on his way to the trash. Brendon heard him stop behind him. He felt his face pressed to the back of his shirt. He closed his eyes taking in the moment.

“When did you take up smoking?” he asked continuing his path to the garbage.

Brendon sighed and opened his eyes. He racked his brain for an excuse. One pops on his tongue and he tries to stuff it back down his throat. “I guess I can’t take the pain of loneliness, Ryan.” He failed grandly. He feels utterly weird saying his name for the first time in a month. He promises himself to say it more before it becomes a bad habit. He bit down on his tongue as if to punish it.

“Yeah, well, you’ll be dead by the time you fix that problem. Either that or no one will want to kiss your stanky mouth,” Ryan jokes. He sits up on the counter to watch Brendon clean up.

‘Judging by the fix to the problem, I will be dead anyway before it happens,’ he thought but didn’t dare say. “I got to go but I’ll see you sometime,” Brendon said putting the remaining cups in the trash. ‘Tomorrow works for me. Be out on your lawn at ten,’ he thought.

“Ok, thanks for coming. Oh, and thanks for cleaning up. You’re the best, man,” Ryan slapped his shoulder. A grin shone on his face. He looked truly happy.

Brendon forced his smirk. “Anytime, Ryan,” he said before walking out to his car. This time it was parked in the driveway.

”When the corner light has dimmed upon the street
And all the faces looked confused on those you meet
Tell your friends that I'll be dead when you read this
Tell them I couldn't take the pain of loneliness”

Brendon returned home. He got out another cigarette. He took off his shoes and jacket and slumped against the entry wall. He felt so low. He walked twenty steps. He lay down on his bed, stretching every limb to a corner. He was surrounded with darkness. He took a drag of the cigarette and then crushed it in the ashtray next to his bed. He had only bought that ashtray yesterday and it was already swimming with butts and cinders. He put his hands over his face. How could he let every opportunity slip by? He rolled over and was quickly asleep.

It was the cabin in the mountains that the band had rented. It was a clear day. Brendon was in the front yard, smoking a bubblegum cigar and smelling the wildflowers. He’s singing to himself in a hushed tone. He can’t tell what song it is but it’s a love song, Brendon can feel it in his bones. He heard a call from the cabin. He turns and sees his friend, waving to him from the porch. He’s asking him to come back in. Brendon runs up the path and comes in the door. Inside, it’s exactly the same as the cabin. Jon and Spencer are nowhere in sight but neither is Ryan. Brendon looks through the house unable to find him. Suddenly, he remembers his friend’s hiding spot. He opens the second story window and jumps onto the tree that hangs closely to the opening. He grabs the branches going higher and higher until he is level with the roof. He climbs onto the slanted surface and sure enough Ryan is sitting on the edge of the roof next to the stone chimney.

Brendon takes a seat next to him, dangling his feet over the edge. Ryan puts his head on Brendon’s shoulder. Brendon smells his hair, like wildflowers. Brendon lightly takes Ryan’s chin and raises his lips to his own.

Brendon wakes suddenly at the sound of a woodpecker on his bedroom window. He tries to think badly of the bird, but can’t. He woke up smiling for the first time since he’s been home from the tour.

“I am feeling low
And I'm singing in my sleep when you're around; will you comfort me?
I'll dream of you
And the smile that you give to me”

Brendon’s continues to wake up smiling for a month. Every day is still the same, but now he can’t wait to get home and sleep and dream of Ryan.

One morning, he wakes up particularly early. He showers in cold water and he can see the sunshine coming through his window. It can’t be past eight o’clock. He feels himself getting jittery and knows he needs a smoke. He brings the stick to his lips. Suddenly, Ryan’s voice is alive in his memory, “Yeah, well, you’ll probably be dead before you fix that problem. Either that or no one will want to kiss your stanky mouth.” He pulls the cigarette out of his mouth and puts it back in the pack. He walks to the kitchen and throws them in the trash. He brushes his teeth seven times to get the taste of nicotine out. He throws fresh shirt on over his worn in jeans. He pulls his boots on and actually leaves the house while the sun is still out.

He gets in his car and sighs loudly. He knows where he wants to go. He starts the car pulling out and just drives. The sun shines so bright when you haven’t seen it in awhile. He dusts off the Ray-Ban’s he keeps in the car. His ride is approximately four and a half hours long. But he arrives in perfect time. It’s about one o’clock and the sun is at its brightest. It illuminates the wildflowers and the slimy canal. His eyes travel up the dirt path to the cabin. THE cabin. The one he has been dreaming of for a month straight.

He sees the tree. He knows what to do. He runs over to it and climbs it. Grabbing the braches, higher and higher he travels until he’s level with the roof. He jumps for it and lands flawlessly, like he’s been doing for it every day for a month. He walks over to the chimney. He sits down letting his feet dangle over the edge. He lies back, feeling the sun warm his body and face. His mind drifts and he thinks about Ryan and smoking and loneliness. He misses Ryan making him actually smile, not just smile in his sleep. Sleep. That sounds nice.

He wakes up. He’s still on the roof. He can’t believe he stayed long enough to actually fall asleep. He rises up and takes off his sunglasses, rubbing his eyes awake. He looks at the sky. It’s freshly dark blue. It must be about seven by now. His body aches and he can feel his skin taut from the sun. He didn’t dream that time and he can’t figure out why. This is why he came here to make his dream realer. Because he couldn’t make his dream real.

Brendon sighs, understanding, finally, how stupid he sounds. His light bulb flashes on to full energy and his brain starts clearing out the cobwebs and moving again.

Brendon climbs the tree back down and races for his car. He gets on the highway, putting the pedal to the floor. He tries to remember if it’s sprinkler day. No, it’s Friday the 31st. Brendon thinks for a second. Shit, it’s New Year’s. Maybe he’s out partying. Brendon presses on until he reaches Ryan’s house. The road is dark and the street lights are low. He pulls into his usual spot, two blocks away. He sprints to the house, but he stops short of the lawn. He can’t move his feet forward, he’s not quite used to this. He looks up into the living room window. Ryan is there, on the couch, with his tea, and the light show flashing. Brendon musters all of his courage and takes a step forward up the grass.

“FREEZE!” shouts a voice from behind him, “PUT YOUR HAND ON YOUR HEAD NOW!”

Brendon turns and his eyes go wide as the moon. Three cops are standing on the edge of the sidewalk, guns in hand.

“HANDS ON YOUR HEAD!” one of them repeats.

Brendon, in a daze, obeys the orders. He can feel the cool winter breeze running through his sweaty underarms from the sprinting and the adrenaline.

Two cops come forward and grab his hands putting them behind his back. Brendon tries to speak but only babble comes out. “You are coming with us, sir,” a cop says firmly.

Brendon was walked over to the cop car that hid behind some bushes, explaining why Brendon didn’t see it before. They cuffed him and felt him down, only finding his wallet and his phone. He was leaned up against the car as one of the officers wrote a report. They opened his wallet to find his license.

“Brendon Boyd Urie. Arrested for neighborhood disturbance and trespassing on private property. Time is 11:51. Congratulations on ending 2008 on a good note,” the officer laughed.

This situation kind of shed a different light on the whole year.

“Officer, he’s mine,” a distant voice said. Brendon couldn’t raise his head, but he immediately knew who it was.

“Excuse me? Do you know him?” the officer pointed his pen towards Brendon.

“Yeah. He’s my friend, he’s no trespasser,” Ryan sounded tired and slightly annoyed that he was saving his friend from this fate.

“Are you sure? Cause we have gotten multiple calls in about this guy?” another officer twisted around to ask.

“Yeah, I’m sure. I’m sorry if he caused any trouble. You can let him go, though,” Ryan said.

“Okay, if you say so. But I don’t any other complaints about him hanging around your lawn at all hours of the night,” the officer took Brendon’s cuffs off.

Brendon rubbed his pained wrists. He didn’t turn around to look at Ryan, he couldn’t. He was too mortified.

“Oh, no. You won’t, I’ll keep him under control,” Ryan waved off the police officers as they got in their car.

“Well, have a happy new year!” shouted another cop, out the window, before they drove out of sight.

Brendon was left alone in Ryan’s front yard. The only time he felt uncomfortable there. He didn’t turn to face him quite yet. “How long have you know?” he asked.

“A little over three weeks,” Ryan said his voice was closer now.

Brendon was speechless. He had come here with such a speech, such a performance, ready. Now the script was falling apart. He closed his eyes and wished more than ever he had a smoke. He opened his mouth to speak, but nothing came out. He had run out words to say.

“Brendon,” Ryan began. His voice was tight in his throat, “come inside, please.” He was begging him.

Brendon turned around finally facing him. He looked at Ryan, standing there in his favorite grey sweatpants and a white t-shirt plastered with his old high school mascot. Brendon tried to keep his breath to himself. When he started feeling dizzy, he took a deep breath in. This made his eyes water extensively.

“It's the same thing everyday
Because we run out of things to say
If you're gone and me not here
It kind of sheds a different light on the whole year”

Ryan sighed and walked towards him. He put his hand on the small of his back and pushed him towards the door. Brendon was slow to follow at first, but he picked up on it. They reached the porch, then the door, and then they were inside. Ryan led him past the living room, with the TV still on, past the kitchen, and to his bedroom. Though Brendon had been to Ryan house many times, he’d never been in here. He couldn’t quite see it with the darkness and the tears in his eyes. Ryan sat him on the bed and joined him there. They sat, with their legs over the edge, upright.

“Say what you want to say, Brendon,” Ryan’s voice was expressionless.

Brendon choked back an oncoming storm. He promised himself, then, that he wouldn’t cry. Though his eyes watered, his face was stern, never straying away from the carpet. “I came here every night. I watched you through the window. You drank your tea and you watched the TV until you couldn’t keep your eyes open any longer. I got nervous of being sighted, so I picked up smoking. Originally, I only did it at your place, but it got a little out of hand. I started only waiting for the night, so I could come see you and be with you. The night of the party, I just stood out here most of the time. I felt unwanted and uncomfortable in the house. I felt like I was wasting my time. That night, I dreamed of the cabin in the woods and your hiding spot by the chimney and us. From then on, I lived for nighttime. I could see you and then go home and dream of you again. Today, I woke up. I threw away my pack of cigarettes. And I don’t know what made me do it, but I drove four and a half hours to the cabin. I sat up on the roof, just thinking of you next to me. I fell asleep. I thought I would have the realest, most wonderful dream but I didn’t dream at all. I woke up sunburned and sad. But that’s when I thought about it. If I wanted to be with you so bad, why couldn’t I just actually be with YOU, instead of window Ryan or dream Ryan. I want to be with real Ryan, body and spirit.” Brendon put his head in his hands. He couldn’t look at him. He didn’t cry, but instead his breath became broken and distressed.

“Brendon, look at me,” Ryan said. He didn’t touch Brendon, but he just ordered it.

Brendon lifted his watery eyes to Ryan’s. His face was unyielding. He took a big sigh out his nose. “Do you like me that way?” His voice shook slightly and he almost seemed angry.

Brendon looked him straight in the eyes, “Ryan, I love you that way. And I know you don’t feel the same way, but all I’ve wanted to do is tell you. You have no idea how great this feels just finally realizing all of this.” He smiled big and it showed in his eyes.

Ryan still looked rigid. He looked down to the bedspread.

“5…4…3…2…1! Happy New Ever!” the TV screamed back in the living room, making itself only audible in this silence.

“Happy New Year, Ryan,” Brendon’s voice was pure and happy.

Ryan looked up into Brendon’s eyes. He didn’t speak, he didn’t blink, and he barely even breathed. He leaned into Brendon and kissed his soft lips.

Brendon closed his eyes and let himself melt into Ryan. His mind kind of just numbed and he couldn’t think of anything. All he could focus on was the feeling of Ryan’s lips against his. It was like nothing his dream could bring him. It made every hour of the past month and a half become almost important. He was finally getting what he wanted; Ryan, body and spirit.

Ryan broke their kiss. He got up and Brendon heard the television shut off. Ryan came back in, “Where were we?”

He pushed Brendon down on the bed and slipped underneath the covers. Brendon made his way to the underside of the sheets and reached out his arms pulling Ryan close to him in the darkness. He kissed him again and held his body against his own. They continued like this until their lips and eyelids hurt. Then, they drifted to sleep in each other’s arms.

Brendon awoke the next morning with a sleeping Ryan tucked between his arms. His hair did smell like wildflowers and Brendon had woken up smiling, just like he always wanted to.

“I am feeling good
And I'm singing in my sleep when you're around; will you comfort me?
I'll dream of you
And the smile that you give to me”