Can We Fast-Forward?

“So, I think it’s been pretty clear the past couple of weeks that this isn’t working. We’re too divided on what we want to do as a band for the next album. You guys want one way and we want the other. That’s why I think I need to get this out,” Ryan says, leaning against the archway of the kitchen. “Jon and I are leaving.”

Brendon, previously entranced by the bowl of Lucky Charms he was spooning through, looks up and raises an eyebrow. “Where are you going?”

Watching in silent horror, Stephanie stops pouring herself a glass of Kool-Aid and eyes the group of boys occupying her and Spencer’s apartment. She sees Jon and Ryan’s expression become blank as they stare at the clueless, younger boy.

“We’re not ‘going’ anywhere,” Jon stresses and scratches at the back of his neck. “We’re leaving you guys. The band. It’s just—It’s just not working anymore. It was fun for awhile, but Ryan and I have different musical tastes then you guys and we want to write something similar to Pretty. Odd. And it’s obvious that you and Spencer want to scratch that and go back to the ‘Fever’ era.”

Complete silence overtakes the kitchen and Stephanie doesn’t realize she’s over-pouring her cup until she hears the slosh of liquid that hits her bare foot. Mouth agape, she looks over at Brendon, and feels her heart ache at the lost look upon his childish face.

“Wh—What?”

Ryan huffs and stares down the other boy. “Do we really need to explain this further, Brendon? Jon and I are leaving. As in, we’re not going to be apart of Panic anymore.”

Off to Stephanie’s side, Spencer’s glaring at the duo in the archway and tightening his jaw to the point where it hurts. She watches him of the corner of her eye as his slim hands form tight fists on the counter-top.

“Your fucking loss, then,” Brendon seethes and pushes himself up from the table, getting in the guitarist face. “This is what you always do, Ross. When something doesn’t go the way you plan, you drop it in an instant. But fine, go and leave. Take your lyrics that no one can fucking understand and shove them up your stuck up ass.”

“Brendon…” both Stephanie and Spencer murmur as Ryan’s posture turns into complete hostility.

“No, shut up and let me finish,” Brendon snaps at them, without taking his eyes off of the lanky boy. He pushes at Ryan’s chest, knocking him into the wall, showing off that he’s not always the giddy, little front man that everyone makes him out to be. “You’ve been nothing but an asshole to me and Spencer—you know, your childhood best friend. Or did you forget that while you prance around with your little indie friends? So, you’re going to leave him, me and our fans? Good job, Ross. When this blows up in your face, don’t you or Jon--” Brendon narrows his eyes at the calm boy to his right, “—come crawling back to us when you’re broke with no label.”

Nostrils flaring in anger, Ryan roughly shoves Brendon away from him. “Are you done?”

“Actually, no. You can get the fuck out now.”

Ryan smiles wickedly and crosses his slim arms across his chest. “This isn’t your apartment. You have no rule.”

“Get. Out.”

Everyone in the room, including Stephanie, looks over at Spencer in shock. His face was beet red from his anger and the veins in his arms start popping out due to the tight fists he’s sporting.

Eyebrows furrowing in confusion, Ryan gazes at the tall brunette. “What?”

Spencer straightens his posture and points to the front door. “Don’t act like you didn’t understand what I said. Get. Out.”

“Seriously, Spencer? You’re going to side with him and ruin our years of friendship--”

“What ‘friendship’?”

Hurt etches across Ryan’s face and Jon tugs at the sleeve of his button up shirt.

“Let’s just go,” he says and pulls the guitarist with him towards the door. When Ryan hesitates, Jon tugs harder and says harshly, “I said let’s go, Ryan.”

With a growl, Ryan turns on his heel and stomps after Jon.

“Oh, and Ryan?” Stephanie hears Brendon calls out with a devious grin on his face.

The said boy glares through the cut-out in the wall, giving him a perfect view of the three that were still standing in their previous spots. “What, Urie?”

Brendon’s grin, if possible, becomes wider and he gets a sudden glint in his eyes. “You got a little something under your nose. Might want to wipe it off before someone suspects something.”

The next sound they all hear is the front door slamming and then—

Then it was silence.

But, Stephanie was the first to break it with a loud exhale through her mouth. “Uh. What just happened?”

“Panic just became a two man band,” Spencer says bitterly and walks out of the room into their living room. “I’m sure Pete will love this.”

---x---

Later that night, after a three hour long phone call with Pete, Brendon let with a sad smile and thumbs up as he walks out the front door.

Once they had the apartment to themselves, Stephanie turns towards Spencer and entangles her fingers gently with his. “It’s going to be okay, you know that, right?”

“Lets—” Spencer pauses and takes his hand out of Stephanie, walking down the dimly lit hallway that leads to their room. “Let’s just go to bed.”

“Spencer…”

“Seriously, Steph. I just want to sleep.”

The girl’s face crumbles when Spencer—her boyfriend of four years— walks away, down the hallway and into their room. She hesitates following after him, not wanting to see how upset he is at how everything turned out.

Stephanie remembers the sickening rehearsals of recording.

---x---

“No!” Ryan yelled, stopping everything mid-song. “That’s not how I want you to fucking sing it, Brendon. You need to have emotion in your voice. Christ, you can’t even pronounce the words right.”

Stephanie watched from the couch in the recording studio as Brendon flinched from behind the piano.

“Well,” he mumbled, “maybe if you didn’t sit down and read the dictionary, trying to look for the most completed word for ‘love’, then we wouldn’t have this problem.”

“Maybe if you didn’t almost fail high school, then wouldn’t have ‘this problem’.”

Standing up and adjusting her red-framed glasses, Stephanie laughed awkwardly. “How about we take a time out and go grab lunch. You know, to clear our heads or—”

Ryan glared at the younger girl. “We’re not going anywhere until we get this right. Go back to the couch and sit the fuck back down.”

Stephanie’s mouth dropped open as she stared at the guitarist. In response, her eyes narrowed to deathly slits. “Excuse me?”

“I said, ‘go sit down’ and while you’re at it, shut your—”

“Ryan!” Spencer yelled from behind his drum kit and stood, making his way over to the fuming girl. “Knock it off. She didn’t do anything. She’s right. We need to take a break before Brendon punches another hole in the wall. Last time I checked, we need him to play piano and guitar.”

Off to in the corner, Jon’s plucking out random notes on his bass.

Ryan raised his chin up, trying to make himself seem taller then Spencer. “Well, you guys can go. Jon and I staying here, because you know, we’re actually committed to making music.”

Next to her, Stephanie hears Spencer mutter out a few curses at the man.

“Thank God,” Brendon said and got up. “I’m starving and my head is starting to hurt from playing this song over and over again.”

He grabbed his jacket and started off towards Stephanie and Spencer.

But, Ryan interrupted him mid-step.

“No. Come to think of it, you’re staying, too.”

Brendon turned around and gave him a bewildered look. “What?”

“You’re not going anywhere until you get the vocals right.”

Stephanie turned fully towards Spencer and raised an eyebrow, which he returned.

The singer laughed and nodded. “Yeah, okay, Ross. Sorry to burst your ego, but I’m going to get something to eat.”

“No.”

Brendon clenched his jaw and sat heavily down at the piano bench, hitting the keys harder then usual with his nimble fingers. “Fucking prick,” he muttered and started off the song.

Spencer grabbed Stephanie’s hand and dragged her out of the studio—but not without her smiling sadly at Brendon’s pout that he shot at them.

“I don’t know how much more I can take of this.”

Stephanie looked up at her boyfriend and stood on the tips of her feet, kissing him softly. “This is going to work out. All things happen for a reason.”

---x---

Stephanie snaps out of it and sighs.

She knows it was bound to happen someday—with all the constant bickering and fighting. Just, she was hoping that it wouldn’t end quite like it did earlier today. Not with the words that were carelessly thrown around. But, she knows she can’t stop it and go back in time to make it more peaceful per say.

Shaking the thoughts from her head, Stephanie slowly walks down the long hallway that leads into their bedroom. As she walks, she looks down at the floor below her feet, watching as they shuffle across the soft carpet.

Stephanie silently enters the dark room and shuts the door quietly behind her. She looks up to see Spencer already lying down in their bed, his back towards her. But judging by the way he’s breathing, he was far from being asleep.

Changing quickly out of her day clothes, Stephanie pulls on a baggy shirt and sweatpants. The entire time, Spencer didn’t even acknowledge her presence. So, Stephanie just pulls back the bed covers and lays down gently with her head turned, staring at Spencer’s back.

Getting enough courage, Stephanie hooks her chin over his shoulder and finds his hand underneath the blanket, twining her fingers with his and squeezing.

“I know you don’t feel like talking right now, but just listen to me,” Stephanie whispers and tries to make out his facial expression in the dark. “I know this band was everything to you. But splitting up doesn’t mean it’s over. Between your drumming and song writing and Brendon’s singing, along with his lyrics and music, you guys are going to be fine. Maybe even better then what things were before. You just have to wait it out. Sure, people are going to be pissed. But, you and Brendon have so many loyal fans that will stick by your side through thick and thin. This isn’t the end. Maybe it’s just the beginning.”

Slowly, Spencer turns to face her, keeping their hands locked together as he leans his head against hers. “It’ll get better right?”

Stephanie squeezes his hand in a death lock and nods, softly. “Yeah. It will.”