I'll Be
Love Suicide
It shouldn’t have ended up this way.
His gaze fell gently upon that of the sleeping boy next to him; those closed deep-set eyes, that angular button nose, those cheekbones and a jaw line that could cause a paper cut, and those lovely expressive lips. It should have been illegal to have such a perfect face, he couldn’t help but muse.
His gaze didn’t waver as he reminisced on the events of the previous night, the memories hazy but vindictive, like the sharp sting of cigarette smoke when it’s inhaled.
There had been a party (isn’t there always?) Brendon, laughing, drunk; he, not so different. The buzz of alcohol, the overwhelming wave of lust, need. Fingers scrambling to fit the room card into the slot as lips and tongues messily descended upon each other. Crisp white sheets, stained with sweat and sweetness. Brendon’s back, smooth and pale and hollow in the cliché moonlight that peeked through the curtains. Hoarse moans and shattered cries of pleasure. The intoxication of their proximity sending them to climax.
Then, a voice, three whispered words said so lowly, saccharine and slow, making his heart burst.
“I love you.”
He vaguely wondered if it was that phrase dripping from those lips that made him come at the end.
Brendon loved him. Brendon Urie, frontman of Panic! at the Disco; Brendon Urie, sometimes a child, always the only man he could give himself to; Brendon Urie, his best friend (or is it lover now?); Brendon Urie, forever his voice, speaking, singing the words he could never say.
Ryan hadn’t answered, elated and still in shock, but it didn’t really matter then since Brendon fell asleep from exhaustion right after anyway. Now, he was contemplating his reply, the one that would seal the deal, and their life, together.
Sparkling russet eyes fluttered open and the countdown reached zero. Brendon looked up at him gently, ad Ryan felt himself melting on the sheets, marking it with his dirty, unworthy self. He didn’t deserve to witness something, someone so beautiful at their most vulnerable state.
“Morning,” Brendon murmured, nuzzling into him and brushing his lips against his cheek.
“Morning,” Ryan said, little shivers of bliss crawling on his skin. “I lo—“
“How was last night?” Brendon asked fleetingly, tracing circles on Ryan’s flesh. Just when Ryan was about to blurt out ‘Wonderful! Amazing! The best night I’ve ever lived,’ Brendon laughed.
“Because I don’t remember.”
For an instant Ryan was confused, and as Brendon continued to stare at him expectantly, distantly, he realized the gravity of what he was about to say, the things he was about to promise, the hurt he was about to bargain for.
His mind flashed back to last night, to the details he had ignored because of his foolish happiness. Brendon’s empty, intoxicated eyes, the carelessness of his voice as he whispered those three stupid words.
No, Ryan shook his head as he tasted salt on his tongue. I was the stupid one.
Brendon’s expression turned anxious as he saw tears about to spill from Ryan’s brown eyes.
“Ry? W-what’s wrong?”
Ryan turned away, his insides disintegrating. Brendon put his hands on his shoulders, but that soft touch burned, hurt him more than any knife or candle.
“Ry?” Brendon’s tone was now evidently laced with be concern and guilt. Little did either of them know, it would be tinged with regret soon, once he realizes that he failed to mention that he did mean those three little words he muttered to his best friend in the height of passion.
“Was it something I said?”
That did it for Ryan, and he searched wildly for his boxers, which lay forgotten on the floor, and stood up, taking a sheet to wrap around his privates, dashing to the bathroom and shutting the door behind him (what else has he to hide? Where else had he gotten his pride? Well, if that wasn’t a joke he didn’t know what was).
The lock clicked into place and he leaned on the door, sinking to the floor, his palm covering his eyes as his shoulders shook uncontrollably.
Mistake, Ryan’s mind yelled. Mistake. He couldn’t tell if his consciousness was referring to last night, or this moment. Maybe it was both.
His gaze fell gently upon that of the sleeping boy next to him; those closed deep-set eyes, that angular button nose, those cheekbones and a jaw line that could cause a paper cut, and those lovely expressive lips. It should have been illegal to have such a perfect face, he couldn’t help but muse.
His gaze didn’t waver as he reminisced on the events of the previous night, the memories hazy but vindictive, like the sharp sting of cigarette smoke when it’s inhaled.
There had been a party (isn’t there always?) Brendon, laughing, drunk; he, not so different. The buzz of alcohol, the overwhelming wave of lust, need. Fingers scrambling to fit the room card into the slot as lips and tongues messily descended upon each other. Crisp white sheets, stained with sweat and sweetness. Brendon’s back, smooth and pale and hollow in the cliché moonlight that peeked through the curtains. Hoarse moans and shattered cries of pleasure. The intoxication of their proximity sending them to climax.
Then, a voice, three whispered words said so lowly, saccharine and slow, making his heart burst.
“I love you.”
He vaguely wondered if it was that phrase dripping from those lips that made him come at the end.
Brendon loved him. Brendon Urie, frontman of Panic! at the Disco; Brendon Urie, sometimes a child, always the only man he could give himself to; Brendon Urie, his best friend (or is it lover now?); Brendon Urie, forever his voice, speaking, singing the words he could never say.
Ryan hadn’t answered, elated and still in shock, but it didn’t really matter then since Brendon fell asleep from exhaustion right after anyway. Now, he was contemplating his reply, the one that would seal the deal, and their life, together.
Sparkling russet eyes fluttered open and the countdown reached zero. Brendon looked up at him gently, ad Ryan felt himself melting on the sheets, marking it with his dirty, unworthy self. He didn’t deserve to witness something, someone so beautiful at their most vulnerable state.
“Morning,” Brendon murmured, nuzzling into him and brushing his lips against his cheek.
“Morning,” Ryan said, little shivers of bliss crawling on his skin. “I lo—“
“How was last night?” Brendon asked fleetingly, tracing circles on Ryan’s flesh. Just when Ryan was about to blurt out ‘Wonderful! Amazing! The best night I’ve ever lived,’ Brendon laughed.
“Because I don’t remember.”
For an instant Ryan was confused, and as Brendon continued to stare at him expectantly, distantly, he realized the gravity of what he was about to say, the things he was about to promise, the hurt he was about to bargain for.
His mind flashed back to last night, to the details he had ignored because of his foolish happiness. Brendon’s empty, intoxicated eyes, the carelessness of his voice as he whispered those three stupid words.
No, Ryan shook his head as he tasted salt on his tongue. I was the stupid one.
Brendon’s expression turned anxious as he saw tears about to spill from Ryan’s brown eyes.
“Ry? W-what’s wrong?”
Ryan turned away, his insides disintegrating. Brendon put his hands on his shoulders, but that soft touch burned, hurt him more than any knife or candle.
“Ry?” Brendon’s tone was now evidently laced with be concern and guilt. Little did either of them know, it would be tinged with regret soon, once he realizes that he failed to mention that he did mean those three little words he muttered to his best friend in the height of passion.
“Was it something I said?”
That did it for Ryan, and he searched wildly for his boxers, which lay forgotten on the floor, and stood up, taking a sheet to wrap around his privates, dashing to the bathroom and shutting the door behind him (what else has he to hide? Where else had he gotten his pride? Well, if that wasn’t a joke he didn’t know what was).
The lock clicked into place and he leaned on the door, sinking to the floor, his palm covering his eyes as his shoulders shook uncontrollably.
Mistake, Ryan’s mind yelled. Mistake. He couldn’t tell if his consciousness was referring to last night, or this moment. Maybe it was both.