The Last Safe Place on Earth.
you come beating like moth's wings.
Ryan and Brendon stood outside the bus, staring at the sky. The sun was sinking and there were pinks and purples and golds and every color in the sky and the clouds and if they had been able to catch the light on their fingertips like raindrops, it may have carried the same hues.
"It would be easier if you wouldn't pretend all the time." Brendon said suddenly, his voice like fine sand, good for burying your feet in, but awful because you track it back inside with you and it never goes away.
"Like you've ever known me when I wasn't pretending." Ryan whispered back. His voice was different; thick like molasses and almost as dark. Bitter, too.
The younger boy sighed, the heavy sort of sigh that catches in your throat like when you've been crying, except he hadn't been crying. "You're not as good of an actor as you think you are, Ross."
"And you're not as smart as you think you are, Urie."
They were children. Nineteen and twenty and no one near as old as they thought they were. One thought like he was older and acted like a child if you were quiet enough. One thought like a child and acted like an adult if he loved you enough. Dress up for grown ups. We're all something we think we're not and vice versa.
Brendon let his hand swing out, his fingertips grazing Ryan's arm before fumbling awkwardly to grab the other boy's wrist and make it seem fluid and smooth, intentional. The sky was darkening with increasing speed now, all too convenient for an excuse to be made. "Hypothetically speaking," he started, voice lower now, scared and trying not to be, "if someone like me were to like someone like you would the affections be returned?"
"You assume a lot." Ryan let Brendon hold his hand for another minute, almost squeezing once, before squinting at the darkness neither of them could deny now. "We should go back inside."
"It's safe here." Brendon protested, looking for his own excuse, his own reason.
Ryan never bought it. "It's not safe anywhere, B. Especially not here."
The last part wasn't spoken, but Brendon heard it anyway. 'Especially not with you.'
Ryan climbed into his bunk when they reentered the bus, slipping his earphones in and sliding his thumb along the wheel of his iPod until it stopped on one of their old demos. It was the last safe place on earth, Brendon's voice singing his words. And once the younger boy figured that out, everything would be okay.
"It would be easier if you wouldn't pretend all the time." Brendon said suddenly, his voice like fine sand, good for burying your feet in, but awful because you track it back inside with you and it never goes away.
"Like you've ever known me when I wasn't pretending." Ryan whispered back. His voice was different; thick like molasses and almost as dark. Bitter, too.
The younger boy sighed, the heavy sort of sigh that catches in your throat like when you've been crying, except he hadn't been crying. "You're not as good of an actor as you think you are, Ross."
"And you're not as smart as you think you are, Urie."
They were children. Nineteen and twenty and no one near as old as they thought they were. One thought like he was older and acted like a child if you were quiet enough. One thought like a child and acted like an adult if he loved you enough. Dress up for grown ups. We're all something we think we're not and vice versa.
Brendon let his hand swing out, his fingertips grazing Ryan's arm before fumbling awkwardly to grab the other boy's wrist and make it seem fluid and smooth, intentional. The sky was darkening with increasing speed now, all too convenient for an excuse to be made. "Hypothetically speaking," he started, voice lower now, scared and trying not to be, "if someone like me were to like someone like you would the affections be returned?"
"You assume a lot." Ryan let Brendon hold his hand for another minute, almost squeezing once, before squinting at the darkness neither of them could deny now. "We should go back inside."
"It's safe here." Brendon protested, looking for his own excuse, his own reason.
Ryan never bought it. "It's not safe anywhere, B. Especially not here."
The last part wasn't spoken, but Brendon heard it anyway. 'Especially not with you.'
Ryan climbed into his bunk when they reentered the bus, slipping his earphones in and sliding his thumb along the wheel of his iPod until it stopped on one of their old demos. It was the last safe place on earth, Brendon's voice singing his words. And once the younger boy figured that out, everything would be okay.