Tragedy

Seven weeks had passed. Three surgeries and the doctor telling us countless times that we’d have to thank god he’d gone through every surgery with fairly stable vitals. Countless times he’d told us we could do nothing but wait, whether he would wake up anytime soon or I don’t know. But nevertheless, he’d be stable and so far, yep he’d been very stable. Five days after what happened, Jon and I decided we’d stay in this city for a while. We informed everyone we knew about our decision and they never said anything against it. The first night we stayed here, when Jon ran away from us, I thought he wasn’t coming back. Since then and up to now I’d only been very glad he never let us down, and honestly, if it weren’t for him and for Spencer I didn’t know how I would be able to keep myself alive and sane through the past seven weeks.

He returned that night; he’d been sleeping in the backseat of the car in the parking lot with me since, while I drowned myself in thoughts in the front seat. Our friends offered us a place to stay but we refused. It was our own decision to stay anyway, we wanted to be able to take care of ourselves on our own since most of them also were going through a bad situation like us. We’d been forcing ourselves to sleep most of the nights we had spent here so far, and then we figured we could use the time inappropriate to visit Brendon to earn ourselves something we could use to prolong our stay here.

Remember the inn? Well, we didn’t exactly apply as performers in there, but around the corner near the inn lined four to five restaurants, most of which were open 24/7, and they had a slot for another performer. This time, Jon and I decided we could count as one, we’d both play the guitar and sing together. The pay was fine, they actually even raised it, thanks to one of the assistant managers of the restaurants there who informed the others who we were, or who we used to be, that we used to be in Panic! and you know, somehow they had heard of it. We weren’t even after the pay and all, since we didn’t have anything to spend money on as well. Just, food. That was it. It was more of an escape at night, since we thought it was an ungodly time to be spent in the hospital, and somehow playing and singing made us forget some of the things that were bothering us.

“I just don’t want to miss you tonight,” I whispered on the mic, Jon strumming just beside me, his eyes too fixed on his guitar.

And I don’t want the world to see me,
‘Cause I don’t think that they’d understand
When everything’s meant to be broken,
I just want you to know who I am.

The wind stung the back of my neck every time it blew just like it always did every night we performed outside, but it had always been comforting. It stung my face too but I welcomed it.

Jon and I were just about ready to leave the stage after the last song when I saw Rod, our manager, downstage gesturing and mouthing that there was a phone call for either me or Jon inside. I called Jon’s attention and asked, “Anyone know the number inside?”

“I told some, Spence and the others. I told them yesterday to use it if they needed to call us, my phone’s acting fucked up, why?” he asked, as he tried packing his guitar into the case.

“Oh, ‘cause I think someone just called,” I said, as I started down the steps.

“And, your phone?”

“Been missing for two nights now,” I reached for the door of the diner and heard him following heavily behind me.

“Oh, really?” he stopped.

“Yes, really,”

He sprinted towards the receiver placed above the counter, grabbed it, but he didn’t put it against his ear yet.

“Who gets to say ‘hello’?”

“Me,” I snatched the receiver and turned my back on him, and I heard him whisper, ’Wow, thank you,’. “Hey, it’s Ryan.”

“Hey, Ry. It’s Spencer,” he sounded like he was on for a very casual conversation.

“Oh, hey. You need to tell us something?”

“Yes, yes. Uh, wait. Are you finished performing yet? Or did I have to pull you off from the stage?” he sounded casual so I knew it was nothing as important as I was expecting it to be.

“No, don’t worry about it. We just finished and were about to leave for the parking lot already, why?”

“Okay, good,” he said, and added, “But you might want to come here first.”

“Why?” I shifted my gaze to Jon, who just raised an eyebrow on me.

“Just… you have to.” Spencer’s voice was low, I just noticed, but it had always been low.

“Do we need to worry?”

Then there was a pause.

“Nah. I don’t know, really. Just… don’t expect anything, alright?”

Then Spencer hung up.

Honestly, he shouldn’t worry about us expecting anything because really, I had no idea what to expect.
.
.
.
.
Damn. Just damn it. I mean, fuck, Spencer could have at least given us an idea what to expect.

Thoughts were running inside my head as I stood there, unable to move, Brendon’s eyes on me, and mine locked on his. I swear I stood there for an eternity just staring, and Jon was doing the same behind me. Someone please break the fucking silence.

It took so long before Brendon finally moved a bit, his head turning to his left and up where his mother stood.

Mrs. Urie first looked at me and Jon for a moment longer than expected before she turned to his son. Then she spoke, “It’s Ryan and Jon.”

I thought I saw Brendon mouth an ‘Oh,’ . He looked at us again before turning back to Mrs. Urie. I thought he mouthed, ‘Jon’.

“Walker,” Mrs. Urie whispered.

I turned to look at Spencer, who just smiled and bowed his head, his feet shuffling on the floor.

‘And Ryan?’ I could make out what Brendon asked Mrs. Urie next, before she replied “Ross. Ryan Ross.”

Now, I knew there was something wrong.