But It's Better If You Do

Ryan knew that people expected him to miss the Panic days. Ryan knew that people expected him to go back. Surely he would change his mind. The decision to leave had to be temporary.

But it wasn't.

Ryan had started Panic with Spencer. Two best friends with one great idea to make music. To make beautiful music that made them happy. And at first, they were.

When Brent joined, they were happy. Even when Brendon, perfect Brendon, joined, they were happy. They were all happy.

Then Ryan started to question things.

Brendon was singing Ryan's words. Ryan's words about things that Brendon didn't know about. Things that Brendon didn't even know were real; things Brendon thought were just words of a song were things Ryan had really experienced, really lived through.

Ryan was snapped out of his memories by Jon. "Are you okay?" he asked. Ryan looked up at him with his honey-colored eyes.

"Huh? Oh, yeah. I'm fine," he replied, plastering a smile to his face. Jon nodded and walked away.

Of course, he wasn't fine. He didn't think he would ever be fine. His whole life had been spent hiding. First it was hiding from his father. And then it was hiding from the truth. And then it became hiding from Brendon. But now, well, Ryan didn't even know what he was hiding from anymore.

He didn't know what was real; in Ryan's mind, frankly, nothing was real. This whole thing was a made up, make-believe world.

In the real world, fathers wouldn't hit their sons. In a real world, Ryan wouldn't have to lie to people about his childhood. In a real world, Brendon wouldn't have hurt Ryan. In a real world, Ryan would be happy.

But this, this painful existence, this couldn't be the real world. Ryan refused to accept it. People weren't this cruel. People couldn't be this cruel, because if they were, well, Ryan wasn't so sure he could handle that.

Ryan remembered the first time Brendon had ever hurt him. It wasn't intentional, but it hurt.

"Hey, Ryan, what do you write these songs about?" he asked after he had finished reading Build God, Then We'll Talk.

Ryan looked at him, surprised he didn't know. Surely he and everyone else in the band knew why Ryan's mother had left, why Ryan disliked physical contact, why Ryan never talked about his family.

"It's just something that..." Ryan began, but realized that maybe he didn't want Brendon to know. "I have really weird dreams sometimes and they just turn into songs," he whispered.

"Yeah, well, this is some dark stuff. Lighten up, man, you have nothing to be depressed about," Brendon said, as though he knew Ryan's life story. As though he had gone through the same torture Ryan had endured for twelve years.

Ryan knew Brendon hadn't meant it. He didn't know. He just didn't know, and he couldn't help that. Ryan had never told him; he couldn't expect Brendon to know everything.

Then again, Jon had guessed. Jon figured it out and he'd known Ryan for the least amount of time. Maybe that's why they were such good friends. Maybe you could only be friends with someone who knew. Maybe.

Or maybe that was in the real world. In the real world, there would be no lies. In Ryan's make-believe world, lies were everything. Maybe it was because Jon had been the first person to ever see past Ryan's fake smile and covered up bruises. Or maybe it was just that Brendon hadn't seen through him.

"Why are you acting so crazy?!" Brendon yelled across the basement.

"W-what do you mean?" Ryan asked, tentatively. Brendon was yelling too loud; it was giving Ryan a headache and he couldn't breathe.

"I walk in the room, try to give you a hug because I haven't seen you in two weeks, and you freak out. You're being a freak and I want to know why!" Brendon yelled. Ryan got angry. He didn't like the word freak.

"Don't call me a freak! And it's not hard to figure out why I freaked out, but you're too thick-headed to see it!" Ryan replied, he voice raised as loud as Brendon's.

"What the fuck do you mean?" Brendon screamed.

"Nothing. I don't mean anything. Because if you cared, you'd know," Ryan said, a calmer tone taking over. He strode past Brendon towards the door.

A vice-like grip grabbed his arm and he yelled. He screamed and he couldn't help it. The pain...it was too much. Jon walked in after hearing the scream; Brendon didn't loosen his grip.

"What happened? Ryan are you-" his eyes landed on Brendon's hand. "Let him go, B."

Brendon released his hand. "He's acting like a freak and I was just-"

"Don't call him a freak!" Jon screamed. "Don't EVER call him a freak!"

"Whoa, calm the fuck down!" Brendon said.

Ryan ran out of the room with tears in his eyes.

Maybe that was when Jon became his best friend. Maybe it was because Jon knew what upset him more than Brendon ever had. It scared him. Brendon was supposed to be his best friend.

Everyone thought so, anyway.

Ryan was snapped out of his thoughts yet again.

"Truth or dare, Ryan?" keyboardist Nick asked him. Ryan shrugged.

"Truth, I guess," he answered.

Truth or dare. The ultimate game to ruin lives. Ryan always picked truth and always told the truth. He was never asked about things he wanted to hide.

"I have one!" drummer Nick yelled. "Did you and Brendon ever kiss?"

"Well, yeah, we kissed on stage all the time," Ryan answered.

"No, no, no. I mean, did you ever really kiss?" Nick asked. Ryan stared at him in shock. The rest of the guys laughed, after all, the idea of Ryan and Brendon kissing was simply preposterous, though they all assumed it was true.

"I'm sorry, Ry. I'm sorry I called you a freak. I don't believe that and you know it. It's just, you and me are best friends, right? I was just upset cause I thought you were hiding something and I thought we didn't have secrets and-"

"Bren, calm down. You're still my best friend," lie, "I'm not hiding anything. I have no secrets from you," another lie.

"Oh. Ryro?" Brendon whispered.

"Yeah, Bden?" Ryan replied.

"I-I uh...I don't know how to..." he began but before he could finish, his lips were on Ryan's and Ryan didn't stop him. It felt good. Brendon tasted good. It was better than anything Ryan had ever felt.

The door opened with a bang. "WHAT THE FUCK?!" Ryan's dad screamed. Ryan jumped and quivered in the corner.

"I-Dad, I-"

"You fucking faggot! I thought I raised you right," he spat.

"Yeah, because that could be called raising me!" Ryan screamed. The fire in George Ryan Ross II's eyes was burning.

"I guess if you can't take the kid from the fight, you gotta take the fight from the kid," he said. Ryan stood tall, trying not to look frightened. That was when the first blow hit him.

"Brendon, run!" Ryan yelled. Brendon obeyed, not stopping to look back.

That was the last time Ryan let Brendon hurt him.

"No, we never kissed," Ryan said in all seriousness. All laughter died down.

"Bullshit," Andy said.

Ryan looked at him with disbelieving eyes. "What do you mean?"

"I mean-"

"Shut up, Andy. If Ryan says they didn't kiss, then they didn't fucking kiss," Jon cuts in, standing up for Ryan like he always did. Like he always would because he was the best friend that Brendon claimed to be and never was.

"Brendon and I never kissed, and frankly, I never wanted to kiss him. We were friends, and that's it," Ryan said.

And Ryan realized that the lie slipped through his lips as easily as every lie ever had. After all, in Ryan's world, lying was everything.

***

When Jon went to check on Ryan later that night, he found Ryan standing in front of his mirror, a paintbrush clenched in his right hand, a can of red paint at his feet.

He watched as Ryan dipped the bristles in the paint and used it to draw four letters on the mirror.

L-I-A-R.