You’ve Never Had Time for Me, Now I Don’t Have Time for You
You’ve Never Had Time For Me, Now I Don’t Have Tim
Disclaimer: I don’t own Ryan, Brendon, or their family members.
“Ryan! Phone!”
Ryan picked up the phone, a large smile on his face. He figured it was Brendon, calling to see if he could come over. But Ryan had plans. His dad had promised, promised, that he was coming in for the weekend, that they’d do something special.
“Hello?” Ryan greeted.
“Hey, son.”
Ryan’s smile faded. No, not again.
“H-Hey, Dad… What’s up?”
“Look, Ryan, I can’t make it this weekend. I’ve got a flat tire…”
Ryan bowed his head. Every single time. It was always a flat tire, a broken transmission, a funeral, bad weather, or some other random thing. Excuse after excuse to why he couldn’t make the three-hour drive down to see his son.
“N-No problem, Dad… Next weekend?”
“I’ve got to work… I’ll make it down sometime.”
There was a click and the phone went dead. No good-bye, no words of love.
Ryan stood up and pulled on a hoodie. He ran downstairs and opened the front door, ready to step out.
“Was that your father?” Ryan’s mother asked.
Ryan sighed and nodded. “He’s not going to be able to make it down this weekend.”
“Oh, honey…”
“Forget it.” Ryan shrugged. “I’m going to Brendon’s.”
Brendon lived three houses down and across the street. Ryan was there in seconds, knocking on the door.
Mrs. Urie answered. “Ryan! What a surprise… I thought your father was coming down this weekend?”
Ryan forced a smile. “He can’t make it down this weekend… Flat tire.”
“Oh… Well, come on it. Brendon’s up in his room.”
Ryan nodded and took the stairs two at a time. He didn’t bother knocking on Brendon’s door, just opened it and walked in.
Brendon was sitting at his computer desk, doodling in a sketchpad. He looked up and frowned when Ryan walked in. He didn’t say anything, just walked over to shut and locked his door before directing Ryan to his bed.
Brendon wrapped his arms around Ryan’s small body and pulled him close. Ryan rested his head on Brendon’s shoulder, tears rolling silently down his cheeks. His tears grew into body-shaking sobs. Brendon just held him closer, tighter.
“Shhh, Ryan…” Brendon murmured into Ryan’s ear.
“I-I just d-don’t g-get it.” Ryan sobbed, “Why d-doesn’t he l-love me?”
Brendon sighed, “I don’t know, Ry… I really don’t know. You’re a beautiful person, inside and out. You’ve got a big heart, so easily broken. He should treasure you; he should take care of you. He should be there for you when your heart is broken, not be the reason your heart is breaking.”
Ryan sniffled. “Why are you so good to me?”
Brendon tightened his embrace momentarily. “Because I do love you.”
Ryan smiled softly, wiping the remnants of his tears away. “Thank you, Bren.”
“Anytime, Ryan. I’ll always be there to pick up the pieces.”
“I’m on my way, Ryan. I’ll be there in a few hours, I promise.” Ryan’s father told him over the phone.
“Okay.” Ryan mumbled. He didn’t really believe his father’s words, but he couldn’t help the way his hopes rose. Maybe he would show up this time.
Ryan hung the phone up and laid down on his bed. He listened to the music from his CD player, the Smashing Pumpkins. Slowly, he fell asleep.
Ryan blinked open his eyes. He stretched out and glanced at the clock. He shot up in bed, throwing back his covers. He cursed under his breath and ran downstairs. His mother was sitting at the kitchen table.
“Mom? Did Dad show up?”
Ryan’s mother looked up at him and shook her head. “Not yet, honey.”
Ryan sighed, his face falling. He should have known better than to hope. He re-climbed the stairs slowly, dragging his feet a bit. He pulled on some clean clothes before going back downstairs.
“I’m going to Brendon’s.” He said, not bothering to wait for a response form his mother. Ryan didn’t knock on Brendon’s door. It was fairly early and he didn’t want to wake up Brendon’s parents. Instead, he climbed up the large tree in their front yard and tapped on Brendon’s bedroom window.
Brendon groaned as the sound pulled him from sleep. He blinked open his eyes and peered over at Ryan. He rose from bed and crossed the room, opening the window for Ryan.
“Ryan, its seven… Too early.”
Ryan shrugged, lying down on Brendon’s bed. “My dad didn’t show up.”
Brendon sighed and joined Ryan, wrapping his arms around him. “I’m sorry, Ry…”
As always, slow, silent tears came first, developing quickly into sobs. Ryan buried his face into the crook of Brendon’s neck. Brendon held him a little tighter and combed his fingers through Ryan’s short hair.
Ryan pulled away, wiping his eyes. He stared at Brendon for a minute. “Um… You’re not dressed.”
Brendon rolled his eyes. “Well, you did wake me up.”
“Oh… Um, I’ll just… Go…” Ryan muttered, blushing.
“Stay, Ryan. I can easily get dressed.”
Ryan nodded. “O-Okay.”
Brendon bent over to pick up a pair of jeans lying on the floor and Ryan swallowed hard. He bit his lip and looked away. He heard Brendon’s soft chuckle and turned back to face him.
“You just don’t get it, do you?” Brendon said with a shake of his head.
“Get what?”
Brendon raised a hand and stroked Ryan’s cheek gently with his knuckles. “What I mean when I say I love you.”
Ryan cocked his head. Brendon leant down and pressed his lips softly to Ryan’s. When he pulled back, Ryan’s eyes were wide.
“Oh.”
Brendon laughed. “You don’t have to feel the same…”
“But I do.” Ryan whispered, pulling Brendon down for another kiss.
Ryan was eating breakfast when he heard the knock on the door. He grinned and ran to answer it, thinking it was Brendon. He threw open the door and froze.
“Dad?”
“I figured I’d surprise you.” Ryan’s father shrugged, walking inside.
“Um… Okay…” Ryan muttered, shutting the door. He returned to his breakfast. “How long are you here for?”
“Just today. I thought we could go see a movie or something.”
“Um…”
Another knock caught Ryan’s attention. He returned to the front door, unaware of his father following him. He opened the door and grinned at Brendon.
“Hey.”
“Hey. You ready to go?” Brendon asked, stepping inside.
“Go? Where are you going? I thought we were going to the movies?” Ryan’s father said.
Brendon raised his eyebrows and looked at Ryan.
“Oh, sorry. Dad, this is Brendon. Brendon, my father.”
“Oh, so he actually showed up?” Brendon sneered.
“Bren…”
“Sorry, Ry.”
Ryan’s father was glaring at Brendon. “Ryan, let’s get going. We want to get good seats, don’t we?”
“Actually, Dad… Something’s come up… Maybe next weekend.” Ryan said, exiting the house hand and hand with Brendon. As he climbed into Brendon’s car, he looked back at his father, who was standing in shock at the doorway. He couldn’t help it; he laughed.
THE END
(A/N: Yeah, this is inspired by all those asshole fathers who think their own lives are more important than their kids. One day, their kids will see their fathers are worth shit and there are other people more worthy of their tears.)
“Ryan! Phone!”
Ryan picked up the phone, a large smile on his face. He figured it was Brendon, calling to see if he could come over. But Ryan had plans. His dad had promised, promised, that he was coming in for the weekend, that they’d do something special.
“Hello?” Ryan greeted.
“Hey, son.”
Ryan’s smile faded. No, not again.
“H-Hey, Dad… What’s up?”
“Look, Ryan, I can’t make it this weekend. I’ve got a flat tire…”
Ryan bowed his head. Every single time. It was always a flat tire, a broken transmission, a funeral, bad weather, or some other random thing. Excuse after excuse to why he couldn’t make the three-hour drive down to see his son.
“N-No problem, Dad… Next weekend?”
“I’ve got to work… I’ll make it down sometime.”
There was a click and the phone went dead. No good-bye, no words of love.
Ryan stood up and pulled on a hoodie. He ran downstairs and opened the front door, ready to step out.
“Was that your father?” Ryan’s mother asked.
Ryan sighed and nodded. “He’s not going to be able to make it down this weekend.”
“Oh, honey…”
“Forget it.” Ryan shrugged. “I’m going to Brendon’s.”
Brendon lived three houses down and across the street. Ryan was there in seconds, knocking on the door.
Mrs. Urie answered. “Ryan! What a surprise… I thought your father was coming down this weekend?”
Ryan forced a smile. “He can’t make it down this weekend… Flat tire.”
“Oh… Well, come on it. Brendon’s up in his room.”
Ryan nodded and took the stairs two at a time. He didn’t bother knocking on Brendon’s door, just opened it and walked in.
Brendon was sitting at his computer desk, doodling in a sketchpad. He looked up and frowned when Ryan walked in. He didn’t say anything, just walked over to shut and locked his door before directing Ryan to his bed.
Brendon wrapped his arms around Ryan’s small body and pulled him close. Ryan rested his head on Brendon’s shoulder, tears rolling silently down his cheeks. His tears grew into body-shaking sobs. Brendon just held him closer, tighter.
“Shhh, Ryan…” Brendon murmured into Ryan’s ear.
“I-I just d-don’t g-get it.” Ryan sobbed, “Why d-doesn’t he l-love me?”
Brendon sighed, “I don’t know, Ry… I really don’t know. You’re a beautiful person, inside and out. You’ve got a big heart, so easily broken. He should treasure you; he should take care of you. He should be there for you when your heart is broken, not be the reason your heart is breaking.”
Ryan sniffled. “Why are you so good to me?”
Brendon tightened his embrace momentarily. “Because I do love you.”
Ryan smiled softly, wiping the remnants of his tears away. “Thank you, Bren.”
“Anytime, Ryan. I’ll always be there to pick up the pieces.”
“I’m on my way, Ryan. I’ll be there in a few hours, I promise.” Ryan’s father told him over the phone.
“Okay.” Ryan mumbled. He didn’t really believe his father’s words, but he couldn’t help the way his hopes rose. Maybe he would show up this time.
Ryan hung the phone up and laid down on his bed. He listened to the music from his CD player, the Smashing Pumpkins. Slowly, he fell asleep.
Ryan blinked open his eyes. He stretched out and glanced at the clock. He shot up in bed, throwing back his covers. He cursed under his breath and ran downstairs. His mother was sitting at the kitchen table.
“Mom? Did Dad show up?”
Ryan’s mother looked up at him and shook her head. “Not yet, honey.”
Ryan sighed, his face falling. He should have known better than to hope. He re-climbed the stairs slowly, dragging his feet a bit. He pulled on some clean clothes before going back downstairs.
“I’m going to Brendon’s.” He said, not bothering to wait for a response form his mother. Ryan didn’t knock on Brendon’s door. It was fairly early and he didn’t want to wake up Brendon’s parents. Instead, he climbed up the large tree in their front yard and tapped on Brendon’s bedroom window.
Brendon groaned as the sound pulled him from sleep. He blinked open his eyes and peered over at Ryan. He rose from bed and crossed the room, opening the window for Ryan.
“Ryan, its seven… Too early.”
Ryan shrugged, lying down on Brendon’s bed. “My dad didn’t show up.”
Brendon sighed and joined Ryan, wrapping his arms around him. “I’m sorry, Ry…”
As always, slow, silent tears came first, developing quickly into sobs. Ryan buried his face into the crook of Brendon’s neck. Brendon held him a little tighter and combed his fingers through Ryan’s short hair.
Ryan pulled away, wiping his eyes. He stared at Brendon for a minute. “Um… You’re not dressed.”
Brendon rolled his eyes. “Well, you did wake me up.”
“Oh… Um, I’ll just… Go…” Ryan muttered, blushing.
“Stay, Ryan. I can easily get dressed.”
Ryan nodded. “O-Okay.”
Brendon bent over to pick up a pair of jeans lying on the floor and Ryan swallowed hard. He bit his lip and looked away. He heard Brendon’s soft chuckle and turned back to face him.
“You just don’t get it, do you?” Brendon said with a shake of his head.
“Get what?”
Brendon raised a hand and stroked Ryan’s cheek gently with his knuckles. “What I mean when I say I love you.”
Ryan cocked his head. Brendon leant down and pressed his lips softly to Ryan’s. When he pulled back, Ryan’s eyes were wide.
“Oh.”
Brendon laughed. “You don’t have to feel the same…”
“But I do.” Ryan whispered, pulling Brendon down for another kiss.
Ryan was eating breakfast when he heard the knock on the door. He grinned and ran to answer it, thinking it was Brendon. He threw open the door and froze.
“Dad?”
“I figured I’d surprise you.” Ryan’s father shrugged, walking inside.
“Um… Okay…” Ryan muttered, shutting the door. He returned to his breakfast. “How long are you here for?”
“Just today. I thought we could go see a movie or something.”
“Um…”
Another knock caught Ryan’s attention. He returned to the front door, unaware of his father following him. He opened the door and grinned at Brendon.
“Hey.”
“Hey. You ready to go?” Brendon asked, stepping inside.
“Go? Where are you going? I thought we were going to the movies?” Ryan’s father said.
Brendon raised his eyebrows and looked at Ryan.
“Oh, sorry. Dad, this is Brendon. Brendon, my father.”
“Oh, so he actually showed up?” Brendon sneered.
“Bren…”
“Sorry, Ry.”
Ryan’s father was glaring at Brendon. “Ryan, let’s get going. We want to get good seats, don’t we?”
“Actually, Dad… Something’s come up… Maybe next weekend.” Ryan said, exiting the house hand and hand with Brendon. As he climbed into Brendon’s car, he looked back at his father, who was standing in shock at the doorway. He couldn’t help it; he laughed.
THE END
(A/N: Yeah, this is inspired by all those asshole fathers who think their own lives are more important than their kids. One day, their kids will see their fathers are worth shit and there are other people more worthy of their tears.)