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Glass Dreams	By : druscillaryan Category: Singers/Bands/Musicians > Panic! At The Disco Views: 983 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction. I do not know the members of Panic! At the Disco. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
- 1-Glass Dreams
- 1
Glass Dreams.

Brendon fucked Ryan like that once. That fuck of desperation, of need, where sex is the only way to get the comfort you need, where it’s focusing all of your emotions into such a cannibalistic act, where it’s harsh and borderline evil. Brendon fucked Ryan like that once. Before they dated. After Audrey had left him.

* * *

”I-I don’t want to hurt you.” Brendon whispers. He knows, he knows what it’s going to be if it happens, what it has to be. There’s no other way. They both know this.

Ryan nods. ”It’s all right, Bren. Fuck me.” He brings his hands up, gently stroking his fingers along the back of Brendon’s neck. This is wrong, this isn’t right. They shouldn’t be here, they shouldn’t be entwined like this, Brendon’s eyes shouldn’t be red like this, and Ryan shouldn’t be so willing to cheat on his girlfriend. But this is how it is.

”I . . . don’t . . . Idon’twanttohurtyou.” Brendon says, tears streaming down his cheeks this time.

”Brendon, do it.” Ryan orders, swallowing the lump in his throat. ”If . . . If I need you to stop, I’ll tell you.”

”Promise?”

Ryan nods, knowing it’s a lie. He’d let himself be ripped to pieces before he’d tell Brendon to stop. This is what Brendon needs and he’s Brendon’s friend and he’ll help him in anyway he can. It’s not right, it’s all a big fucking mistake, but it’s what Brendon needs. Whoever said chivalry was dead?

Ryan fights his scream when Brendon shoves into him, so harsh, so angry, so desperate, so necessary. Brendon’s face is in Ryan’s neck and he’s sobbing and Ryan is so thankful that Brendon can’t see his face, that he only has to fight the sounds and not the looks the pain is painting so vividly on his face. Because, fuck, it hurts, hurts so goddamn bad.

But it’s necessary and it’s needed and Brendon’s cries are getting louder as Ryan fights his vocal cords.

”Okay?” Brendon chokes out against Ryan’s neck.

”Fine. Keep going.” Those three words are Ryan’s greatest feat. Choking out those three words without screaming, without making his voice sound as though his body feels like it’s being raped with a knife. He’d tear to pieces before letting Brendon know how badly it hurts.

And he does.

His entire face goes pale when he feels himself split open and he feels like there’s no oxygen in the room, like he’s drowning in an airless chamber. His lips move and no sound comes out.

Brendon doesn’t notice for a moment. When he does, he looks sick. ”Ryan, Ryan, you’re . . . bleeding, oh my God, Ry. Ryan, I didn’t . . . I didn’t mean to . . . you said you’d tell me to stop!” Brendon’s nearly hysterical, crying harder as he sees the sheets staining red.

”H-Help me into the bathtub, Brendon.” Ryan manages to whisper.

”You said you’d tell me to stop!” Brendon screams again, pulling at his hair and dragging his nails down his face, leaving angry red marks in their wake. ”Ryan, you asshole, you promised me!”

”Brendon, I need you to help me into the bathtub, okay?” Ryan’s voice is hoarse, barely audible.

”I didn’t want to hurt you!” Brendon’s sobbing.

”Brendon, you needed it.”

Brendon’s fist connects with Ryan’s cheekbone and there is cold, hard anger standing in his eyes. ”I didn’t need to hurt you.” he says darkly. ”You lied to me.”

Ryan had screamed when he was punched, the force of it causing him to jerk and sending a fresh wave of pain through his body, but Brendon hadn’t noticed. Tears are streaking down Ryan’s face now and he reaches his hands out, wildly clutching for the other boy. ”Brendon, please.” he begs.

* * *

“What are you thinking about?” Brendon asks. They’re in the hotel room, the show ended a few hours before. Ryan’s staring out the balcony door, tracing patterns in the steam his breath leaves on the glass.

“I don’t know.” Ryan answers quietly. “A dream, I think. One I can’t remember.”

Brendon sits down on the bed, staring at his boyfriend. Ryan’s been like this, the last few months. Quiet, withdrawn, secretive, depressed. “Come watch a movie with me, Ry. Housekeeping’s going to kill you over that window.”

“If I tried running through it, Brendon,” Ryan asks, “do you think I’d keep going after it broke?”

Brendon’s jaw sets and he stands up, grabbing Ryan firmly by the arm and leading him to the bed. “Why would you want to do something like that?” he murmurs, trying to keep the ice out of his voice.

“To see what happens.” Ryan whispers. His voice is obsessional, fanatical, almost child-like. His brown eyes are wide and staring at nothing.

“What happens is you fall forty stories and I scream my fucking lungs out. Is that what you want?” Brendon snaps, patience evaporating.

Ryan lowers his head guiltily. “No.” he says quietly.

“Good. Now come on, lay back. Let’s watch a movie, all right?” Brendon kisses Ryan’s temple and smoothes his hair down as the pair of them lean back against the pillows. “I love you.” he adds.

“Are you going to keep me safe, Brendon?” Ryan asks, looking up at his boyfriend, fingertips running over his lips, eyes wide beneath his lashes.

“If you let me.”

Ryan nods. “Okay.”
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Glass Dreams