The Publicity Stunt - Ryden

Chapter 14: Ryan Ross' pity party

I wake up in a haze, my head pounding from the effects of last nights alcohol splurge. It's only right that to fix it i grab a vodka bottle off my bedside table and bring it to my lips, the pain growing smaller as I give my body what it craves.

I've never known heartbreak. Never let myself get close enough to anybody. Never let someone have the chance to break it. Not until Brendon came around anyways.

My father was a drunk. My mother left us when I was very young. I used to blame him for my mother leaving. I used to think it was because of his drinking. No. My dad started drinking when my mom left and never stopped. Not until the day his liver failed and he died. I used to yell at him. Tell him to get the fuck over whatever was making him push away his son and grab the bottle, but now I understood.

The thing is, heartbreak doesn't come slowly. It doesn't grow, like a tumor, it's just there. Like a car crash. All at once and all very sudden. It makes you feel things you don't want to feel, makes your chest contract in ways that make you feel like you'll surely die. Whoever said it was impossible to die of a broken heart, surely hadn't gone through this kind of pain before, because heartbreak will either tear you apart so badly you might as well be dead, or it will make you wish you were. My pain was a combination of both. I had counted the ways I could off myself, but I wouldn't do it. I wouldn't give that.. Asshole, the satisfaction of seeing how he got to me.

I didn't hate my dad for turning to alcohol, it was my choice medicine too. It numbed the pain, made it feel better for a short while. Every time I started sobering up I would force myself to pour another glass. I couldn't bring myself to feel the pain that hit when I went without a drink. It was too hard. And yeah, I was a coward.

It's been 3 weeks. My sheets smell like him. The entire loft smells like them. I've lost count of how many times I've thought about him. Everywhere I look there's another memory of him.

I take another swig of vodka and sit up gently, my eyes fluttering open to look at my smashed up guitar on the bedroom floor. I hated the thing. It reminded me of him. How his stupid fingers couldn't find the right strings. How his stupid laugh made the wooden thing vibrate against his stomach. I smashed it. Fucking beat it into the ground. I hated that guitar now. Almost as much as I hated Brendon.

Actually, that was the worst part. Brendon. I turned on my tv an he was there, talking about our break up on E! news. Or he was on page 8 of the New York Times, talking about guess who? Me. I didn't read it. Didn't listen to the interviews. It was all for the crowd. Not me. Nothing he ever did was real. He was just a fake piece of shit.

I hadn't showered since that night. I had been forced to eat by Sarah and Pete, who came by everyday to check up on me. I never spoke to them. I was too broken to do any talking. They had told me a little. The album was number one on the charts. The song I put in it last minute was a number one hit. It was the only song I sang on the album. It was about Brendon. Good to know the world loved it. I fucking hated it now. Speaking of, Brendon's cover of vogue had sold really well too. He talked about me in it. How in love we were. It made me laugh to hear that.

Lies. They were all lies.

Still, it was good of them to come by everyday. They didn't have to, and if I were them, I wouldn't do it. I would leave my sorry ass to rot. I deserved it. My heartache was the cause of our tour being pushed back to next spring. I knew Spencer and Dallon would probably think I was being selfish to push it back, but they could suck my dick. They didn't know the hurt I was going through.

It fucking tore through me. He ripped my heart out and stepped on it. Fucking heartless piece of shit. Brendon Urie really should win an academy award. He's a great actor.

Suddenly there's a knock on the door. Sarah and Pete were here. I lock my eyes on the wall in front of me and sigh softly as I hear the door unlocked. They were letting themselves in. That was how it went everyday. I wondered why Sarah bothered knocking anymore.

I don't look when the door opens. I don't have to look to see Sarah and Pete's eyes on me, judging me. They were predictable. "Hey ry...." A voice pipes up. I close my eyes and take in a deep breath.

What the fuck was he doing here?