last resort | ryden

12

brendon
having ryan to my right filled me to the brim with nervous energy.
so i sang, i let it all out through the metaphors and the truths mixed in with each lie, and i sang while i shook off each doubt and insecurity about how ryan was feeling, and i sang.
damn, it felt nice.
we had a short break between some of the songs, to towel down and to hydrate. it was also because ryan still wasn't one hundred percent perfect on a few of the songs, and it would be helpful for him to refresh his memory. i'll admit, it was hard seeing him there again, sweaty and panting and smiling and beautiful, even harder when i caught a glimpse of him talking with dallon mid way through nine in the afternoon, and again in golden days. they both looked panicked, but we had a break next and surely i could ask what was going on then. i remember a few years ago, after a show, ryan leaning into my shoulder and whispering about how venues like these felt like home to him, we spent so much time to him.
i remembered, and my heart ached.
i needed to hold his hand.

somehow, what i pictured to be a calming break mid concert including ryan and i talking about the good times, instead involved police, dallon choking who i think was adam, zack and dan calming ryan down, and me talking to the police. about something i had only dared think of when i was in that flat. i was terrified, and i couldn't imagine how ryan would feel.

ryanryanryan

it came flooding back.
vacuums used to block out noise, running taps and smashing plates and the slap of skin on skin. the signs were all there. ryan was never okay in there, the soap operas turned too high for some sort of excuse and the black eye he had and god he was always thin but now? why didn't i realise before?

a strong grip on my bicep made me pause, and the first thing i could make out through my hazy vision was the sympathetic expression the cop in front of me sported. the second was the tears dribbling silently down my cheeks. i wiped them away angrily. i shouldn't be the one sad right now.

"... Mr Urie, we think it would be beneficial to both you and your band if you cancelled this show, neither of you are in the correct mindspace to perform right now, we understand that it is almost over anyway, and we would be more than glad to drive you and your band to wherever you wish. this young man," he gestured to adam, handcuffed and held to a police officer, "will be held in a separate car and we will keep him in a holding cell until you deem that you are fit enough to speak about it."

i nodded, weakly, and let them take me home. home, home, and i was taking ryan with me.

talking of ryan, he was sat to my left, curled up against the door and staring with blank eyes out of the window. there were no tears in his eyes, but a tissue was clenched between his fingertips anyway.
he looked broken.