Ryden a Panic! at the Disco love story

  My eyes flickered, all I could hear was the comforting sound of a woman's heels hitting the ground noisily.I lifted the blanket up lightly and looked down at my waist. It seems as though the night after a party meant everyone around me had to wake up past twelve...well that is except for Sarah. Both my legs dangled from the side of the bed until I built the strength to stand. I reached into the dresser pulling out a wrinkled pair of lime green boxers Ryan bought me a few years ago. On my walk to the bathroom all I could see were hazy figures, empty wine bottles, torn clothes, and fake ID cards. I dipped my finger tips into the hot water, my hands reached my face and began to pound against them for a good morning facial wash. I dried my face and sat down on the stained carpet, searching for hints of what chaos possibly erupted last night. In the distance a woman's voice echoed quietly but eventually grew louder. It was Sarah. 

"Brendon what the hell is wrong with you?

I over slept, I'm a bit hungry, my newspaper hasn't arrived yet and I was really looking forward to the comics this week.

Ha Ha very funny but i'm not in the mood for jokes

Oh...okay well what's wrong now?

Now?...now,now,now. I adore how you ask what's wrong "Now".I suppose i'm not the only one in the disheveled,cheap hotel room who thinks we have another problem to add of the list of, " oh we'll fix it someday".

What's your reason for bitching now?

I'm not bitching Brendon.

Really-- your not? then why are you irking me?

No the question is why are you irking me. All you ever do on the weekends is party.

So?

It feels like you want to be away from me, like were in some kind of abusive relationship. 

Your abusing my process of thought, is that good enough?

(sigh) Ever since Ryan left the band to launch a solo career you've been acting insane.Or is it just that musical genius, punk rock, addicted to the Beatles, tattoo addict, love me or hate me I don't care attitude of yours?

You know what Sarah (he laughs) you know what? I'm tired of this crap it doesn't mean anything anymore too me. It doesn't matter what my genre of music is 'cause it always sounds great to my fans, the Beatles are amazing as hell, and my tattoo's are sexy. And one last thing...I'm done with you.

I hate you.

It hurts me to know that.

 Oh of course it does.

Well hey! Maybe my love me or hate me I don't care attitude flew out the window and faded away like my love for you.

Whatever I don't need you anyway I can pack up my things and leave.

Go ahead your harming yourself, and yourself only."

  I flopped down onto the bed where I watched Sarah fold her clothes, and tuck them away neatly into a traveling bag. To release some of the tension between us I turned on the radio and," I Write Sins not Tragedies" came on. The scariest part was as soon as I sang, "Haven't you people ever heard of closing the God damn door?" Sarah slammed the door behind her