Ryden: Confession

I was last off the stage again. I stumbled down the five steps dizzily, because my brain was so foggy from the noise and the lights. I descended into the darkness, then took a right turn, following the fuzzy forms in front of me down a long hallway. They were chattering, but I couldn’t concentrate on anything they were saying. I followed them through a doorway and shut the door behind me absentmindedly.

I heard my name and came mostly out of my trance, suddenly aware that we were in a dressing room. “Huh?” I said. “Sorry, I didn’t hear you.”

It was Spencer who was speaking to me. “I said, nice job tonight, Ryan.”

“Oh, thanks. You too,” I said lamely, trying to look less tired than I was. It was only eleven-something, after all. But soon I was distracted. Brendon was sitting on the red couch near the mirrors. He was shaking his hair out, and tiny beads of his sweat were flying everywhere. I saw it in slow motion, and I had to make a conscious effort not to drool.

Jon, who was sitting next to him, laughed and said, “That is just gross, man.”

“Don’t you and Spencer have dates with bikini models or some shit like that?” Brendon asked, leaning back and draping his arms over the back of the couch.

“They’re Victoria’s Secret models,” Jon corrected him.

“Yeah, and I’m being forced to go, I didn’t volunteer,” Spencer said, putting his hands up in the air.

“Well go take a shower, both of you, you smell like you’ve been in the jungle for three weeks without any deodorant,” Brendon said with a crooked smile.

They all laughed, and Spencer and Jon got up to leave the room. “See you back at the hotel,” Jon said, smiling his usual creepy smile as he closed the door.

I stumbled over to the mirrors and collapsed in a chair, grabbing a makeup remover pad from a small plastic container and rubbing it all over my face.

“You don’t look so good,” Brendon commented. “Feeling okay?”

“Yeah, I think so.” I glanced at the remover pad, and it was no longer white, but covered in splotches and lines of tan and black. “I just didn’t have very much fun playing tonight. It was weird.”

“What’s wrong, Ross, the lights getting a bit too bright for you?” Brendon said, trying to be funny. He snickered at his own joke.

“Maybe,” I said, completely serious. “I just miss the old days, when it was just you, me, Spence, and Brent in a garage. Don’t get me wrong, I love Jon. But I miss having it be all about the music.”

“What’s it about now, then?”

“The clothes we wear. And when we have to be in what city. And what hotel we’re staying in, and how we’re going to avoid the paparazzi. It’s too complicated for me to deal with.”

“Sounds like you need something simple.”

I scoffed. “Yeah. Except I can’t even get in line to get a freaking latte without someone saying, ‘Hey, you’re that guy who’s in that band with Brendon Urie,’ or something like that.”

“It’s not even like that, Ryan,” Brendon said. “Plenty of people know who you are.”

“That’s just the problem. I wish they didn’t. That way I wouldn’t have to be so concerned about my image.”

“What’s there to be concerned about?”

My heart took off like it had a plane to catch. “Um, my… clothes. And stuff.” Fail, fail fail, Ryan! I thought to myself.

“Uh-huh,” Brendon said, in a tone that showed his skepticism. “Or your sexuality, perhaps?”

I froze. He was the last person I wanted harassing me about my sexuality, especially because of how I felt about him. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. I’m straight.”

“Sure you are,” Brendon said, getting off the couch. This couldn’t be good. He walked over to me and ran his index finger down my spine. “Sure you are.”

My face flushed red, I could feel the heat and see it in the mirror. I swallowed slowly and cleared my throat. “Why does it matter, anyway? I’ve known you for years. It would really disappoint me if you judged me.”

“Are you admitting you’re gay, Ryan?”

“You know what? Fine. I’m gay. There. I said it.”

“I’ve been watching you, Ryan. And I know you like me.”

“What?” I said, my voice going up three octaves. “How do you figure that?” My mind started making a list of excuses I could use if the need arose.

“You’re not comfortable around me. Especially lately, you act as though I’m a stranger. I ask you a personal question, and you try to change it back into friendly conversation.” His hand was still on my back, and it was giving me goose bumps.

“Well what if I don’t appreciate you asking me those personal questions?”

“It’s not just that,” Brendon said. He grinned, obviously aware that he could win this argument at any time. “You can barely form sentences when I’m around. It’s like you have to think about what you’re going to say.”

His victorious smile was really starting to get to me. And I was out of excuses. “What if that’s because I’m scared I’ll say something stupid, like I love you!”

Brendon sat down on the floor next to my chair. His smile disappeared. He watched me pant as I started to have a mild panic attack (excuse the expression). “Hey,” he said softly, putting a hand on my knee. “It’s okay. I’m not weirded out or anything.”

Even though it was immensely relieving to hear that he wasn’t weirded out, my heart was breaking because he didn’t say anything close to ‘I’m gay and I love you too,’ which is what I was hoping he would say. But what a dream to have, really. How could Brendon, the most amazing (and amazingly hot) person I knew ever even like me like that? It was just impossible.

He spoke again. “And I’m sorry I harassed you about it just now. I just was too scared to be the first one to say it.”

And with that, he got up, patted me on the head, and exited the dressing room.

Leaving me, Ryan Ross, in complete and total shock. But the good kind of shock. The kind that makes you want to get up and start jumping up and down and dancing with joy. And sometimes you actually do that. Just like I did.

And sometimes the person you would least like to have come into the room comes into the room and sees you dancing and jumping and gives you a weird look and then a smile and closes the door again. Just like Brendon did.

Brendon who had just confessed his love for me.