theithipscene

Chapter five

Ryan walks into the room, followed by another man that Brendon doesn’t recognise. Out of nowhere, Ryan withdrawers a gun and points it at Dallon’s face.

“Tell me what you know, Weekes.” He says with an agitated tone.

The other man walks up behind him, observing Brendon and Spencer. They are sitting on the couch, silent, shocked, trembling with fear.

Dallon stares at the barrel of the gun and swallows hard. “I-I...um...” His voice is coarse and broken as he tries to make some kind of intelligible sentence.

“Just take them out.” The other man says shortly, taking his eyes off of Brendon and Spencer and looking at Ryan.

Ryan turns to the man, arm still outstretched in Dallon’s direction. “Jon, I know what I’m fucking doing, Jesus Christ.” He snaps.

The other man, Jon, shrugs and turns around, walking over to Ian who is lying by the door holding his head. Jon grabs the scruff of Ian’s shirt and hauls him to his feet, kicking the front door shut and dragging the smaller man over to the others. Ian groans as he is dumped on the floor next to where Brendon and Spencer are sitting.

Ryan looks back at Dallon. “Got nothing to say, hm?” He snarls before turning to Brendon. “What about you? Gonna spill the beans, Urie?” He points the gun at Brendon, a few inches in front of his glasses.

Brendon’s hands are shaking uncontrollably. He can’t focus; he knows he needs to say something but can’t bring himself to do it. Not that he doesn’t want to say something, he just physically can’t. He opens his mouth to speak but no sound comes out.

Spencer is looking around and Jon notices. “Sit still.” He says malevolently, pulling a gun out of his back pocket. Spencer inhales sharply at the sight of the second gun, freezing in his place.

Ryan lurches forward, grabbing a fistful of Brendon’s hair and pulling him to his feet by it. The latter lets out a cry of pain and he is hauled up into a standing position. Ryan pushes the gun against Brendon’s temple and looks him dead in the eye.

“Brendon Urie, tell me what you know.”

Brendon swallows, fighting back the tears. “P-Please...” He whimpers, looking at Ryan desperately.

“Leave them alone,” Ian spits. “Just get the fuck out, they don’t know anything.”

Jon steps forward and throws his fist at Ian’s face, hitting him square in the nose. There is a sickening crunch from the connection, “Fuck!” Ian yells as blood trickles over his lips and onto his shirt. Spencer kneels down next to him almost immediately and inspects his bleeding nose, “Shit, are you ok, Ian?” he asks, shaking.

Dallon stands up quickly and goes to help Ian but is held up by Ryan. “Where the fuck do you think you’re going, Weekes? Sit down.” Dallon obeys and Ryan tightens his grip in Brendon’s hair. Brendon lets out a little whimper and squeezes his eyes shut.

“We don’t know anything,” Brendon splutters. “We...we just thought—“

“You thought what?” Ryan growls, pressing the gun harder into Brendon’s temple.

A tear rolls down Brendon’s cheek and he swallows, trying to speak.

“We thought...” Dallon speaks up, finally. “...we thought that...well...because of the stuff in the drawer...um...”

“You thought I was a murderer.” Ryan says coldly. “Well...” He smiles at Jon who is standing beside him, gun poised. “...there’s more to me than you think you know.”

Ryan lets go of Brendon’s hair suddenly, and the latter collapses in a heap on the floor.

“Why are you here?” Spencer says quietly, almost a whisper. “What do you want?”

“What do we want?” Jon asks back. “Oh, we just wanted the thrill.” Jon smirks, closing one eye, tilting his head to the side and pointing the gun at Spencer’s face.

“We wanted the truth, is all.” Ryan sighs, crossing his arms. “Oh, and we felt like correcting your mistake.”

“Mistake?” Dallon shakes his head, confused.

“I’m not a murderer.” Ryan says quietly. “I just have an obscure obsession with serial killers. I study the newspaper articles and read the information about it on the internet. I love it. I can’t get enough of it.”

Brendon shakes his head. “What?” He pulls himself up from the floor and onto his feet. “You have an obsession with murders? So you study Serial killers? But...in the bedside cabinet there were the newspaper articles...” Ryan nods as Brendon speaks. “So where did the belts and shoes in the wardrobe come from?”

Ryan picks up with interest. “What?”

“The belts...and the shoes...they were the items that were missing from the victims in the articles...”

Jon shakes his head and looks at Brendon sympathetically. “You should have kept your mouth shut, kid.”

Brendon panics slightly. What did Jon mean by that?

“Yeah, you should have.” Ryan says softly and he raises the gun again.

Title: First Impressions
Rating: I dunno lol
POV: 3rd person, Brendon's
Disclaimer: Never real, never happened blah blah blah you get the gist
Summary: Brendon Urie has a horrific track record when it comes to jobs, so when he gets a new job as a cleaner, he hopes that his inability to hold down a job may change. When Brendon, and his new colleague, Dallon, go on a rummage around the house, they are shocked when they find out that one Ryan Ross has a dirty little secret...

Chapter four

“So you’re sure he’s a serial killer or something?” Ian runs his fingers through his tousled hair and looks at Dallon carefully.

“Well,” Brendon cuts in. “We’re not sure. We think so.”

“Sounds freaky,” Spencer sighs. “What are you going to do?”

Dallon goes to speak, but Brendon talks over him. “Since Dallon told him that we knew about him and what he’d done, we don’t know what to do.”

“That’s why we’re here.” Dallon rubs the back of his neck and looks at Brendon, then to Ian and Spencer. “We’re not sure what to do, and we needed somewhere to stay.”

“That’s what friends are for.” Ian smiles and looks at the two men across the room from him.

The day flies past and Brendon suddenly notices that it’s dark outside. “Hey, what’s the time?” He asks generally.

“Oh, it’s 10:35.” Spencer smiles at him.

Brendon sits back, surprised. “Where did the day go?”

Ian stands up and stretches. “So we’ll take the couches, you and Dallon can have the beds.”

“Hey, we don’t want to push you out of your beds. We’ll sleep on the couches, you guys stay in your beds.” Dallon sits up and shakes his head.

Ian walks over to him and places a hand on his shoulder. “Dallon, I insist.” He smiles simply and Dallon and Brendon share a look as Dallon gives in.

Brendon nuzzles into the warm bed, pulling the sheets up to his neck and placing his glasses onto the bedside table. The room is dark, the amber glow of the bedside lamp has been extinguished and its warm light has left the room in pitch black.

Brendon lay on his back, looking up at the ceiling.  He closes his eyes in a fatuous attempt at falling asleep, but he can’t. Too many thoughts are spinning around his head like a cyclone, and he can’t think straight.

Suddenly, out of the darkness a sliver of light seeps into the room. Light from the door. Brendon sits up immediately and stares at the door to find Spencer’s face peering around it carefully.

“Dude, did I wake you?” He says worriedly, a crease appears on his forehead as he frowns.

“No,” Brendon laughs as he swings his legs off of the edge of the bed. “I was just thinking. I can’t really sleep.”

Spencer walks over and perches on the bed next to Brendon. “Hey man, are you ok? You seemed really on edge earlier.”

Brendon shrugs, scratching his forearm. “I guess it’s just the surprise. I finally found a good job and my employer is a serial killer.”

“You don’t know that for sure.” Spencer says with calm, soothing tone. He places a hand on Brendon’s shoulder. “Look, you’re going to be ok. We’ll look after you; you don’t have to worry about that Ryan anymore. Try and get some sleep, Brendon.”

Brendon shuffles back onto the bed and Spencer stands up. “Sleep tight, don’t let the bedbugs bite.” He smiles at Brendon, who is pulling the sheets over him again.

As Spencer walks away, Brendon speaks up. “Spencer,” He starts. “Why did you come in?”

Spencer stops and looks around. “Um...s-socks,” He bites his lip and walks over to the chest of drawers. “For my feet. They’re cold.” He pulls open the drawer and pulls out a pair of thick black socks. “Anyway, get some sleep, buddy.”

Brendon smiles at the awkward man before him and lies back down. “Night, Spencer.”

The door closes gently and Brendon hears the quiet click as it shuts and Brendon is left again in the darkness, just his thoughts for company. Despite Spencer’s reassurance, he can’t help being scared about Ryan. He can’t help wondering what if?

He rolls onto his side and nuzzles into the cool pillow, squeezing his eyes shut and trying to forget about the whole situation.

“Rise and shine, sleeping beauty.” A familiar voice mocks. Light blinds Brendon’s dilated eyes as he tries to open them. “Up you get, Brendon.”

Dallon kneels down next to the bed and looks Brendon straight in his now squinting eyes. “Thanks for that.” Brendon grumbles. He sits up and runs his hair through his hair, reaching out for his glasses without looking and knocking them onto the floor. “Ugh.” he grunts.

The man kneeling by the bed picks them up and places them on Brendon’s face. “There you go.” He smiles simply and stands up.

Brendon rubs his eyes and adjusts his glasses on his face before getting out of the bed. He stands up and gets his balance before walking into the bathroom. He hears a sizzling as he takes in his shoddy appearance and bed-hair in the bathroom mirror.

Making his way into the kitchen, he is greeted by the pungent scent of frying bacon. He wrinkles his nose at the smell and looks over at Ian, who is standing in front of the oven.

“Bacon?” He offers, looking up at Brendon.

“I, um...I’m a vegetarian.” Brendon confesses awkwardly.

Ian looks back down at the bacon. “That’s cool; we’ve got some other stuff. I can make you some toast, or pop tarts or something.”

“I’m good at the moment, thanks.” Brendon rubs his eyes and smiles at Ian before walking into the living room, slumping down next to Spencer. “Morning. How are your feet?”

“Huh?” Spencer sits up and looks at Brendon.

“Your feet. They were cold.”

“Oh, um...yeah...my feet are good. And yours?” He laughs at the man next to him.

Brendon begins to drum on his thighs as Dallon takes a seat opposite him. Ian walks into the living room and spins on his heels as the door knocks. He scoots towards the door and looks through the peephole.

“Who is it?” Spencer asks, itching his stubble.

Ian walks back into the room and shrugs. “Not sure...I don’t recognise him. I’ll ask what he wants.” He walks back to the door and cautiously undoes the lock. Opening the door slowly, Ian examines the slender man before him. “Who are you?”

“Are Dallon and Brendon here?” The man says in a calm voice.

“Why? And you didn’t answer my question.” Ian shifts his weight.

The man at the door sighs. “And you didn’t answer mine. Are they here?”

“No,” Ian lies. “No they aren’t.”

“Don’t lie to me.” The man takes a step forward into the apartment, pushing Ian backwards, and Brendon sees the man’s face.

Ryan Ross.

Title: First Impressions
Rating: I dunno lol
POV: 3rd person, Brendon's
Disclaimer: Never real, never happened blah blah blah you get the gist
Summary: Brendon Urie has a horrific track record when it comes to jobs, so when he gets a new job as a cleaner, he hopes that his inability to hold down a job may change. When Brendon, and his new colleague, Dallon, go on a rummage around the house, they are shocked when they find out that one Ryan Ross has a dirty little secret...

Chapter 3

The two men look each other straight in the eyes. Dallon mouths the words “What are we going to do?” and Brendon nibbles the skin around his index fingernail.

“Hello?” A voice comes from downstairs and the sound of feet on stairs gets louder. Brendon panics and looks at the window, and then back at Dallon. Within a second, they are scrambling out of an open window and falling out onto the roof of Ryan’s porch. Brendon tumbles off of the porch roof and onto the front lawn, landing on his back. The wind is knocked out of him, and Dallon appears at his side.

“Come on!” His voice urges as he sits Brendon up.

“I-I’m ok...” Brendon gasps and he is helped to his feet. The older man drags him along, half carrying him, as they make their getaway from the horrific house.

After several minutes of running and being dragged, Brendon manages to regain his breath. Suddenly, he feels a vibration in his pocket, followed by his ringtone. He whips his cell phone out and looks at the caller ID.

Ryan Ross.

He looks up at Dallon, and there is an equal amount of fear in the latter’s eyes. “Answer it.” Dallon says firmly.

“What?!” Brendon says, shocked at the order.

“Answer it. See what he has to say.”

Hands shaking, Brendon presses the answer button on his phone and places the cell phone to his ear.

“Where are you two?” a voice croaks on the end of the line.

“Um...we...um...I...” Brendon stammers, and Dallon rips the phone from his trembling hands, placing it to his own ear.

“We know.” He says shortly.

“What? You know what?” Ryan sounds confused at Dallon’s comment, but Dallon just shakes his head.

“We know your secret, Ryan Ross.”

“What secret?”

Dallon sighs, frustrated. “Don’t act all innocent, Ross. You know exactly what we’re talking about.” The dial tone sounds on the other end of the line and Dallon shakes his head again.

Brendon tugs the cell phone from Dallon’s hand. “Why did you do that?” He looks up at Dallon, fire in his eyes.

“Do what?” Dallon cocks his head to the side.

“Tell him that we know. If he is a serial killer, then you know who his next two victims are going to be? You and me.” Brendon growls. “I don’t know about you, Mr Weekes, but I like life, and I don’t plan on giving it up because of you.”

Dallon frowns at the short man in front of him, and Brendon keeps his eyes on the towering man in front of him. “Look,” Dallon says softly. “If you’re that worried, then I’ll ring my friend and ask if we can stay at his place. There are just two of them there, and they’ve got a massive apartment. Ryan definitely won’t be able to find us or anything in case you were worried he could trace back to your house or something, and you can sleep easier.”

Brendon’s features soften, and he nods. An offer to stay in a nice place with company and a door that locks, how can he refuse? Dallon whips out his cell phone and punches in a number.

“Hey, Ian! Yeah, it’s Dallon...Yeah, I’m great man...hey, do you think me and a friend can crash at your house tonight? Ah, man, you’re a great friend...yeah...yeah, I owe you...Ok thanks...we’ll come over now...thanks again...bye.”

“Ok, let’s go.”

After a twenty minute walk they arrive at a large, modern looking apartment block. Dallon presses a buzzer and the door opens. Brendon follows the tall man up the stairs like an obedient dog, and they reach an apartment. Dallon knocks firmly on the door three times, and within seconds, and small man with a headful of curly hair opens the door. The man is short anyway, but next to giraffe-man, he looks like a garden gnome.

“Dallon! And this is your friend?” He peers around Dallon and inspects Brendon, a small smile on his face.

A man walks up behind Ian and beams at the two men at the door. “Hey Dallon, and...?” The new man tilts his head.

“Brendon. Brendon Urie.” Brendon steps forward and outstretches his hand, shaking Ian and the new man’s hands.

“Well, nice to meet you, Brendon. I’m Spencer, Ian’s roomie.” The man nods.

Ian steps back. “Come on in then, guys.” Brendon and Dallon enter the stylish apartment, taking in the shiny, clinical appearance. “So,” He says as we settle in the living room, Brendon perching on the white couch, Dallon slumping down next to him. “How come you needed to crash here tonight, guys?”

Brendon looks at Dallon and bites his lip. Dallon sits up and clears his throat. “Well, it’s a long story.”