WIP Amnesty (Panic! at the Disco)
Mar. 5th, 2007 03:42 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
laughingtaleryan & spencer childhood ficlet
Written 3/5/07. 427 words.
Bandslash, for![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-community.gif)
we_are_cities, dec 09 06. Part of me really wishes I had finished this one - I like what I've got here a lot - but part of me was reluctant to ever finish it because it's pretty harsh towards Ryan's dad and I wasn't sure what the reaction to that would be. Still, I think it's some of my best writing.
Each languid summer day melts into the next, no school and the air conditioning turned up so high you almost forget that when you step out the door you could melt. Ryan escapes to Spencer’s house for days at a time, barely seeing his own bed all summer. Spencer’s parents don’t mind; they’re like family at this point, and it’s so much easier to see each other now that they don’t have the obstacle of different schools and different grades between them.
For now.
Just like everything else, the summer is temporary. When fall comes, Ryan will sleep at home most nights and bike to school, meeting Spencer only on the weekends. They’ll fool around with their instruments, but it’ll just be fooling around, because you can’t really practice if you only see each other once a week. But for now, the dry heat of Nevada in July permeates the air and it is too hot to bike or walk or do anything outside, really – even swim, some days. There are these kids down the street from Spencer who have a lemonade stand out almost everyday. Ryan thinks the heat must have already gotten to their brains, because he can’t imagine anyone voluntarily spending hours in it unless they’re completely crazy. Sometimes he sleeps on the kitchen floor. It’s the coolest place in the house.
One day when Ryan’s home, his father yells at him about something, who even knows what, and the next day, his bike is outside in the driveway, tires melting into the concrete. “Oops,” his father says, “Sorry,” and he doesn’t even have the grace to look like he means it. Ryan starts saving money for a new one right then, though he doesn’t have a real job or anything, just an elderly neighbor who pays him to fix things around her house sometimes. And now he’s stuck there, can’t even get back to Spencer’s because he’s only thirteen and won’t be able to drive for another three years yet. He calls Spencer, says, “My bike broke,” and Spencer says, “We’ll come get you,” right away. He can tell Spencer wants to ask what happened, but he just hangs up the phone so he doesn’t have to answer any more questions. When Spencer’s mom pulls up outside his house, he yells, “I’m leaving,” and slams the door. Hard. After his guitar, his bike is his most valued possession; it’s the only means he has of getting anywhere.
“What happened?” Spencer asks, but Ryan shrugs and Spencer drops it.
Written 3/5/07. 427 words.
Bandslash, for
we_are_cities, dec 09 06. Part of me really wishes I had finished this one - I like what I've got here a lot - but part of me was reluctant to ever finish it because it's pretty harsh towards Ryan's dad and I wasn't sure what the reaction to that would be. Still, I think it's some of my best writing.Each languid summer day melts into the next, no school and the air conditioning turned up so high you almost forget that when you step out the door you could melt. Ryan escapes to Spencer’s house for days at a time, barely seeing his own bed all summer. Spencer’s parents don’t mind; they’re like family at this point, and it’s so much easier to see each other now that they don’t have the obstacle of different schools and different grades between them.
For now.
Just like everything else, the summer is temporary. When fall comes, Ryan will sleep at home most nights and bike to school, meeting Spencer only on the weekends. They’ll fool around with their instruments, but it’ll just be fooling around, because you can’t really practice if you only see each other once a week. But for now, the dry heat of Nevada in July permeates the air and it is too hot to bike or walk or do anything outside, really – even swim, some days. There are these kids down the street from Spencer who have a lemonade stand out almost everyday. Ryan thinks the heat must have already gotten to their brains, because he can’t imagine anyone voluntarily spending hours in it unless they’re completely crazy. Sometimes he sleeps on the kitchen floor. It’s the coolest place in the house.
One day when Ryan’s home, his father yells at him about something, who even knows what, and the next day, his bike is outside in the driveway, tires melting into the concrete. “Oops,” his father says, “Sorry,” and he doesn’t even have the grace to look like he means it. Ryan starts saving money for a new one right then, though he doesn’t have a real job or anything, just an elderly neighbor who pays him to fix things around her house sometimes. And now he’s stuck there, can’t even get back to Spencer’s because he’s only thirteen and won’t be able to drive for another three years yet. He calls Spencer, says, “My bike broke,” and Spencer says, “We’ll come get you,” right away. He can tell Spencer wants to ask what happened, but he just hangs up the phone so he doesn’t have to answer any more questions. When Spencer’s mom pulls up outside his house, he yells, “I’m leaving,” and slams the door. Hard. After his guitar, his bike is his most valued possession; it’s the only means he has of getting anywhere.
“What happened?” Spencer asks, but Ryan shrugs and Spencer drops it.
