FISH WAYURIE

Day One

"Are we there yet?" Ryan's low groan was simultaneous with the rumbling of the gas emissions of the go-cart.

"We've been here," Spencer said, almost clearing his throat while he spoke. Ryan's face flushed softly as he jumped off of the back of the rental vehicle.

Brendon was the oldest of the group, because this is wattpad and he's the main character. It doesn't need to make sense, alright? And because he was the oldest, EVERYONE loved him. Including Ryan, who was a year younger. We're working backwards, people. Brendon jumped out of the go-cart that they'd been driving around the streets of Jersey in, waiting out their nerves of showing up to the convention.

This convention only happened once every year, and Picnic at the Disco has never gone (they haven't been cool long enough to go) but that all changed today. Jon was the one that booked them for the convention because Ryan was too busy having mental breakdowns eating cheese wiz, Spencer didn't have the authority in the band to book it, and Brendon just didn't give a shit. But Jon did so he signed them up.

The group had shuffled to their panel, they'd be in the area for three days so they needed to have their things well set up. Ryan was in the corner, "struggling" to tune his guitar.

"Brendon, can you come help me?" Ryan's voice pierced through Brendon's ears, who kind of just shimmied over to Ryan. "What?"
"I need help tuning my guitar. You're good at this, can you help me?"
Brendon stammered. "U-u-u-u-u-u-u-m, sure," he said, gripping the guitar and ripping it out of Ryan's hands so hard that all of his knuckles popped. "Ow," he said. "I'm gonna need some cheese wiz for that."

Brendon sang a painfully high note which shattered Jon's will to live and tuned the guitar accordingly, Ryan's chest filling with pain as Brendon tuned his guitar. Ryan knew Brendon could never feel the same, his heart just ached as he watched Brendon.

"There you go. Did you know you have cheese wiz inside of this thing?" Brendon asked, staring at Ryan with an upset yet loving look.

"I did. It's my emotional support food."

"You eat it out of the jar?
"Yes."
"Oh."
"I like the texture. It feels nice against the roof of my mouth."

Jon shouted from the outside of the room, where Ryan and Brendon were alone. The words were unintelligible.

"Did you hear what he said?" Ryan asked, his fluffy, yet slicked-down hair moving out of his face to show both of his shit-brown eyes sparkling in the restricted and artificial lighting.

Brendon spaced out, his eyes focused on Ryan. Ryan could feel his chest tighten as Brendon carelessly moved forward, resting his hand on Ryan's upper thigh.

"Oh," Ryan stuttered, his face turning hot. And without a thought...

"What the fuck?" Spencer mumbled, the door to their panel backstage only partially open.

"They're making out, idiot," Jon said, hitting Spencer in the back of the head with Ryan's guitar, which was casually on fire.

"My guitar!!" Ryan jumped up, accidentally hitting Brendon in the chin as he grabbed the guitar and smashed it against the ground until the fire was out. Because Ryan wasn't fucking god, this also meant that the guitar was completely fucking destroyed.

"I don't think you're gonna be able to play that," Brendon said, rubbing his sore chin.

"Nah, you think?" Ryan laughed, picking up a loose piece of the fretboard which had been dislocated from his guitar.
"Well, we have less than thirty seconds to get out there now," Jon groaned, pulling Ryan onto his back and walking out with him despite Ryan's violent protest. Brendon stood up and dragged Spencer out by the collar of his shirt and dragged him on the floor like a bodybag. This had become routine.