(c) Through His Veins (R)

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(c) Through His Veins (R)

Post by ChemicallyImbalanced on Wed 01 Oct 2008, 4:10 pm

Title: Through His Veins
Rating: R.
Pairing: Ryan Ross/Brendon Urie
Type: Chaptered

Just thought I'd post this on IAR. you have pleased him


It was the documentary that captured his attention. The first thing that made his mind wander onto the subject of it. Honestly, a documentary about drug use wasn’t the usual thing that Ryan liked to watch, but it did spark his curiosity. He wasn’t the least bit disturbed by the detailed images in the show; he looked on in awe as he saw the effects of different drugs.

The rush, the euphoria, the high.

To him, it just all looked so interesting.

* * *

Ryan lay in the bed with Brendon beside him. He watched the younger boy’s face, his eyes were closed but Ryan knew that he wasn’t asleep.

“Hey Bren?” Ryan asked softly, not wanting to disturb the still air.

“Yeah?” Brendon replied, shifting his body slightly as his eyes remained shut.

“Have you ever done drugs?” The question that was clawing at Ryan’s thoughts finally left his lips. Brendon’s eyes snapped open and he turned his head to face Ryan.

“What brought this on?” Ryan shrugged and looked away.

“I was just curious.” Brendon continued to stare a Ryan for a little bit longer before lifting his hand to his face and rubbing his eye. He sat up, leaning on his elbow.

“Once, when I was in high school.”

“What was it?” Ryan asked curiously, biting his lip slightly.

“Pot. It was…” Brendon crinkled his nose, “weird.” Brendon fell back against the pillow and hugged Ryan tighter to him. “What about you?” he continued.

“No, I haven’t.”

“Good,” Brendon replied before nuzzling into Ryan’s neck. “Promise me you’ll never do it. I don’t want to see you fuck yourself up,” he murmured.

Ryan didn’t answer, he was already falling asleep.

* * *

“I’m gonna go over to Spencer’s now. You wanna come?” Brendon asked as he grabbed his coat and walked over to the kitchen bench were Ryan was sitting. Ryan shook his head as he shovelled another spoonful of cereal in his mouth.

Brendon kissed his cheek before walking out the front door. Ryan stared after him for a moment, letting the silence consume him. Two second later, he jumped up and went into the bedroom, ripping open the wardrobe doors and taking out his jacket, digging through his pocket until he found what he was looking for: the little bag of white powder. He hadn’t moved it; he had to wait until Brendon went out.

He sat at the kitchen bench with the bag in front of him. He stared at it, just stared at it, pondering on whether or not he should actually do it.

It was mere curiosity that made him actually buy it three nights ago. He was walking home when the guy stepped out of the alleyway, holding it in front of him.

“You want some?” he had asked, holding out a bag of what looked like white powder.

“What is it?” he questioned, carefully.


“Smack?” The man laughed heavily, looking down at Ryan.

“Heroin kid.”


He had emptied half his wallet that night.

It wasn’t until now that he thought he might actually try it. What would be the harm? He’d do it once, he wouldn’t have to do it again. Ryan grabbed his laptop and set it in front of him. He spent about half an hour researching the ways that it could be taken.

There was one way that stood out to Ryan. Intravenous injection. It seemed to appeal more than snorting it. He didn’t like the idea of it going up his nose.

He shut his laptop and took the bag of powder, stuffing it behind the microwave as he picked up his wallet and walked out of the apartment.

Ryan made his way to the pharmacy that was a block away. He looked down the aisles until he found what he had come for. Insulin syringes. There was a pack of 100 for $25. He knew he wouldn’t need that many. He was just doing it one time.

Once he was at the counter, he began tapping his fingers impatiently. The nurse looked at him.

“Diabetic?” she asked happily as she took the money from him. Ryan put on a fake smile.

“My brother is.” She nodded before handing him the purchase in a bag.

Ryan left before she could tell him to have a nice day.

* * *

He did what the internet had told him to do. He dissolved the powder in water before pulling it up the syringe. It was only a little, the substance only went up to the ‘5’ mark. That would be enough. He was sure that would be enough.

Ryan hid the rest of the powder back behind the microwave and stuffed the syringes in a cupboard which he was sure Brendon never used. The syringe was lying on the table.

He decided to take it into the bathroom, that way if Brendon came home he wouldn’t see. Ryan closed the door behind him. He held out his left wrist, looking for the vein he was supposed to inject it into, and slowly he pushed the needle under his skin.

One pinprick of pain. 8 seconds of waiting. It didn’t matter. What came next was Ryan’s favourite part.

He could feel it, going through his veins, spreading through his body. The rush of it. The part the made Ryan feel happy and careless and stress free. The part that made him feel invincible and absolutely pleasurable. He slid down the wall. Smiling to himself, even though he wasn’t entirely sure what he was smiling about, since he wasn’t doing anything.

It wore off after a few minutes, the feeling slowly ebbing away. Ryan stood up clumsily dropping the syringe in the bin on his way out; he stumbled his way towards the couch, now feeling somewhat disoriented and cloudy. He wanted the feeling to come back.

He dropped onto the couch and laid down, his drowsiness getting the better of him. Sleep took him.

* * *

Ryan woke up several hours later to someone shaking him.

“Ryan baby?” Brendon’s voice came through the silence.

Ryan groaned at his stiff neck that he had acquired from his uncomfortable position on the couch and groggily opened his eyes. Brendon laughed.

“I can’t believe you fell asleep on the couch Babe,” he laughed. Ryan rolled his eye at his boyfriend.

Brendon would never know.
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Re: (c) Through His Veins (R)

Post by ChemicallyImbalanced on Thu 02 Oct 2008, 3:37 pm


He tried.

Ryan tried so hard to throw it out, to just get rid of it and never seen it again. To wash his hands of the matter and not have the thought of it nagging at his mind. It didn’t work, because he couldn’t throw it out. Something told him he shouldn’t.

So it stayed in its place behind the microwave, and the syringes stayed in their place in the cupboard under the sink. Ryan knew that Brendon wouldn’t find them there; the only thing the cupboard stored was cleaning materials, and when was Brendon likely to do the cleaning?

The craving kicked in about a week later, and it was like a punch in the stomach. Ryan half expected it, but he didn’t know what it was actually going to feel like. He had the urge to just take it out and see it. He felt rebellious when he even thought of the fact that he had done it, and that Brendon still didn’t know.

Brendon grabbed his keys off the bench as Ryan sat watching TV.

“Are you sure you don’t want to come with me Babe?” Brendon asked once more, hoping that Ryan would change his mind.

“Nah, it’s fine. I’m just going to stay here.”

“You never come out with me anymore,” Brendon murmured under his breath as he turned to walk out. Ryan felt the guilt wash over him as his boyfriend left, but he knew that this was something he had to do.

He stumbled over his own feet as he walked quickly to the kitchen, and reached his skinny arm behind the microwave, pulling out the familiar little bag with the substance inside. He stared at it, holding it out in front of him, just making sure that it was real and that it was still there.

Ryan licked his lips as looked at it. Should he try it one more time? He wasn’t in the best of moods, maybe Brendon would be happier is he was in a better frame of mind. In a split second his decision was made as he pulled out a syringe from the box and raced to the bathroom again.

He used to same method as before, the needle sliding under his skin smoothly as he pushed the liquid into his bloodstream, and waited for it to take affect.

It was different though, it didn’t feel entirely the same. The rush was there but it wasn’t exactly as strong. Ryan slid to sit on the tiled floor, his limbs feeling extremely heavy but his body feeling extremely light.

A wave of nausea hit him and he leaned over the basin of the toilet, throwing up his stomach’s contents. He frowned despite the pleasurable feeling that was stirring up inside him.

This wasn’t as good as last time. He used the wall to steady himself as he stood up, flushing the toilet and wondering what had gone wrong. Once the rush had gone, Ryan decided one more thing.

He probably needed to use more.

* * *

Brendon threw his keys on the kitchen bench when he got home. Spending half the night at a club drinking wasn’t going to make him forget about Ryan’s strange behaviour.

He barely wanted to spend time with Brendon anymore, and nearly always wanted to be alone. He wondered if their whole relationship was falling apart. He walked into the bedroom to see Ryan sprawled out on top of the covers, taking up the whole bed. He didn’t bother to shove Ryan over, just laid down on the small space that Ryan had left for him.

It was only at about one o’clock in the morning that Ryan woke up groggily, his muscles aching for no reason. He groaned and rolled over, seeing that Brendon had squished himself into the bed. He cuddled up to him, in attempt that it would make him feel better for blowing him off earlier. It didn’t do anything really, in fact, it just made Ryan feel worse.

He hated himself for what he was doing, it was unfair to Brendon, which was precisely the reason that Ryan couldn’t let him find out.

He wouldn’t have to hide anything from Brendon if the white powder was gone.

Ryan jumped up from the bed quickly but carefully, not wanting to wake Brendon, and slipped from the bedroom, his idea running through his mind.

In a matter of minutes, Ryan had dissolved the remaining powder and put it in the syringe, the substance reaching up to the number ‘6’ on the syringe. It was more than last time, but it he wanted a greater effect.

Once again, the needle pierced his flesh and the drug ran through him. Everything was there, the high inside him, the nauseous feeling, and the dry mouth. He giggled a little, feeling like a child, except for the fact that most children would be smart enough to not use any drugs.

He jumped up too fast, his head spinning as the room moved around him. Once he had steadied himself, he made his way to the bedroom sluggishly. He wasn’t entirely sure what his mind was doing, but he did know that he had no control over it. He stumbled onto the bed, crawling slowly and tiredly up to Brendon.

“Brennie,” Ryan whispered in his ear. “Brennie?” Brendon waved him off and kept his eyes shut. Ryan moved his lips so they were hovering over Brendon’s neck and began trailing soft kisses back up to his ear, his lips grazing Brendon’s flesh as he spoke.\. “Let’s have some fun Brennie.”

Brendon opened his eyes and turned over to face Ryan, his eyebrows furrowed together.

“Are you drunk?” His question came out blunt and sharp. Ryan shook his head, attempting to crawl towards Brendon again. His movements were too slow though, and Brendon managed to push him away.

“Not now Ryan. It’s nearly two,” Brendon complained rolling over and burying his head into the pillow. Ryan huffed and fell onto his back; slipping in and out of consciousness as the drugs effects finally took their toll on him.

Brendon didn’t go back to sleep though. He lay there with his eyes open, thinking about Ryan’s behaviour over the past week. To be honest, it scared him.

* * *

Ryan didn’t feel any more relieved at the fact that he didn’t have any more of the drug. He had periods of time when he’d feel very anxious and couldn’t help but wonder if taking more would ease his feelings.

A week after trying to repair things with Brendon, Ryan was still awake at eleven thirty at night, sitting on the couch. His legs bounced up and down as he argued with himself on whether what he was about to do was a good idea.

Whether or not it was a good idea, Ryan went along with it, grabbing his jacket and looking for his wallet. He didn’t have anything in it, and he knew that teller machines were just downright dangerous at night. He eyed Brendon’s wallet that was on the bench next to his and he bit his lip. He reached for the wallet and withdraw most of the money in there.

He hurried out and walked back to the alleyway where he had first bought the drugs. The Las Vegas air whipped at his neck as he moved quickly, trying to get this over with.

* * *

The man had immediately recognised him as soon as he turned into the alleyway. He had the same scattered stubble on his chin, and the same beady, dark eyes that stared straight through him, following him everywhere that he moved. Their conversation was short, but Ryan had gotten what he wanted.

“You know, most kids start on something easier, like pot,” He had said as he folded the money Ryan had given him and put it into his jacket pocket, his harsh voice echoing off the alleyway walls. Ryan tapped his foot impatiently as he took what he paid for quickly.

He held onto the small plastic packet of white powder as he walked home. Smack was what the man usually called it, but Ryan didn’t like giving it a name.

He was sitting writing in his notebook the next morning when Brendon looked in his wallet.

“Did you borrow some money from me?’ Brendon asked casually, as he threw it back down and went to sit next to him on the couch. Ryan simply snorted and rolled his eyes as he resumed scribbling lyrics.

He didn’t want to lie to his boyfriend.

checked: rafiki.
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Re: (c) Through His Veins (R)

Post by Havok. on Sun 12 Oct 2008, 4:23 am

This is completely awesome, please write more soon!
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Re: (c) Through His Veins (R)

Post by ChemicallyImbalanced on Sun 26 Oct 2008, 10:32 am


He was clumsy at first, but Ryan had become almost a professional at it. He handled the needle with ease, and with similar success managed to keep it from Brendon.

Brendon was the most confused about the situation. He dismissed Ryan’s behaviour before, but now some of the things he did became more noticeable. He spent the nights awake, thinking about what might be wrong with Ryan, but nothing came to mind. Not immediately, anyway.

He noticed other things around the house as well. Ryan began to wear long sleeved jackets all the time, strangely, even though it was summer. The heat was unbearable, but he refused to take it off. Brendon contemplated that he was cutting, because it was the only thing that could have possibly fitted in with the situation. He stole glances at Ryan’s wrists, but Ryan hid his arms well.

It was only by chance that Brendon had walked in on Ryan sleeping on the couch, something which he had taken to doing a lot the past few weeks. He would have continued walking to the bedroom, but a thought stuck his mind.

He walked over and kneeled beside Ryan gently taking his arm, not wanting to wake him from his coma-like slumber . Brendon glanced around his shoulder, even though he knew perfectly well that no one else was in the apartment. Ryan was still completely out of it. Brendon began rolling the fabric of the jumper up to Ryan’s elbow, the cotton soft between his fingers. He half expected there to be long cuts going up his arm, but what he saw shocked him more.

The sleeve was passed Ryan’s elbows now, almost at his shoulder. Brendon's hands jumped to his mouth to stop the gasp reaching Ryan's ears.

Dots. Marks. Little red circles. They were scattered across Ryan’s arm. Brendon didn’t know exactly, but he had an idea of what they were from. There were some points that looked like little bruises and others just looked like round scars. Salty watered tears burned at Brendon’s eyes as he dropped Ryan’s arm and sat back.

Drugs? Why would Ryan do something like that? It didn’t make sense to him, and he doubted that it ever would.

* * *

Both boys sat at the small table. The sound of forks clinking against plates was the only thing breaking the silence. It was uncomfortable and Ryan wondered why, because this had never happened before.

“Is something bothering you?” he asked, looked up at Brendon.

“Yes.” Brendon didn’t lift his gaze off his meal.

“Are you going to tell me what?”

“You’re not doing drugs are you Ry?”

Ryan blinked for a second, trying to hide the shock from his face – he remained composed.

“What makes you think that?”

“I saw the marks on your arm,” Brendon admitted shyly, now looking at Ryan, but still not quite.

Ryan may have looked calm on the outside, but on the inside his mind was struggling tremendously to find an answer to Brendon’s question.

“They’ve always been there Brendon, you know that,” he snapped. He was attempting to find a way to stop the blood rushing to his face. It was a sure sign of lying when Ryan’s ears turned red, and Brendon knew that.

“I just thought-”

“I’m not,” Ryan denied, finality clear in his voice, “doing drugs”. He stood up quickly, dumping his cutlery and plate, still with food on it, in the sink loudly before scurrying out of the dining room. Brendon stared at him as he walked out. He felt miserable as he let his head it hit the table with an empty thud. He knew that Ryan wouldn’t admit to it.

* * *

Ryan was still awake when Brendon went to bed. Ryan was always awake when Brendon went to bed. He tried to hide it. He tried to pretend he was asleep, despite the fact that he wasn’t. It was insomnia. And Ryan knew what the cause of it was. No matter how much he wanted to go to sleep, no matter how tired he was, he couldn’t, because his mind didn’t want sleep. It wanted something else.

Ryan also noticed, that after what little sleep he could manage, he often woke up with watery eyes and a runny nose, common symptoms of a common cold. But it wasn’t a cold. It was the middle of summer. No one gets a cold in the middle of summer, especially in Las Vegas. He tried ways to cover it up. He used foundation to cover his red nose and allergy tablets to stop the watery eyes, but it didn’t work. Not really.

Brendon still noticed it. He spent hours on the internet looking up Ryan’s symptoms whilst Ryan was out. He then spent another hour tearing apart the bedroom where he thought Ryan might keep drugs, but his search revealed nothing new.

Brendon was quite sure that he knew where the money disappeared to now, and it worried him even more. He’d taken to hiding his wallet instead of just leaving it on the bench next to Ryan’s, hoping that if Ryan couldn’t find the money he would stop. His plan had backfired though, and he kicked himself on the inside for thinking that it may have been a good idea.

"Where's your guitar?" Brendon asked, walking into the bedroom where Ryan was lying across the bed, seemingly reading a book, but he wasn’t really taking in the words.

"It got stolen," Ryan replied nonchalantly. Brendon raised his eyebrows at him.

“Try again.”

“I didn’t like it.”

"You pawned it for money didn't you?"

Ryan looked at Brendon but stayed silent. His stare burning into Ryan's eyes, somehow making his insides writhe with guilt. He looked away and Brendon sighed.

"I didn't even get that much for it," he mumbled.

“I gave you that guitar for your birthday,” Brendon sighed, trying to hide his disappointment. He rested on the best beside Ryan, who sat up, chewing on his lip.

“I’m sorry,” Ryan apologised, reaching his hand out to put it on the younger boy’s shoulder, but decided against it and let it drop back down before he did.

“So what did you need the money for?” Brendon asked, trying to distract himself from the sad feeling that gripped his insides, and also trying to prompt Ryan to admit why he needed it. Ryan shrugged at him.

“It was kind of a ‘just-in-case’ thing,” Ryan explained, turning back to his book.

* * *

Brendon constantly kept his eye on Ryan. Watching him move from room to room, observing every place he went. Ryan didn’t leave the house that often, and neither did he.

Brendon didn’t want to tell anyone. He was too scared to tell anyone. Ryan could get in trouble, and that was the last thing he wanted. He could deal with this himself. He was sure that no one else needed to be involved.

Last edited by ChemicallyImbalanced on Tue 28 Oct 2008, 11:45 am; edited 1 time in total
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Re: (c) Through His Veins (R)

Post by ChemicallyImbalanced on Tue 28 Oct 2008, 11:43 am


It was at the point, now, that whenever Ryan left the room, Brendon would contemplate the worst things that could happen to him. He’d searched the house numerous times for places that Ryan could hide it, but each search revealed nothing new, and Brendon was started to get frustrated, especially since he knew that Ryan was still taking it, he could tell.

There was the trembling, the leg cramps that Ryan claimed where “nothing”, the watery eyes, the insomnia. Brendon had researched the symptoms. He wasn’t an idiot. Spencer had called Brendon and Ryan asking if they wanted to go out, but each time they said no. Ryan was too caught up with his addiction, and Brendon was too caught up looking out for Ryan.

* * *

“This is crappy.”

Brendon and Ryan stood inside the hotel room. The band was doing a show about three hours out of Las Vegas, meaning they had to stay in a hotel that night after the show.

Spencer and Jon were in one room, Brendon and Ryan in the other.

“Why are we staying here again?” Ryan asked, gesturing to the peeling wallpaper of the walls, a look of disgust on his face.

“Cause it’s a cheap hotel and it had spare rooms. It’s one night Ry, it’s not going to kill you,” Brendon replied, dumping his bag on the bed, pulling out his clothes and stuffing them in a drawer. Ryan rolled his eyes and went to the bathroom, as Brendon continued to unpack.

Once his bag was empty, Brendon moved to Ryan’s bag, beginning to pull out the clothes as Ryan emerged from the bathroom.


Brendon turned around to see Ryan run over and snatch his bag from Brendon’s hand.

“I can unpack myself. I’m not a baby,” he snapped. The younger boy blinked and held his hands up.

“I never said you were Ry, I was just helping.”

This was what there relationship had been like for the past month. No actual conversation, just short snappish comments at each other.

Brendon sat on the edge of his bed, watching Ryan put things in the drawer beside his bed. It wasn’t something obvious, but he did see Ryan take particular care pulling something blue out of his bag and lay it carefully in the drawer. Ordinarily Brendon wouldn’t have paid that thought a second glance, but something about it kept tugging on his brain, telling him to go and take a look at it.

So he waited until Ryan went to see what Spencer was up to, before ripping open the draw and picking it up. It looked like a simple, blue pencil case. He furrowed his eyebrows in confusion, before unzipping it and looking inside, realising immediately what it was. There where only two things inside: a syringe, and a small packet of white powder, which he knew wasn’t Ryan’s whole supply.

He could feel his heart beat in his head as he stared at what he held. What would Ryan do if he caught him looking? He hurriedly shoved the pencil case back in the drawer, careful not to make it look like it had been moved, before walking out of the room to join the rest of the guys, acting casual despite the thoughts clawing at his mind.

* * *

It was after the show that Ryan went into the bathroom of their hotel room. He needed it, and despite the fact he knew it was bad for him, he nearing the stage where he couldn’t go without it.

He had packed enough for the night, taking it from the drawer when Brendon wasn’t looking, and slipping the needle under his skin quickly, knowing just how much he had to take to get that effect.

Brendon was already under he thin sheet, waiting for Ryan, but once he grasped the fact that it didn’t usually take Ryan twenty minutes to get ready for bed, he realised what his boyfriend was doing. It was the first time that Brendon had actually been conscious when Ryan was doing it, because usually Ryan liked to take it at night when Brendon was asleep. But now, the younger boy didn’t know how to react.

Ryan emerged from the bathrrom, grin plastered on his face as he threw the case back into the draw. He pulled of his shirt, going to slip into the bed, but he was stopped by Brendon’s voice.

“I can’t belive you fucking brought it with you.”

Ryan stopped dead, confused at Brendon’s words.


“The drugs Ry, the fucking drugs,” Brendon spat, sitting up in the bed now, staring hard into Ryan’s eyes. He was beyond pissed, he was sick of watching Ryan destroy himself piece by piece.

“You’re crazy,” Ryan replied bluntly.

“You’re crazy Ry! I bet you’re fucking high right now, aren’t you?”

Ryan didn’t like this. Not at all. Brendon didn’t swear a lot, especially not at him, and he rarely raised his voice. It was just so out of character.

Ryan’s facial expression twisted into a mixture of confusion and anger. Agitated, Ryan stood up of the bed, fist clenched at his side.

“I’m not doing drugs.”

Brendon was up and out of the bed now as well, walking over toward Ryan and standing only a metre away.

“Don’t lie Ryan. Please don’t lie,” Brendon hissed.

Ryan stood there, shocked at what Brendon knew, and past agitated at his accusations. Sure, the Euphoria had worn off, and he was still feeling a little sick, but Brendon was pushing him and it wasn’t going to be a good idea.

“I saw what’s in the blue case Ryan. Why do you do this? Why can’t you just stop?” Brendon wasn’t yelling anymore, but his voice was still raised.

“I just can’t,” he answered after a long pause. He looked back at Brendon who looked ready to kill.

“You just don’t want to,” Brendon snorted, before shoving Ryan lightly.

Ryan shoved him back twice as hard, causing Brendon to stumble back against the wall. The was a loud thud where Brendon’s head hit the wall. The younger boy’s hands flew to the back of his head, eyes watering.

“Fuck Ry, what’s wrong with you?”

Ryan glared at him. There wasn’t anything wrong with him. He just found a way to be happy, and it wasn’t wrong.

His fist came up to collide with Brendon’s face, but he ducked just in time, Ryan’s hand leaving a dent in the cheap cardboard walls of the hotel. Brendon slid down the wall, whimpering quietly as Ryan punched the wall above him once more. Brendon looked at him as he kicked the wall aggravated, dragging his fingers through his hair, pulling it in frustration.

Brendon wondered what had happened to Ryan. He was so small, he was so innocent, and yet, here he was on the verge of beating up his boyfriend, under the influence of drugs.

He wanted his Ryan back.

“I’m sorry.”

The small voice made Brendon look towards where Ryan was sitting on one of the beds. Brendon didn’t reply for a while, the only thing interrupting the heavy silence that was smothering them was sobs from Brendon’s mouth. It was a long time before either of them said anything.

“You need help Ry,” he announced, his voice just above a whisper, waiting for what reply he’d get.

“I know.”
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Re: (c) Through His Veins (R)

Post by FUCT up on Wed 05 Nov 2008, 5:39 am

Dude this story is fucking awesome (y)
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