Envy.

A desire to have a quality, possession, or other desirable tribute belonging to someone else.

Artist: @wclvesvshearts on Tumblr.

Plot: Brendon isn't obsessed. He's just sorta, kinda, totally infatuated with his bandmate, Ryan, and the fantasy of them being a couple. It isn't a problem. But what IS a problem is the lengths he'll go to obtain that fantasy.

::

I'm not supposed to give a shit.

The fans, they slap labels on all four of us. Spencer is the bitch. Jon, the laid back guy who is constantly high. Ryan is delicate and vulnerable, but also smart. He's the rock. And I am the careless guy, the eye candy.

I'm Brendon, and I'm not supposed to give a shit. And yet?

I really do. At least, I give a shit about him.

It's always been him.

Because I am utterly in love with Ryan Ross. And I just majorly fucked something up.

Now you may be asking me, when did I realize I liked him? Why did I?

I guess it all started when we met...

I was young. We all were. This kid, this stupid kid named Brent, who I didn't like much and didn't know well, asked me to fill in for his bands guitarist one night at practice. I, at the time, was a goofy choir kid with a bowl cut and parents who were always insisting that I socialize more. I loved music. I always had, so I had agreed. It seemed cool.

We had shuffled into the space they used to practice. I was wearing a beat-up shirt for a Christian Rock band and ugly jeans. Probably not the best impression to make, but I hadn't cared. They were two guys who went to Bishop Gorman: my schools rival. I wasn't exactly thrilled.

"This is Spencer..." Brent started, motioning to a guy with shaggy hair and blue eyes. He seemed kind enough, but I saw him give me a once-over, and I frowned.

"Ryan is running behind." Spencer said to Brent, who nodded. "Who.. who is Ryan?" I asked, and Spencer smiled. "Lead singer."

"Huh. Nice." I mumbled, picking lint off my shirt. "You read over the chords Brent gave you, right?" Spencer asked, glancing at my guitar. I scoffed. "Yeah. They're pretty basic."

Spencer gave me a haughty look. "Okay." He said, cocking his hip. "Hopefully you can keep up."

I had glared. "I think I'll manage, thanks."

Spencer scowled, twirling a drumstick between nimble fingers before walking over to his drum kit. Brent blinked. "Woah. You stood your ground. The only person who talks to him like that is..."

"Ryan!" Spencer called, and we all turned to see a guy. A gorgeous guy. Who was staring right at me.

He was tall and thin, with hair that fell to his jawline and a pretty, pretty smile. "Spencer." He said, his eyes still fixed on my face. I shivered involuntarily. This was the lead singer? His voice was a monotone, dull and flat. I couldn't imagine any melodious sounds leaving his lips.

"Is this the kid?" He asked, and I flinched. Kid? I was no kid.

"My name is Brendon." I had said, and Ryan smiled, looking my body up and down slowly. "Hmm. Hi, Brendon." He said, an odd look on his features.

I might have imagined it, because he turned to the others, clapping his hands loudly. "Let's go."

And... we went.

That evening, after practice, everyone packed up their instruments and slowly left, leaving Ryan and I alone. He stared at me as I lovingly set my guitar in its case, humming quietly. As I stood, he stepped closer.

"Brendon." He said, and I blinked at the proximity. "You're talented. Better than our other guy, and more likable."

I had hardly said a word during the entire practice. How was I more likable?

"Would you want a permanent spot?" He had asked, eyes searching my face for something that only he could see. I swallowed. I didn't want to be one of those lame scene kids in a band that wouldn't go anywhere. But something about Ryan's gaze, his smile and the words he had sang made me want to stay.

"Yeah. That would be nice." I mumbled, and Ryan smiled, stepping even closer, so our noses brushed. "Nice?" He asked, as if I should say more.

"That would be really nice." I said sarcastically, and Ryan chuckled, low and deep in his throat, like roiling thunder.

"I like you. You're feisty." He mumbled, and before I knew what was happening, his lips were attached to mine. He smelled like vanilla and tasted like pot, and it wasn't my first kiss, but it was the first kiss that made me crave more.

There weren't any sloppy tongues colliding or groping that happened that night. Maybe, eventually, it would have become that, but my cell phone had buzzed, my mother wanting me home for dinner.

Maybe, if I had put on a show for him, things would have been different.

But... probably not.

::

So, it turned out that Ryan was in a relationship. An on and off one, granted, but a very tangible, very real relationship. Spencer had told me this through clenched teeth, when I had inquired about his relationship status.

He had also informed me that Ryan was straight.

::

It took a while for me to become acclimated to being in a band, to make friends with everyone. Brent was moody, Spencer was bitchy, and I stuttered every time I tried to talk to Ryan, who was acting like the kiss had never happened, leaving me in a state of confusion. Eventually, Spencer stopped being so nasty towards me. Brent wasn't as moody. I let my walls down around Ryan. We continued our quartet for a few months harmoniously.

Then Ryan got laryngitis. He was well enough to attend practice, but couldn't sing at all. We were rehearsing the instrumentals, Ryan glowering at us from a plastic folding chair and whisper-yelling when we messed up. Finally, Brent made a low noise in the back of his throat. "Shut up, Ross!" He snapped. "I'm sorry that you fucked your voice up. If you want to make sure we sound okay, join in yourself."

"And how," Ryan had rasped, "am I supposed to do that?"

"I don't know! Urie, you sing." Brent said, and I had blinked. "Me?"

"No, the other Urie."

Ryan didn't look happy, but he was clearly aggravated and bored, as were the rest of us.

"Don't butcher my songs." Ryan said to me, almost snatching my guitar. I shot him a wounded look. Normally he would have apologized or at least softened his harsh gaze, but he was nasally and sick and probably miserable.

I made up excuses for him a lot. At the time, I hadn't realized why.

I knew why he was so protective: Ryan's songs were his babies. I didn't know much about his home life, but the lyrics said enough. No one who is truly happy writes the line "I am alone in this bed, house, and head."

I would have warmed up his bed if he had let me. But he didn't. He never looked at me like he did at Liz, his girlfriend.

But it was whatever. I'd be okay.

"One. Two. One, two, three." I squeaked into the microphone, like Ryan did every time. The other three began playing, Ryan a bit hesitantly. I let my eyes flutter shut, beginning to sing Camisado.

When we finished, the entire room was silent. A blush had spread across my cheeks, and I gulped. "What is it?"

"You didn't tell us..." Ryan started, blinking something that looked like tears out of his eyes. I frowned. "What?"

Spencer exchanged an incredulous glance with Brent. "Sing the chorus of Nails."

I obliged. Spencer's eyes bugged out of his skull. Ryan was pale, his face confused yet amazed.

"You didn't tell us that you could sing." He finished, and I frowned, crossing my arms defensively across my chest.

"I... I didn't realize that I could."

That was the day Ryan and I switched roles. It was also the day Ryan stopped giving me sexual looks and secret smirks.

I could tell whatever lust he had felt for me was replaced by hope for the bands future and maybe, secretly, a bit of anger and envy.

We were all consumed by envy.

It's what caused our downfall.

When Ryan and Liz broke up, he came to me. Not Spencer, me.

My parents had kicked me out by then, angry about my refusal to pursue higher education. They told me that the band wouldn't succeed. I told them they were wrong. I had faith in Ryan, faith in my voice.

That night, Ryan knocked on the door of my shitty apartment, crying. I brought him upstairs, and we made frozen waffles in my junky toaster. They were burnt on the edges and cold in the middle, but I didn't care.

He told me that Liz had cheated, that she was with a plethora of other guys. We cursed her out together, Ryan vowing to write multiple breakup songs. That night was fantastic. We bonded, really bonded, and we were so happy.

For the first time ever, I thought there was hope for me and Ryan, romantically.

I was a fool, blinded by puppy love and an obsession that was getting a little too strong.

Little did I know that the obsession would only grow.

::

Jac.

I hated Jac.

I thought Ryan was so stupid for falling in love with a scrawny blonde scene queen. Why her? What was special about her?

I didn't know, but I knew one thing: I wasn't going to let any girl get in the way of my fate. Liz, she screwed up by herself. I didn't need to break what was already destroyed. But any other girls?

Well, they were fair game.

::

What do you do when you need to find flaws in a seemingly perfect relationship?

You become an insider.

Enter Audrey Kitching.

The internet fucking ate us up, two 'emo' rockers and two scene queens. Gag. I wasn't attracted to Audrey at all: she was convenient. She seemed to fawn over me, though.

Jac and Ryan weren't so perfect once you looked at them closely. Ryan was insecure about everything, still stinging from his breakup with Liz. Jac drank. Ryan, he wasn't a big fan of alcohol, for obvious reasons. A weak spot. One of many.

A few months into our relationship, we planned to spend a week at Jac's UCLA dorm. It was the perfect time to attack.

Surprisingly, it was fun. Sure, kissing and fucking Audrey was a chore, but she was like a manic pixie when we just hung out. We had a half-assed foursome, the girls demanding that Ryan and I make out, something I happily obliged. We got shitty junk food, drove around in the dark, and the girls gave me hair extensions. I made nice with Jac, wanting her to trust me.

One of our last nights together was low-key. Jac and Audrey took shots of watermelon vodka, and we smoked pot and.. talked. Eventually, Audrey and Ryan went off to bed, leaving Jac and I alone in the living room of the hotel we had rented.

See, Jac had a fear of commitment. Maybe it stemmed from divorced parents, maybe from the reluctance of being boring. Whatever the case, she wasn't exactly comfortable with the constant spooning and cuddling Ryan wanted.

"You know," I said, taking a hit off of the joint we were passing back and forth. "You and Ryan make such an awesome couple."

She giggled, batting her overly lined eyes. "Really? Aw. You and Auds are cuties, too." She said, and I pursed my lips.

"Yeah, but you and Ryan have such a... comfortable vibe. He always gushes about how he wants to marry you, how he can see himself writing albums about you, having kids..." I said, fixing a dorky smile on my face. I could see Jac visibly pale.

"He said that?" She asked slowly, twisting a lock of bleached hair around her finger. I nodded, head bobbing. "Yup! He just adores you."

Jac looked nauseated.

"Huh. Huh... he sure is a romantic." She said, and I smiled. "I know! I mean, look at those LiveJournal posts..."

She gulped. I was sure I'd struck a nerve. When Ryan got intense, he got intense.

"I think I'm gonna sleep, Bden." She said slowly, standing. "Good talk."

I watched her walk towards the beds, a smile on my face. "Okay!" I called, reaching for my Sidekick. "Night!"

I was pretty sure that that was the beginning of the end.

::

Two weeks later, Ryan showed up to my house, eyes red rimmed. He announced that Jac had ended it. He smelled like whiskey and sweat. He had never drank before.

We had sex three times, insatiable.

When I woke in the morning, Ryan was gone.

It stung, but I had hope for us. Clearly, Ryan was in love with me.

::

We won a VMA. We were ALL astonished, particularly Ryan. I saw him crying, after the show, overwhelmed. He never expected to get that far.

It was the perfect night to tell him how I felt.

But before I could...

He met Keltie. Obstacle Number 3.

::

The thing that fucking sucked about Keltie is that she was so... damn... lovable. Everyone in the band adored her. Well, except for me. Ryan was totally in love. Me? I didn't see what Keltie had that I didn't. Pretty brown eyes? Check. Lithe body? Check. Bubbly personality? Check.

Whatever. It was only a matter of time until I'd wreck their relationship, too. I should have been emotional, should have felt bad, but all I felt was rage and disgust.

I had even stopped being emotional about the fact that Ryan didn't want me. Because secretly, I knew he did. Why would he not?

Those kisses, they meant something.

It wasn't even just about the romantic fixation anymore. It was the fact that I fucking deserved Ryan, that Ryan would be a prize of all the manipulation and hard work that I had put in. I'd preen over it and fucking adore my prize. Much more than Keltie ever could.

I deserved Ryan Ross.

::

Now, I didn't just ignore all possible love interests. For example, I met a girl on tour who temporarily quenched the lust and obsession I felt for Ryan. Her name was Sarah, and she was pretty enough, with a kind look in her eyes. She clung onto every word I said. I liked that. I liked that a lot.

But of course, she was taken.

We exchanged numbers, regardless, but I quickly forgot about her later that night, when Ryan emerged from the showers, hair stuck to his face, lips parted. And then I remembered why I was so infatuated with him in the first place.

::

It all fell apart when Ryan proposed. Fucking Ryan, the hapless romantic. No one, including Keltie, saw it coming, but I knew I had to act fast.

Toying with Keltie's weaknesses wouldn't work. I wasn't a fucking child anymore, I was all grown up, fixated on Ryan completely.

They were in love. Apparently. Fucking with trust issues wouldn't work. I had to obliterate their relationship. Something that would infuriate Keltie, ruin any chance of recollection. I also wanted to make it hurt. Keltie deserved a little bit of pain.

I sat awake for hours, musing over how to do it. And then, inspiration struck.

Cheating. Not just cheating, but Ryan cheating on her with his best friend. And she'd find out on Valentine's Day.

Perfect.

::

The next day, I woke at 7 AM. Keltie had tweeted a picture of Ryan's sleeping face, captioning it with something cheesy and romantic. Knowing her, she was downstairs, making breakfast. And knowing Ryan, he left his phone unlocked on the counter, right there for Keltie to see.

I poured steaming coffee into a mug, sitting on the kitchen counter, legs dangling down as I called Ryan, letting the phone ring. After a few rings, the line clicked, and I spoke before Keltie could inform me that it was her. I heard her soft, feminine breaths right away though. It was definitely her.

"Hey, baby." I purred, imagining the look of confusion that was probably adorning her features. "I miss you. Can't wait to taste you tonight.." I husked, really drawing it out. God, she would be furious. I almost giggled in delight, but stopped myself. I had a role to play.

"B-Brendon? Oh my God!" She stuttered, and I smirked to myself. "Keltie?!" I cried, my tone shocked. In reality, I was calmly examining my cuticles. "Oh, no! This isn't what it sounds like.."

I could hear her sniffling softly, and a small smile spread across my face. "I can't believe this. You asshole..." She whimpered. I rolled my eyes. "Kelt, don't blame Ryan!" I cried, and she let out a small sob. "Of course I'm going to blame him!"

Perfect.

She hung up, and I grinned. I knew she wouldn't say WHY she was upset, would just storm out. Good for her. Idiot.

Sure enough, Ryan called me a few hours later, voice choked up.

Surprisingly, I didn't feel any sympathy.

Just joy.

::

Ryan healed. Keltie didn't, tweeting and blubbering all over social media. Ryan's reputation took a hit, but no one cared about Panic enough to give him major flack. If I cheated, maybe it would be a big thing. But no one cared about the guitarist of a one-hit wonder band and a Rockette.

We continued touring, singing, and fucking random girls. Ryan in particular. I didn't care. It wasn't until one stayed that I would really start to get mad.

Which brings us to earlier today. Where one was in danger of staying.

We had been in South Africa for a few days, hanging out on vacation. It was blissful and fun... until Ryan met her.

They had been dancing around each other for a few days, but I could tell Ryan was infatuated, his feelings stronger than hers. When he got up to use the bathroom, I leaned over towards her. She peeked up at me, blue eyes hidden under a waterfall of blonde hair. God, Ryan had a type.

"Word of advice: he has chlamydia." I said smoothly, and she blanched, eyes wide. "Really?" She asked, and I nodded. "Probably other stuff, too. He sleeps with a lot of hookers."

I heard a throat clear behind us, and we both turned to see Ryan, who looked horrified and confused. She glared at him. "Asshole." She snarled, standing and stomping out of the bar. Ryan blinked, focusing on me.

"Why did you say that? I don't have an STD."

"Oh," I said, snorting. "Joking. Haha."

Ryan gave me an uneasy smile. "Right." He said slowly. "Want another drink?"

::

That night, Ryan messaged me to meet in his room. My heart leaped in my throat. Yes! Yes, yes, yes.

Swallowing, I got ready, eyeing myself nervously in the mirror, before walking off to Ryan's room. The door was ajar, so I opened it.

Ryan was sitting on the bed, smirking. His shirt was unbuttoned, showing off smooth, tanned skin. I stared.

"Come here. I have something to tell you." He husked, crooking a finger. I practically glided over, eyes huge. He smiled, putting his lips next to my ear.

This was it. My moment. He was finally gonna tell me that he was in love!

"You're a piece of shit." He whispered, and I blinked. "W-What?"

"You are a piece of fucking shit. Why have you been breaking up me and my girlfriends?" He asked angrily, and my lips parted. No. No, no. I had been so careful!

"I don't know what you're talking about." I lied, shrugging, although my wide eyes instantly gave me away. "Don't lie," He hissed angrily, standing and pointing a long finger at me, "I heard you earlier. I don't care what you say, that wasn't a fucking joke. That was purposeful. And then I started thinking. Why was your phone number in my call history the morning Keltie broke up with me? Why did Jac think that I wanted marriage when it so clearly wasn't long-term? Why has every single fling ended suddenly? At first, I thought I was just a hopeless fucking case. Doomed. But it all points back to you, Bren. All of it. You've been screwing up my life, and I want to know why."

I stared. "You know. You have to know, Ryan, you're so fucking insightful. You must know."

"Brendon, I don't know." He said impatiently, crossing his arms angrily. "So enlighten me, please."

I closed my eyes. Swallowed.

"I'm in love with you." I whispered, and it was dead silent.

Until he started cackling.

"You love me?" He asked, his eyes full of tears as he laughed incredulously. My face turned crimson. "Yeah, I fucking love you! What's the problem with that?"

He snorted, wiping his eyes. "Oh boy. Nothing is wrong with it, per se, but... what do you know about love, Brendon?" He asked condescendingly, and I narrowed my eyes.

"I know a lot about love! More than you, Mr. Failed Relationships." I said crossly, and he narrowed his eyes, laughter ceasing. "Those failed relationships aren't my fault." He snapped, and I laughed, putting a hand on my hip. "Puh-lease. You would have wrecked them anyway." I hissed.

"What's that supposed to mean?!" He all but shrieked, and I grinned nastily. "You're a poet, Ryan Ross. You love tragedy, heartbreak, drama. It's a natural flair. Your relationships with normal girls are going to crash and burn. It's the only thing you know how to do." I said confidently, stepping closer.

"Then why are you even ruining them, if you know that our relationship would only fail?" He asked, and I grinned. "Because I know you, Ryan. We're destined for each other: two poets, two lovers. Us against the world. I'll fix you so you won't break us. We could be beautiful!" I said eagerly. Ryan snickered, the laugh icy and full of fury.

"Brendon," He said firmly, "I am straight. And you aren't a fucking poet. You aren't an intellectual, you aren't even that smart. You're a child. A confused little boy!"

I blinked. "But... what about our kiss? The sex?" I breathed, and Ryan rolled his eyes. "What do you want me to say, Bren? You were energetic, adoring, and with that ass and those eyes, you passed as a girl. I was young, and stupid, and I shouldn't have done it, but I thought you knew that they were... mistakes. Simple mistakes."

I blinked, my eyes welling up slightly. "I'm... a mistake?" I had squeaked, and Ryan leaned in, his lips close to mine. Foolishly, I fluttered my eyes shut, expecting to be kissed.

"You're a giant one. I've never taken you seriously. Neither has Jon, or the fans. You're the childish boy in the purple hoodie. Always will be. And now? You won't even have your poet you apparently love." He said, shaking his head. "Get out of my room, Bren."

I blinked, jaw dropping. "What?!" I cried. He bared his teeth. "Us? This band? It's done. It has been for a very long time. You were too infatuated to see it. Or maybe just stupid." He said, walking forward and shoving me slightly. "Get. Out. Of. My. Room."

And just like that, I left.

Fine. Ryan didn't realize how perfect we would be together? I'd fucking show him.

I'll fucking show him.

Which leads us to the present. Right now. Where I'm in my room, formulating a plan. Ryan says the band is over. But the thing is, Ryan isn't the main factor of the band, the leading force.

Writers are replaceable. But me? I'm not.

I may be a child in his eyes, but I can still pull some fucking strings.

Fine. He wants to leave, he can. He can take the others with him for all I care.

Really, I'm the only one who matters.

I don't need Ryan, or my one sided love. I'll show him.

Without a second thought, I grab my sidekick, dialing the number I never thought I'd use.

"Hey, Sarah? It's Brendon Urie. Look, I'm sorry for the bad timing, I know it's late, but gossip flows throughout the label, and I found out some interesting stuff about your boyfriend that I thought I'd fill you in on..."