Chapter Text
“Give us this day our daily dose of faux affliction.”
A voice that enchants the audience, that beckons them to listen in closer, shimmered off the walls of the dark crowded venue. Listen to me, Ryan thinks to himself, his eyes scanning up and down the crowd. He was begrudgingly aware by now that they were not here to hear him.
They’re here for my voice, Brendon flips between two of his most common thoughts, They’re here for Ryan’s words.
The band had been on the road non-stop for nearly a year now, and with only an album’s worth of songs in their repertoire, they had all grown very tired of playing the same tracks night after night. Now on their first major tour as a headlining act, they had decided to play with many of their songs’ arrangements in an effort to combat their boredom. I Constantly Thank God For Esteban was one of which they altered the most. Originally kicking off with high energy drums and bass, the opening was now much more sparse and intimate. It started purely on acoustic guitar, making it the only song where Jon could showcase his playing.
It was certainly the only song to feature Ryan on a banjo. The only point in the show where both Jon and Ryan would abandon their primary roles in the band.
The relationship between a guitarist and his bassist is special. It’s often overshadowed by that of the singer and guitarist, and the two of them rarely got to interact on stage. Being on opposite sides, it was almost as if Brendon himself were a barrier between them.
“Just stay where I can see you, douse the lights.”
Right up until the bridge of Esteban, the whole band had been seated, adding another sharp contrast to the rest of their high energy, fast moving set. Brendon’s words acting as a cue, Ryan and Jon quickly stood from their stools, rushing to their respective guitar and bass in time for the songs’ climax. With Brendon still sat at the piano, nothing stood in the way of his bandmates.
Jon was new. The baby of the band, despite being older than all of them. His integration was thankfully without issue, and he and Ryan grew very close very quickly. Jon proved to be one of the most versatile out of the core band, ranging from bass, keyboard, guitar, and whatever else was ever asked of him.
For the small solo towards the end - the only proper guitar solo on the album - Ryan and Jon got to see each other up close, shredding their instruments at one another. Ryan would get chills whenever Jon ran up to him, pulling at his hearty strings and biting his lip as they made eye contact for a fraction of a second, before splitting up again.
He looked forward to this every night, this few seconds where it was just the two of them in a little bubble, walking on air.
“Don’t you move!” Brendon powerfully belted the end of the final chorus, pounding sloppy chords into his piano. He looked towards Jon who was about to make contact with Ryan for the solo.
Screeeeech!
A drone of feedback pierced the air for only a second, and Jon was on the ground in front of Ryan, who didn’t even have time to react before the fallen man was already lifting himself off the ground. He gave a thumbs up once on his feet, dragging himself back to his mic. Brendon and Ryan both looked at Jon, then each other, then back to Jon.
Assuming things were okay, Ryan carried on for his solo. The show must go on.
They played it off pretty well, all things considered. Only a few at the front of the crowd even looked concerned. It wasn’t like it was the first time someone tripped on stage. This was a rock concert for crying out loud, people are always acting crazy and getting themselves hurt. It's par for the course.
Before closing out the show, Brendon introduced the band as he did every night, only this time taking the opportunity to make a joke about Jon’s accident.
Another perk of now being headliners is that they no longer had to rely on simplifying songs or playing to pre-recorded samples: with the addition of a cellist and keyboardist, Bartram and Eric, the band was able to fully serve their record justice. Further bringing the album to life, they brought along three cirque performers from the Lucent Dossier Experience.
“Hey, it was your damn mic cord,” Jon joshed back, pointing at the heap of cord center stage. He winced, sharp pain jutting through his forearm as he gestured.
Gentle cello echoed, marking the beginning of the finale. The extended intro gave Jon a chance to try and shake the pain out of his wrist before having to attempt Build God, Then We’ll Talk. It was by far the busiest bassline in the whole show, jumping all over the fretboard for nearly four minutes. He took a deep breath as Brendon sang the opening lines.
Throughout the whole song, Spencer tried to keep an eye on Jon the best he could. Stuck in the back on drums, Spencer always had a clear view of the whole band, often the first to know when something was wrong. Jon was certainly in worse shape than he was letting on; gritting his teeth any time he had to move up the neck of his bass.
Ryan kept to himself, hoping ignoring the situation would prevent it from existing.
Jon pushed through the last two minutes with a furrowed brow, doing anything he could to ignore the throbbing throughout his entire left arm. Think about puppies, ow. Think about Cassie, ow. Think about the fuckin’ song you’re playing, ow.
Miraculously, he survived.
The deafening cheers of a thousand teenage girls temporarily drowned any feelings the band had as everyone joined arms for the ending bow. Eric leaned into Jon’s ear, asking if he was alright. He replied only with an unfocused nod, straining to keep his arm straight. Spencer gave Jon a reassuring pat on the back as Bartram similarly asked Ryan about the incident, receiving no clear response. Brendon thanked the crowd one last time, before leading them all off-stage.
Waiting in the wings, the band’s right-hand man quickly met up with them, assessing Jon’s wrist. Zack was the tour’s final new addition to the band’s entourage. His role was informal, frequently filling in the gaps left by their very hands-off manager, who couldn’t be bothered to join them on the road. The closest to a title he had was as the group’s bodyguard, which was something they needed more and more as their fanbase rapidly grew in both number and intensity.
Further backstage lurked a member of the venue’s stage crew, who had just watched their whole performance from the sidelines. Since the moment of Jon’s fall, a plan had been brewing in her mind that she knew she had to make a reality. She needed this. The woman pushed through a sea of people, waving her arms towards the men who were now huddled around Jon. The way everyone surrounded him made it seem like he’d been in some sort of freak accident, only filling her with more hope. She had a golden opportunity here.
“Is he okay, how bad is it?” She panted as she arrived in front of them, looking concerningly at the man’s hand, analysing his condition with a subtle bite of her lip.
“It’s uh, kinda bad,” Jon weakly chuckled, “But I can still play, I mean-”
“Dude, no,” Spencer retorted, “This is actually serious.”
“Spencer’s right,” added Zack, “If you keep playing like that, you’re gonna fuck your wrist up real bad.”
Jon looked at his hand, then back up to the others, “we can’t just cancel a bunch of gigs.” His body tensed as the pulsing in his wrist harshened, nearly causing him to gasp out in pain. “But fuck, man… that last song felt like I was dyin’.” The group exchanged anxious glances, unsure what to do next. They all looked to Zack for an answer.
“So what I’m hearing is, y’all need a bassist?” The woman slyly interrupted, everyone’s focus darting towards her instead. “I know someone in the area who can play bass and more. Real fast learner, too.”
“No, no. We’ll figure something out, thank you,” Zack dismissed, turning away to walk the band to their dressing room.
“Wait, actually,” Spencer objected, pushing the large man aside. “If he’s like, good… I think we could use the help, honestly.”
Brendon nodded, a bit solemnly but a nod of agreement nonetheless, wrapping an arm around Jon.
“Yeah, I mean…” Jon considered, before exhaling a deflated sigh. “If you know a guy that could learn all of the parts in literally one day…”
“Whatever we can get, man.” Spencer finished with a hand on his hip.
Ryan was the only one unable to interject or agree on anything as he was far too busy trying not to lose his mind. They’d just lost a bassist months ago, replaced him, and now already had to find another replacement only a month into the tour? How could they replace Jon? He fit in so seamlessly, everybody adored him. He was more professional than Ryan had ever been. The band finally had a rock solid line-up. It was illogical to think that they could find someone on such short notice who would also be able to play with them for an indeterminate amount of time. It was impossible.
“Marvelous!” she paused as she evaluated each member of the group in front of her, “so… which one of you’s in charge? You?” Already prepared to discuss her pitch at length, she flicked her wrist towards Spencer. This assumption made Ryan visibly tense, though he remained silent.
The boys were swiftly shooed away by Zack, instructing them to get out of their stage clothes, adding a vague comment about their smell. The plotting woman suppressed a laugh as she watched Zack speak to the band like children. He would handle this, he assured as they trudged away.
“Right, I’m Hazel- call me Hazy,” She started again once the four were out of sight. “I work here, obviously,” she held up a lanyard with her badge and explained how she had met the band here last summer when they first played in Norfolk.
Zack nodded in acknowledgement, getting straight to the point. “Can he sing? Play keyboards?”
Hazy smirked as she wrote a number on a wrinkled piece of paper she thankfully had been fiddling with in her jacket pocket, “Oh, she sure can.”
✺ ✺ ✺
“Okay, yup.” A young woman paced the room, twirling a finger in her curls and raising an eyebrow towards her friend Charlie who was watching curiously. “Mhm, Sadie Harper’s the name. Yeah- Okay! Thank you so much. I’ll be there bright and early.” The instant she hung up, a wide smile crept upon her face.
Charlie eagerly tugged on Sadie’s arm, shaking it up and down. “What is it- what happened?” She was smiling too, despite only having heard bits and pieces of the conversation.
Sadie sat on the edge of Charlie’s bed, patting a spot on the blanket next to her, “You remember Hazy, yeah?”
Charlie nodded, plopping next to her with a creak of the bed frame.
“Apparently, some band at the NorVa had a little mishap.” Sadie took a deep breath, “They need someone to play bass on tour.”
“Well, C’mon, who’s the band?” Charlie prompted impatiently, “are they big? Do you know ‘em? Do I know ‘em?”
“Yeah, probably, it’s Panic! At The Disco,” Sadie snickered as Charlie stared at her blankly. “Y’know, ‘I chimed in-?’”
“Shit!” Charlie’s eyes lit up, bouncing on her knees excitedly. “Those guys are pretty huge, aren’t they?”
“Dunno really,” Sadie pondered, “I‘ve heard that one a few times on the radio, at least.”
“Ugh, I wish I could come with…” Charlie swooned back on her bed. “I think I’ve seen a picture or two of them, they might be pretty cute.”
Sadie just scoffed, choosing not to humor her friend, narrowly avoiding another hour of boy-talk. If Charlie tagged along, she’d probably end up on the front cover of some teen gossip magazine, claiming to have slept with every member of the band.
“I guess… this means you won’t be staying here?” Charlie sighed rather disappointedly and squeezed one of her plushies tight to her chest.
“It does,” she patted her friend’s leg reassuringly. “I’ve gotta leave Tuesday morning, like ‘ass crack of dawn’ early,” a heavy feeling of exhaustion hung in her chest as she emphasized the word ‘early.’ “But hey, you know I’ll be back soon.”
How ‘soon’ that would be was far from clear, but it was enough for Charlie to accept. Sadie was a girl who constantly got pulled every which way by everyone, making her an enigma to anyone who had the brief pleasure of knowing her. She was always staying at somebody else’s house, always playing in somebody else’s show. She had connections from all over the country, yet never seemed to stay in one place for more than a few weeks.
Sadie was already regretting all the snacks she had throughout the night as they threatened to escape from her throat. The room around her seemed to rotate, though it wasn’t spinning nearly as fast as her head. In less than 48 hours, she’d be on stage with the biggest act she’d ever been a part of. An act she had barely 24 hours to learn. The realization almost made her collapse, but as usual for her in dire times, apprehension was swiftly replaced by adrenaline. She swallowed and began making a mental checklist, instinctively standing to once again pace back and forth, staring down at various patterns in the aged wooden floor.
I can do this.
Some silent moments later, Sadie went through her list one last time, nodding along with her thoughts. “Guess I’ll be needing a bass.”
And a miracle.
“Remind me tomorrow to call Hazy and tell her I owe her my life.” Sadie shakily chuckled, running her fingers up through her hair, brushing away any last bit of self-doubt.
Charlie gave an enthusiastic thumbs-up, and the rest of the night consisted of meticulous preparation. Sadie was incredibly grateful she had someone like Charlie there to bounce logistics off of and help keep her mind in gear. Charlie was a bit of a loose cannon, always firing on all cylinders and often lost in a world of her own. But she cared deeply for her friends; her high energy made her just about the best cheerleader anyone could ask for. Even if it wasn’t the Guitar Hero and gossip filled all-nighter they originally planned, she was more than happy to play a part in what could be Sadie’s big break. She only requested 100% of any and all royalties, along with her own fleet of private yachts.
Time swiftly passed the girls by, and when they heard birds calling, they settled down in Charlie’s bed for a morning nap. Sadie already knew there was no way in hell she’d manage anymore sleep tonight, so every second of shut-eye was crucial. She only managed a couple hours before she was forced awake by another night terror.
After a few minutes of basking in both the dread of her nightmare and the knowledge of how busy the day ahead would be, Sadie rolled over and gently shook her friend awake. They both pulled themselves out of bed and groggily sauntered into the kitchen for some much needed coffee. The first cup of many. It didn’t take long for them to be back at full-energy; the fire under their asses was already waking them faster than any cup of coffee could. As their caffeine boost set in, Sadie and Charlie quickly threw on presentable clothes and rushed out the front door.
With Charlie acting as chaperone, she slumped into the driver's seat, sticking her key-chain riddled keys into the ignition. Sadie never got comfortable with driving. She loved the open road, but there was something about being the one behind the wheel that made her uncomfortable in a way she could never properly articulate. Even if she were a masterful motorist, she’d take the role of passenger princess any day.
It was only a half hour drive to the local guitar shop, but every minute Sadie watched tick away on the car’s display made it feel like more than an eternity. After roughly two and a half eternities, they arrived. And so, she acquired a bass. A bass that would hopefully not put her in debt for too long. How much did he say I was getting paid, anyhow? Always travelling with her guitar, she thankfully wouldn’t have to buy a case for her new toy. Gotta save money somewhere.
Next, she needed to hear what these dudes actually sounded like.
They drove to the nearest big box retailer, hoping to quickly grab the band’s CD and move on with the remainder of their errands. Much to Sadie’s annoyance, they were out of copies. Three different stores later, every employee still gave her the same answer. Sold out.
How big are these guys?
Frustrated and not wanting to waste any more time, she made note that she’d buy it later. “Guess I’ll be takin’ a trip to LimeWire when we get home.” Sadie huffed cynically as they got back into the car. Lastly, they went and bought Sadie’s bus ticket in advance, not wanting to risk hearing the words ‘sold out’ again when they arrived tomorrow morning. 5:00am, 06/27/06, one way ticket northbound.
They originally planned on trying to thrift Sadie some proper stage clothes, but after a wild goose chase and the misfortune that is Virginia Beach traffic, they decided to cut their losses and head back. She still had an album to download. And listen to. And learn.
On the ride home she took the chance to give Hazy a call, thanking and praising her efforts endlessly. She still struggled to believe there was someone out there that would stick their neck out for her. Sadie promised to take her out for the world’s juiciest steak next time she was in the area. That and give Hazy her own fleet of private yachts. Once back at the house, Sadie clumsily slammed the car door behind her as she bolted back inside, her bass firmly grasped in her left hand. She rushed straight to Charlie’s laptop, gently setting her new axe down beside her. It didn’t take long for her to find a rip of their album online; the grueling part would be waiting for the download to finish.
To say the WiFi at Charlie’s house was slow would be a vast understatement, but it was certainly better than no internet at all. Then she really would’ve been screwed. The download was progressing just enough that she could tell it wasn’t stuck, but only just. Way too much downtime on her hands, she typed the band’s name into Google. Nearly all of the available bandwidth was going towards the album, any webpage she tried clicking on took multiple minutes to load. With great patience, she made it to a brief bio on the band. It didn’t give her too much to work with, but she at least now knew the names of the three men she’d soon be joining.
Spencer Smith, Brendon Urie, and Ryan Ross.
She chose to not use up anymore of the internet, needing to actually hear the record sometime within the next decade. Feeling her vision begin to blur, she was harshly reminded she was running on a critically empty stomach. She left the desk, whipping together a lazy meal for herself and Charlie. By the time Sadie got back to the computer, the download was finally, finally complete. Time to meet A Fever You Can’t Sweat Out.
Before hitting play, she rolled her eyes at some of the excessively long song titles. A few wouldn’t even fully display in her media player. The album began with an Introduction track that was a short sound collage scanning through various vintage sounding radio stations. Sadie thought it was cute. The band was certainly tight; the whole record had a very polished sound for a bunch of boys only a year and some change out of high school. A few songs in it also became apparent the lyrics were interested in saying a bit more than typical teenage angst. At the very least, they were a more complicated form of teenage angst. Sadie appreciated the various synths littered throughout the first half of the record, some sections even swapping traditional rock drum and bass for dance beats. She was always a sucker for blending genres.
Hyper dance music was jarringly interrupted by the return of radio static, followed by an old-timey announcer introducing a piano interlude. It was a major shift for the album. It sounded like it was recorded in a bathroom via walkie-talkie. Charming. From there, the album consistently evolved its soundscape. All the synths had been wiped, being replaced by jazz piano and elaborate acoustic instrumentation. The core of the songs remained consistent with the first half, but the outer layers could not be more distinct. There weren’t many teen pop sensations that employed the use of whimsical accordions and haunting strings. That was so last century.
Sadie left her first run through the album much more impressed than she initially expected to be. Many of the young emo bands that were currently plaguing alternative stations often grated her, but the boys truly seemed to have something that set them apart from many other teen rock groups. A decent songwriter. She felt just a bit more excited to have the chance to be involved.
Over the next few weeks she’d have lots of time to further analyze the artistic vision of the album, but for now, there was only one thing she could devote her focus towards. Bass. Bass. Bass. She hastily began dragging the song files into Audacity, applying a clever chain of EQ to highlight the basslines. Setting her bass on her knee, she got right to learning the first track by ear. Sadie was far from classically trained. She had some failed guitar lessons as a young girl, but she didn’t retain a note. For all practical purposes, she was completely self taught; if she didn’t have a chord book, she learned most everything by ear.
She may not always play in the most conventional ways, but she could always get the part down. Sadie got comfortable in the worn office chair as she finished committing the opening to memory. It was going to be an incredibly dense afternoon.
Afternoon promptly faded into evening and as evening became night, Sadie remained glued to the desk, absorbing song after song, running through the full album as many times as she could. By the time she was satisfied, it was already nearing two in the morning. Desperately pouring the last drop of coffee down her gullet, she wiped her forehead as she rose from the computer with wobbly legs, strained from sitting. Less than two hours to go.
“You still haven’t packed?! Do you know what time it is?!” Charlie gasped as she emerged from the bedroom after a second nap. The sudden noise greatly startled Sadie, nearly causing the poor girl to lose her balance.
“Hey, hey chillax. Not like it’s gonna take long,” Sadie ensured as she rubbed her temples, firmly planting her feet on the ground. She stepped across the room, opening up her guitar case and pulling out a sunburst acoustic. “Guess you’ll be keeping Sabrina,” she sighed with a gentle ‘farewell’ strum, setting the instrument down on the couch. Bass now in its case, she gathered the rest of her two bags worth of belongings. Always on the move, she couldn’t afford to keep much with her. Most of her valuables ended up at various friend’s houses over the years.
She hoped she'd find an opportunity while on tour to acquire some cuter clothes. For now, she worked with what she had, dawning a black skirt with a navy striped blouse, topped with a grey brimmed-beanie. Bags on her shoulders and guitar case in hand, she looked ready to tour the world. She tried her hardest to be convinced that she was ready.
Taking off in her friend’s car one last time, they cruised with the windows cranked all the way down, basking in the cool early summer air. With few cars on the road, it didn’t take long for them to arrive at the bus station. Sunlight just barely loomed under the horizon as the girls stared down the dark, near-empty parking lot. In contrast, across sat a lone bus with a large group of people scattered across its length, all set to embark on the same depressingly early commute.
“Okay, so, rules!” Charlie began as they both crawled out of the car, “Number one, you have to call me every day. Especially after you get there… I can’t risk you getting murdered by a band of psychos and you not telling me!” It was hard to tell how much Charlie was joking, but Sadie assured her she would call as much as she could.
“Number two, don’t let fame totally destroy you. You can’t come back to visit if you’re like, a crazy snobby bitch,” Charlie paused for a moment. “Unless you bring presents,” she giggled with a devious grin. “Number three… have, like, the best time of your life. No matter what. No buts,” she finished with a squeal, quickly pulling Sadie in a claustrophobic hug.
Sadie squeezed her friend tight, placing a gentle kiss on her cheek before pulling away, walking with her to the bus that had already started boarding. “I promise I’ll be back to visit soon, famous or otherwise. Not that I won’t bring presents,” she chuckled, knowing Charlie would definitely hold her to that.
Prolonging no longer, Sadie stepped in line, being one of the last few people to board. “Take good care of Sabs for me! Don’t forget to feed and water her twice a day!” She shouted from the steps of the bus, getting one last quip out before she left Charlie and the state of Virginia behind.
With too many cups of coffee to count coursing through her veins, Sadie bounced her leg as she sat on the Greyhound bus. Her bass was safely kept in the seat beside her, costing the ‘small’ fee of an entire extra ticket. No way was she going to let her new baby get damaged in the luggage bay. She had the band’s album blaring through her headphones on loop, loud enough to where she received a few strange looks from those sitting near her. She didn’t care. To her, that album may as well have been the only noise in the entire world that day. Sadie crammed the drive with as much last minute studying as she could manage, writing many frantic, scattered notes.
Before she knew it, the bus had pulled into the terminal.
Hopping off the bus and quickly catching a cab, she wondered what the band’s travel situation might be. Surely a band as up and coming as Panic! wouldn’t be cramped inside another shitty, smelly van. At least, she hoped. Maybe they were full of it and had contracts demanding only the most luxurious tour bus, complete with gold plated floors and diamond studded toilets. She rested her eyes as she thought up other absurdities, smiling to herself.
Driving deeper into the city, Sadie noted how run down the streets became as they approached the venue. It really was just like any other shady club she played, nothing fancy or intimidating about it. Stepping out of the cab, she breathed in the air of Washington, D.C.
Among the boarded up windows and cracked sidewalks stood the 9:30 Club, the first stop on her journey and nowhere near the last. Clouds overhead cast a gloomy atmosphere on the building; half of the exterior was overgrown by moss, making the whole place feel abandoned. Parked along the side of the venue - the first sign that this was in fact the right place - was the band’s tour bus with a small group of young girls prowling around it. Sadie liked the color.
She turned into a narrow alleyway, her stride faltering as she approached the side entrance. This was it, she internally affirmed. She had practiced and studied as much as she physically could, spent more money to get here than she truly had, but she did it. She made it. She needed this. Now all she had to do was be her charming, easy-going self.
Don’t fuck it up.
She took one final deep breath before continuing forward. The cramped alley was already packed with fans hoping to catch a glimpse of the band, much to Sadie’s surprise. It was early. “Hey, uhh… I’m with the band?” she informed the man at the door, who squinted, carefully examining her. A few in the crowd cast Sadie a dirty look for seemingly cutting ahead.
As the guard briefly retreated inside to confirm, one of the girls taunted Sadie, “Slut!”
She threw her head back, but the clump of fans all acted aloof, like nothing was said at all. Before she could retort, a large man pulled her inside.
“Jeez, I thought for sure it was about to be pitchforks and torches out there,” Sadie tittered as she brushed off her skirt. “Thanks.”
“Sure thing. They’re rabid out there, man. Never seen anything like it.” He introduced himself as Zack, the man she had spoken to on the phone. If he was the band’s bodyguard, he was certainly well cast. He seemed four times the size of any crazed teenage girl that could try and tear the boys to shreds.
Without another word, Zack led her to the room where they’d be rehearsing. Sadie felt dizzy walking down the restrictive hallways that were barely wide enough for the two to walk side by side. Despite her inner anxiety, outwardly she appeared as collected and self-assured as ever.
Stood outside the door that would soon divide her life into two distinct halves, she exhaled sharply. Murmured conversation and scattered laughter leaked through under the door, the first signs of her new bandmates. She didn’t know what to expect when she turned the doorknob. She had even less of an idea of who they were expecting to waltz in. Would they even like her? She hoped they at least had a decent sense of humor. If they hated her and were dull as dishwater, she might just snap.
This was Panic! At The Disco, a group Sadie was learning more and more about, but still had no clue what they were like as people. At the least, the fact that she was there at all confirmed one thing.
They were desperate.