day one: 980/50 000
This is basically going to be posted as I write it, regardless of the word count or whatever, so. As a warning.
Anyway!
When Spencer wakes up, it's quiet in his head -- there's a song Ryan was humming before he fell asleep last night playing on endless repeat, and he really should say something about the fact that even though Ryan doesn't get songs stuck in his head, Spencer does. Often. And it's kind of cruel. Other than that, though, it's perfectly silent, which means that Ryan must still be asleep (on the couch, probably, since Spencer can't hear his breathing). Strange, since Spencer heard him fall asleep last night, but they're on break right now, so mostly Spencer just hopes that Ryan gets enough sleep and eats, and leaves the rest up to whoever's governing the universe. He wakes up a little more, then, and realizes two things in quick succession. One: their lovely queen-size bed has turned into something slightly smaller than a twin. When he opens his eyes, he amends that to "slightly smaller than a twin and also in a dark box" because he barely has to stretch his arm out to touch the ceiling, and there is a wall right next to his left shoulder. It looks like there's a curtain or something on his other side, though, so. Very strange box.
Two: the bed is moving.
He turns the sentence over in his head a few times before it really sinks in, but when it does he comes very close to sitting straight up, and only manages to remember an inch or so before his head would have smacked ceiling. Never a good idea. And it certainly wouldn't have made his morning any better.
When he's calmed down a little, he starts groping around in the sheets in the hopes that his handheld will magically somehow have transported itself to the bed from the coffee table he'd left it on last night. Somewhat unsurprisingly, it doesn't work, but he makes a face anyway.
Ryan? he tries, just in case he's awake and just zoned out, or something.
And then he realizes that if the bed has magically transformed itself, he's probably not in their rooms anymore, which means that Ryan won't be responding anytime soon. It also means that he's not ever going to find his handheld around here, which
fuck
if there was ever proof that they really needed something implanted in their brains just in case any of them were separated from their handhelds, this would certainly be it. (Ryan would probably tell him, after hearing that, that he shouldn't have left his handheld on the fucking coffee table, dumbass, how would he know about any incoming messages if it was beeping in the living room, huh? He wouldn't, that's how. Spencer rolls his eyes, and then realizes Ryan's talking in his head and it's not even
Ryan
, and rolls his eyes again. This is ridiculous.)
He really needs to get out of this bed, though. It's starting to make him uncomfortable. And the motion is starting to fuck with him, too, although standing up might make that worse. He'd be able to hold onto something if he stood up, though, which is definitely a point in its favor. It
is
a curtain on his right side, it turns out, and when he grabs it he can feel it move, and a little sliver of light shines into the box of darkness, so he keeps on pulling. It looks like there's another curtain right across from him, and when he cranes his head a little he can see another under that one, so there's probably one under his as well. That would explain the ceiling, anyway. Of course, since one of his questions has been answered, about twelve spring up in its place. He would probably settle for knowing where he is, though. And why the -- okay, it's not just his bed. Why the bunch of beds are moving. Although it looks like there's a door or something at the end, so maybe he's in a giant moving house.
Yes. That's obviously the answer. He's in a giant moving house , and he's also incredibly thankful that Ryan didn't hear that, because he would
never
hear the end of it.
Standing is not as much of a challenge as he thought it would be after he gives himself a minute or so to get used to it. There's actually a door on either end of the, uh. Bed tunnel. Or whatever it is. But there's noise coming from one of them and silence from the other, so he figures he might as well go to where the noise is. Maybe it'll help explain whatever is going on.
"Hey, you're awake," says Brendon Urie, dressed in plaid pajama pants and what Spencer thinks was a Superman t-shirt at one point in its life and eating a bowl of cereal, and Spencer blinks. "Um. Yeah," he says, noncommittally, and nods a little for effect. "Okay, so, I have an important question for you," Brendon Urie says, and gestures expansively with his spoon. "If Batman decided he was only going to eat one kind of cereal for the rest of his life, like, until he
died
, what cereal do you think he'd pick?"
"Um," Spencer says again. He thinks he's met this guy in person maybe
twice
, talked to him on the handheld network maybe twenty times, and yet here he is talking like he knows Spencer well, like they're friends. Like they belong on this -- whatever it is. Demented RV, he thinks, maybe, as he looks around and notices cabinets and a microwave. And windows.
"Jon said Frosted Flakes, and I guess that's a good pick because who doesn't like Frosted Flakes, right? But Ryan said he thinks Batman would pick Honey Nut Cheerios, and I have nothing against the Bee, but those are just not badass enough for Batman, okay?"
Spencer has to bite down on the inside of his cheek to keep from saying "Ryan?" really loudly.
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