(RyanRoss) Please Don't Get Me Wrong (OneShot)

She doesn't speak.

It was a little werid for the bands at first. For some it still is.

It's hard to hold up a conversation when the person on the other end just nods and smiles.

Some people became vicious and claimed she was just trying to grab for attention or be an orginal scene girl.

Some people became sympathetic and claimed it was her way of dealing with something horrific in her life.

I don't believe any of that. I think it's just her. Plain and simple. Anyways, she doesn't need to be mute to be original. I can't count many people who have the nerve to wear yellow skinny jeans. Mackenzie Gallows-check. Hayley Williams-check. Brendon Urie-half check. I don't think it's anything horrific either, she doesn't seem depressed. Besides, the first time Pete introduced her the first sentance that slipped out was 'This is Mack. Be careful with what you ask.' You can take it both ways, I refuse to think anyone could hurt her. And besides, if something horrible did happen to her, the late night talks in hushed whispers behind her back are completly unjustified. And if it's just for attention, it's okay that I join in.

Honestly I don't know why she's on this tour. I mean, I know she does Fall Out's tech and Paramore's merch. But she doesn't seem to want to be here. I always found myself thinking of her voice, what it could possibly sound like, how Mack's words would form on her small pale lips. But I couldn't, it was almost impossible. Today I decided to ignore my feelings and thoughts and be casual, I was good at acting.

She seems happier than usual today, but a frown was still etched on her lips.

With a smile and a wave she enters the bus and sits down in between Spencer and Jon.

"Good morning, Mack." Spencer mumbles, staring into his computer screen. She smiles and waves, even though she knows he's lost interest in any one way conversation they could have had.

"Hey Mack, thanks for doing our merch last night. I don't know where Lee got off to," Jon says with a smile. Him and Zac were always very touchy about her silence. It made them uncomfertable. She brushes her hand on Jon's shoulder, her way of saying 'You're welcome,' or 'No problem.'

I remember last night, I watched her the whole show. Mack sat patiently behind the cheap plastic table, surrounded by merch for hours. I laughed at the sign on the desk that Pete made her. 'Doesn't speak, Pete the Ninja stole her voice box.' The fans thought it was some kind of inside joke and paid no attention to her silence. Either it was some sort of inside joke or it was Pete's brotherly side making sure no one gave her any trouble. And no one did.

"Mack, can I talk to you for a second?" Brendon walks in, playing with the hem of his black sweater. She nods and stands from her spot, following him to the back. I strain to listen.

"Okay I don't mean to sound like a jerk, but I know a lot of people wonder. Are you, um, are you mute?" he asks blunty and I almost laugh. To my surprise she smiles and shakes her head, patting Brendon's shoulder.

"Oh okay," be exhales sharply, exiting the room behind her. Mack resides back to her seat, reading something with Spence on his computer.

"Okay people, who wants to see me beat Zac's ass at Guitar Hero?" Josh asks with a smile. The whole bus cheers and whistles excitedly. He turns to her and smirks,

"What about you, Mack?" I think she knows Josh is mocking her, but seems unphased. She gives him a smile and stands up, stepping out into the cold morning air.

"Josh," Hayley hisses from an arm chair.

"Oh come on, it's not like you don't do it too." he hisses back. Hayley shrinks back in her spot in shame, retreating behide her cup of Green Tea. Pete and Patrick stand to go get her with a frown.

"Wait guys!" I yell before they step out of the bus.

"No! Don't fuck with something you don't understand," Pete grumbled, walking out. I follow them and leave the laughing room, clenching my fists in frustration. Patrick and Pete enter their own bus, thankfully leaving the door open for me to enter as well.

"Mack?" Patrick asks into the room. A small pale hand is raised from the couch. I set my eyes on her, green glasses sitting on the bridge of her nose as she reads Jane Austen. For a moment the only sound in the room is the leafing of pages. Patricks comes and sits on her legs with a laugh, boucing up and down. Mack gives him an angry look, trying to contain her smile,

"Oh shut up, I'm not that fat," Mack continues to tug at her legs.

"Are you okay?" Pete asks slowly and cautiously. She smiles at him, shaking her hand dismissivly. Patrick laughs and pats her on the head.

"Can I hang with you guys today?" I ask them. Pete shoots her an uncertain look but she smiles, tapping the spot next to her, having freed herself from under Patrick's weight. Soon enough the boys leave the bus, whinning perfusly about their hunger.

"I'm sorry about them, they're jerks," she shrugs nonchalently, playing witht he pages of her book. "How do you deal? I would cry if it was me," I admit unhappily. Mack pulls out a notebook from her back pocket, reserved for conversations with Pete that hold more words then a nod or pat on the shoulder can translate. She pulls at the cap of her pen she writes and pushes the book to me,

How would you feel if I said the things behind your back that you say about me?

I looked down at the grey generic carpet beneath our feet. She knew.

But I'm used to it by now :D

I laughed at her small smily face and felt forgiven. She patted my shoulder, smiling at me.

You're eyes are really beautiful you know

I blushed at her bluntness and envied her courage.

"I can't see yours," I muse, tilting my head in frustration. I mentally tried to match an eye color to her skin tone. She smiles and pushes her bangs up, reavealing brilliant green eyes, a ring of black encircling them.

"Yours are too," I say as she blushes and I smile at the grin twitching at her lips. Mack's attention returns to her notebook as she begins drawing circles on the page.

"So can I ask you why you don't talk?" Mack clears her throat and for a moment I feel an uplifting, euphoric feeling swell in my stomach thinking that she would talk. Just this once. Instead she fiddles with her pen in her slender fingers before inking the paper with her words.

I try to reserve my conversation for wothy times and people

"Oh." and suddenly that feeling is washed away with a worthless one. She seems to read my emotions like her book on the coffee table and scribbles something down, confidently and clearly in her curvy print

Don't worry, I haven't talked to Pete in a year and a half. She smiles at me. I was almost afraid to ask,

"What happened a year and a half ago?" I swallow the nervousness with a gulp and wait. Mack writes slowly and more nervously now, pausing at each word.

My sister was murdured.

She stands and throws away her notebook, treating it like a toxic disease and caps her pen

"How?" I gasp out. I watch her take her pen off the desk and grasp my arm in her cold hands, writing her words slowly.

Dad was drunk

I read slowly, almost waiting for the words to form some sort of secret message, anything but this. I feel empathetic, I almost want to say that I understand, but I don't have the guts.

"I'm so sorry," she nods, looking away from me. I realized she probably didn't like sympathy. I pull my arms timidly around her waist and pull her into a soft hug, sneaking in a small inhale of the fruity armona of her brown hair.

"She wanted to be a singer, she was in a band." she said to me, playing with a loose thread on my shirt. I hoped she couldn't feel my heat pounding beneath the fabric. But it all made sense now, why she didn't talk, why she didn't want sympathy, how she met Pete. And her words sounded just like I thought they would, full and spoken like the intelligent person she was. I smiled and realized that after all those years, she had spoken...to me.

That sounded like a bad soap opera line.

"I haven't heard my own voice in so long," she whispers with a smile "it reminds me of her." Tears fill her glossy green eyes but she laughs it off, blinking and wiping them away.

"I used to talk a lot," she smiles at me, the tears on her fingers smudge the words on my arm.

"Well then, let's get back to the old days" she nods and smiles.

And we did. We talked all night about everything. Her sister, her ambitions, how she met Pete and why she even bothered going on this tour. 'I felt like something might happen. That maybe if I got away from our apartment I might heal.'

Word got around about Mack's voice faster then wild fire. Pete was happiest of all. I could understand why, he was the last one to hear her speak.

The tour finished off in Vegas, by that time Mack and I had built an incredible friendship. Like the coward I was and still am, I never explained to her how I felt. I was always scared that she would think I only felt this way when she talked. That wasn't true, I didn't want her to think that.

"I'll come and visit you all soon, I promise," she smiled at me, tapping my hip bones happily.

"Can I call you?" I ask her quickly, blushing scarlet. I ignored the kissy faces Brendon and Spencer were making behind her.

"I don't have a phone, Ryan" she says seriously. Mack takes out a small piece of paper and hands it to me.

SheScreamsInSilence@hotmail.com

And for once, I was content with the quiet that filled the air between us. But it wasn't there for long.
never will i have to answer to anyone
five bucks to whoever knows what i mean by that very last sentance
thanks for reading darlings
i really hope that you understand the metaphors in the title and story. i want to hear your take on this one shot because it's very close to my heart

Tee hee
he makes me pants happy.
Go read Lynderr's stuff. NOW.