To be fair, Brendon had been thinking about this for a while, and most of his points were, on the surface, pretty valid. The problem only appeared when one remembered that Ryan had been the practical founder of the band, that most problems he cited like ‘lack of bandmate contribution’ had been orchestrated by his own unwillingness to accept other ideas, and his desire to have full control sort of arose from the lack of control he’d had over his life in his late teens and early twenties, surfacing as a way of making up that lost time, and making him feel more grounded. That, and he was just sometimes downright too proud and stubborn for his own good. It was rare now that he admitted to somebody else’s good idea, and when he did, it was begrudging, and minimal as possible. Nobody was perfect, and Brendon’s vices were kind of deeply set in a way that made him appear selfish, and disregarding of other people’s input and feelings. He didn’t realise it himself- in his head, what he was trying to do made complete sense, and he even thought it’d make Ryan happier- he foolishly thought that if he was happy, ryan was bound to follow suit, which was short-sighted, and he thought maybe Ryan could work on his own long overdue music projects. No matter his reason, his handling of the situation definitely didn’t help his cause.

Because Ryan generally caved to what Brendon wanted, within reason, Brendon had kind of thought before going into this that it would go pretty smoothly, and there would be no hard feelings or bad blood, because that would definitely not equate to a healthy relationship. Then again, neither did kicking his husband out of their band. Brendon wasn’t really a team player to begin with, maybe because he’d been isolated for a lot of his childhood as the youngest of his siblings and the stereotypical gay reject to his parents, but that was probably looking too deep. Because of this trait, he found it difficult to compromise with people, or even listen to what they were saying, because he had so much to say himself. This, at his best, made him charming, and at his worst, stubborn and insufferable. Brendon was aware of this, but often couldn’t stop himself butting in at the worst of times and saying something that was probably better left unsaid. For example, now, when he almost said that Ryan didn’t contribute at all.

Brendon never expected Ryan to readily agree, but he was still uncomfortable at Ryan’s flat facial expression, knowing that this meant he was just pissed. He almost reached to take his hand, but Ryan moved away so they were completely separate, and he felt a little rejected. Ironic, really. He bit his lip, looking away awkwardly but determined to argue his point, clearing his throat. Ryan spoke before he could continue. [i]That’s great. That’s really good.[/i] Brendon looked up, and Ryan was staring at the ceiling. He remained silent. [i]You know, I have always wanted to be a touring member for the band I started. [/i] [b]“It’s not always about where you start, Ryan. It’s the fact that you don’t [i]do anything[/i] in the band anymore. Nothing would even change.”[/b] That was way too harsh, but Brendon kind of just grit his teeth, really not wanting this to be an argument but also accepting the inevitability of it all.

[i]I’m sorry.[/i] Brendon raised an eyebrow. [i]You’re not going to, like- try to compromise or anything? Or go solo rather than kicking everyone else out?”[/i] [b]”What’s the difference? I’m the lead singer, I make the band.”[/b] Again. Shortsighted, arrogant even. Brendon was rarely this uptight about things, but this potential argument had him on edge. [i]Have you even thought this through?[/i] He scoffed. [b]”Have for a while, actually. The last album- I wrote literally everything. You guys still played. What difference does it make?”[/b]