It wasn't easy to hear the subject matter of Brendon's work, even if it did show his immense talent for writing and composition. Ryan was critical of everything no matter who produced what work, so of course he'd had much practice with scrutinizing Brendon's work in the past - not intentionally as direct as he happened to be, truthfully, but he was just awful at any kind of candid communication - and these days he couldn't give anything. Brendon knew how to lay out his thoughts now, and do so in a manner that wasn't really uber-poetic and pretentious (which was more Ryan's approach) but in a new way, where you could tell the distinctions between his songs and their older releases, where you could hear his clear-cut personality just through the diction alone. The one thing Ryan ever really wanted to criticize was what Brendon was singing about, but of course it wasn't plausible that Brendon would leave out the truth, the core of his work. Plus he would have no alternatives to offer up; what else would Brendon write about? He had plenty of hardship if that was what he wanted to sing about, but one of his biggest issues if not [i]the[/i] shouldn't be ignored just 'cause Ryan wasn't comfortable hearing it.

Admittedly, that in itself was the most unfair part of it all. Worse than Brendon barring most outside contribution, worse than Brendon wanting change... Ryan had never grown to just accept that he could openly talk about what he went through. He semi-understood, because - the fact played like a broken record - he grew up with the struggles of alcoholism. He could hear about it occasionally when it was acceptable for him to vehemently try to comfort Brendon on the subject right after/during. He could even respond and have a full conversation, if no one else was around and if Brendon sort of walked on eggshells with the details of it all (not just because he hated to hear about Brendon's pain that he couldn't fix, but also because it brought a new level of insight as to what his father had been going through, what he'd been blind to). So, when they were on stage and he had to endure three minute songs about all of it back to back, sometimes cheery-sounding like Brendon was willing to dive back in to all the hurt he was left with, it was just hard to deal. Ryan wasn't built to put up with even momentary discomfort, evidently. None of it was about him, though; he just never considered his selfishness until after he'd made a mountain out of a molehill every. Single. Night.

He was sort of a hypocrite for it, too. Ryan's own music often dwelled too much on him and Brendon, sometimes he focused on his father but in a way that turned tragedy into something marketable. Other times he made up feelings and stories he couldn't personally relate to, or wrote about beautiful things that he couldn't fully understand himself, or made metaphors so convoluted that no one would fully grasp other than himself; all things considered, he didn't fit with Brendon creatively anymore. The resolve made sense. Brendon was writing stuff that was actually [i]good[/i], for one thing, stayed genuine even if it hurt, and Ryan kept losing sight of that. It's like if they were to actually split up, Brendon would be losing dead weight anyway, but of course Ryan was beside himself. Why play anything if they weren't playing together? Why try anything new when they could do what they'd always done? The answer to that was simple; they'd both changed so much over time that they weren't doing the same thing anymore anyway. They'd basically split the band without making a formal statement about it. This was just addressing the elephant in the room.

[i]Sorry, which album has performed the best? The one you wrote, ten years ago, or the one I wrote last year?[/i] Fuck. He had a point. Kind of. Brendon was sort of insulting himself by comparing his own work to basically a high schooler, very much degrading his own skill level, but Ryan got the point nevertheless. He was indeed far more successful (though Ryan knew said "high schooler"'s achievements were fair enough, too, so this wasn't a huge blow to his pride). Ryan was off towards the door anyway, no argument on his tongue for that point in particular just because he really couldn't compete with the facts, trying desperately not to look too struck by defeat. It felt weird, wrong that they were saying these kinds of things to each other with the intent to win something or whatever - he wasn't used to it. They argued plenty, bickered more, but it was all small stuff usually. Even if it wasn't, they were over the conflict quickly, and nothing truly harmful was ever exchanged with full knowledge of what they were saying. This was a little different. Ryan, personally, was kind of out for blood because he sensed danger in the prospect of being booted from his own band.

Just as he got to the doorway, though, Brendon upgraded to a new level of angry, and Ryan didn't quite come to a full stop but he tossed a flippant look over his shoulder. [i]You can’t say that as someone who’s written about the same fucking person for over ten years.[/i] That’s [i]pathetic.[/i] That, Ryan stopped at. His expression softened marginally and his anger shifted to something slightly more unnerved, not so sure how to feel about what Brendon was saying, but he was definitely unsettled. [i]And, ‘personal tragedy’? You know there’s a reason those songs are happy, right?[/i] Ryan's fingertips were hanging lightly on to the doorframe, almost bracing himself but timidly. Yeah, he did know, unfortunately, or at least he kind of did. More accurately, he'd entertained the possibility that Brendon wanted his old lifestyle back, or just a part of him did that was powerful enough to sway the rest. Ryan had turned so only his profile was facing Brendon at this point and he couldn't actually bear to look all the way round again, for fear of seeing what his features read to accompany his final question, but he just sort of shook his head dismissively. Decidedly, they weren't going to discuss 'those songs' any further.

[b]"I didn't realize you had such a problem with me writing about you,"[/b] he said slowly, voice quieter but still on edge. [b]"I mean. I guess it is kind of pathetic. Being in love with someone, composing nearly whole albums about them... I figured if the feeling was mutual it wasn't too pathetic, but maybe that was stupid thinking."[/b] Ryan wasn't quite [i]that[/i] dramatic, though, and he wasn't going to disregard a lifetime's worth of commitment to one another just to get hurt by Brendon saying one dumb thing. He knew Brendon loved him, too. This all just felt... cold. Not like them. And while the less aggressive part of him wanted to ask what was going on with them, the other just wanted to lay the blame somewhere. The obvious choice was Brendon. [b]"What the hell is wrong with you?"[/b] Very broad question, but he threw an arm out swiftly to indicate he meant more 'right now' than in general.