When the mic was held in his direction, extended forwards as the lead singer leaned in to offer it to him, Brendon was at odds for a moment as of what to do. He was sure some of his friends were elsewhere in the audience- Dallon he had convinced to come along, but had lost during the first five minutes when he went to find a drink and never came back- and he hesitated for milliseconds before picking up the chorus where Ryan left off. For a few moments he regretted taking it so seriously, being so dramatic about it, singing it like it was his own song- he should have just shouted ‘I love you, Dallon’ into the mic or something. Now, though, he could see the shock crossing Ryan’s face, and felt his stomach twist. Was this a good surprise, or a bad one? He felt like flinging the mic back in his direction, but then he noticed that awe had crossed the frontman’s features, too, and felt suddenly even more motivated. He was going to make the most of this- he might never get the opportunity to sing for this large an audience ever again.

So maybe he’d kind of religiously listened to this song. Ryan was- what? A year older than him? And the imagery created by the lyrics to [i]Build God[/i] were incredible, complex, dirty motels juxtaposed with [i]raindrops on roses,[/i] everything tied together as a [i]caricature of intimacy.[/i] He was intrigued by what went on in Ryan’s head, what possibly inspired him to write this song, whether he was writing in hypotheticals or from experience with such things and places. Probably the former, but still, Brendon wondered where he conjured up the attention to detail, right down to the intoxicatingly awful [i]scent[/i] of such places that he was describing. Brendon wished he could write like that, so he guess he kind of compensated by oversinging, and projected his admiration through subtle lilts, displaying his own attention to detail and appreciation of the lyrics through his own area of expertise- singing.

And Ryan clearly appreciated it- when Brendon continued into the second verse, the astounded expression on the frontman’s face told him everything, the way his grip on the mic went slack and he let Brendon go wild. When he finally gave it back, he seemed reluctant to take it, and when he did he made sure to first look as delighted as possible with that rendition of the song and Brendon felt his heart racing- from the adrenaline, the applause around him, from Ryan’s clear praise and the general exhilaration he got from performing. Brendon decided that this was what he wanted to do, and what he would do. He’d make it to where Ryan Ready was and higher. He had the talent, the charisma, the intense presence, the mercurial qualities- all he needed was a chance, and a great deal of luck. Brendon sang along to the rest of the song with equal enthusiasm, wondering in the back of his mind whether he’d be able to express his appreciation for the band in person. Ryan looked distracted, too- or maybe it was his imagination.  

When the song ended, Brendon joined in the appreciation by cheering and clapping along with almost childish enthusiasm, a bright, wide grin betraying his exhilaration, his eyes crinkling up at the corners as he brushed his hair back, unsticking it from his forehead. [i]Thank you for believing in us! Before we say goodnight- round of applause for the brave soldier who took on my lyrics, yeah? Thank you.[/i] As cringeworthy as it sounded, Brendon’s heart skipped as some applause erupted again. He leaned against the barrier as if to catch his breath and looked up to try and catch the lead singer’s eye again, but they were already laughing and leaving the stage. Brendon exhaled, hot and bothered and a hundred thoughts racing through his mind, his heart still loud in his chest. When everybody started clearing out, he made a beeline to the venue’s slightly dingy bathroom, steadying himself in front of a mirror and trying to tidy himself up a bit, noticing how his lips were red and his face was flushed. His hair, thankfully, obediently fell back into place. He rolled his shoulders back. He knew his next move.

In theory, seeking out the band by their tour bus was an easy move. They all seemed like pretty chill guys. In practice, it was slightly daunting, even if it was partly because he had the biggest, typical crush on the frontman. He hung back from the rest of the modest crowd of people waiting to greet them, and noted how Ryan also similarly hung back from his bandmates, while Spencer and Jon moved forwards to greet the herd. Brendon hesitated- then realised his nervousness was dumb. He was a naturally confident person. This guy was basically his age. He had been clearly impressed by his singing. Inhaling, he did move forwards, shrugging off his jacket to try and cool off. Expertly dodging the crowd, and the preoccupied Spencer and Jon, he approached, wearing an easy smile, but still feeling his heart skip. [b]”Ryan? Hey. I’m the guy you gave the mic to. ...My parents thought it was a catchy name, but it hasn’t really come in useful til now.”[/b] He was grinning at his own joke, offering his hand, but thinking [i]very[/i] different thoughts. He wondered if it was obvious.