If, eight months ago, somebody had told Brendon that he was to become the new frontman of an explosively successful, young and unique band that he himself had fallen instantly in love with when he first heard their debut record, he would have laughed in their faces but maybe wistfully imagined what that kind of life would be like. Never mind he would get to hang around with the people he kind of musically looked up to- guys his age, being as successful as they were almost effortlessly- he would also be able to do what he loved; sing. Not just to a weak crowd of lunchgoers who were only half listening. Not just people too drunk to actually register his talent. He wanted to sing for people who wanted to listen. Brendon had aspirations to improve his writing, too, and had been doing so whenever he could, even adopting the tactic of just carrying a notebook around and writing in it whenever any tiniest spark of inspiration hit him, whether that was between waiting tables for Joey, or out drinking with his friends at the weekends, or just sitting at home, absently watching cars pass by. He never showed anyone, though- Brendon didn’t think anybody would particularly care, apart from Joey, but he was kind of reluctant anyway.

Anyway, a month down the line, Brendon had signed what he needed to sign and was now not only a member of the band, but the frontman and lead singer. Ryan still retained the roll of lead lyricist, because he was still obviously the most adept where that was concerned, and Brendon initially had no problem with this. If they all sticked to their talents, it would work. Luckily, because of their similar ages and interest, all the members clicked straight away; it was like Brendon had always been there, and he quickly became a central force, a natural leader and a great friend to all three of his bandmates. Spencer, he noted, was probably the most approachable, and Ryan’s best friend since childhood- the two had started the band together. Jon had joined later, and didn’t quite fit into the emo-cabaret aesthetic they had going on in the first record, instead wearing sandals and sweatshirts [i]all the time[/i], but he still fit. Ryan was probably the most reserved, even though his stage persona was surprisingly confident when it needed to be; Brendon noticed that for a man of all his musical and lyrical talent, he wasn’t exactly self assured about his own prowess- but god, was he stubborn. 

Brendon grew to love them all very quickly, through re-recording and practising songs from [i]Fever[/i], and taking part in compulsory interviews where most of the questions were directed at him, as the new frontman and the most obviously comfortable in the spotlight, friendly and adaptable of them all. It seemed a welcome break for Ryan, who was tired of talking so much. Brendon understood the band to an extent that he pretty much covered everything, even one day touching on the reason Ryan wanted to be replaced- he felt he hadn’t a voice confident enough for his confident sounding lyrics. Because Brendon was adamant about being fully intergrated, he tended to ask a lot of questions about the subject matter- particularly the more personal stuff, like [i]Camisado[/i] and [i]Nails for Breakfast.[/i] Initally, Ryan was very closed off. He still didn’t really know- just what he could speculate, and that it was to do with a family member close to him. He tried not to push too hard.

Seven down the line, Brendon and Ryan had grown even closer. Somewhere between stupid inside jokes and profound conversations about music and literature, they grew to understand eachother more and more. Seven months ago, Brendon would have never imagined this. For a while, he thought he’d grown out of his crush, but had recently accepted it would probably stick around for a long time. It was driving him crazy. Anyway, by this time, they were getting not-so-subtle hints from the label to hurry the hell up and write a new record, so the four of them kind of spontaneously agreed to Jon’s suggestion- they all go stay in a cabin in the mountains somewhere, draw artistic inspiration from nature or something. Ryan loved the idea, Brendon just loved the prospect of spending so much time with them, Spencer didn’t really have a choice. Not even a week later they were in a cabin by a lake, as secluded and remote as they came. 

It was beautiful. They had an amazing view, and though the cabin was small, it was homely, and the great spaces and nature around them meant that if any arguments from being kind of cramped broke out, one party could quickly just leave to go stand by the lake or wander the outskirts of the woods to cool off. It was usually Brendon doing this. That particular evening, it was misty, and the view was kind of obscured. Mountains rose up dramatically, the lake was grey and glassy, and a light drizzle of rain caused tiny ripples on the surface. The sky was grey, but the horizon was smudged purple as the sun began to fall, not quite setting. He was writing, sitting on a worn log down by the pebbled lakeshore, writing some lyrics that had been stirred around in his head all day. Brendon looked up- his glasses were adorned with tiny droplets- and ran a hand absently through his slightly tousled hair, his expression neutral, his eyes dark and his eyelashes low. He wondered what this memory would mean to him in the future, and exhaled. Things had changed.

Jolted out of his kind of dramatic self-reflection, he heard footsteps behind him, crunching onto the pebbles. He glanced over his shoulder- it was Ryan. He greeted him with a tiny smile, silently inviting him to sit beside him on the log. Ryan did. [b]“Hey, Ry,”[/b] He said, softly, biting down gently on his lip and closing the notebook, laying it down on the pebbles. [b]”You okay? Joining me for the sunset? Just in time.”[/b] Brendon looked back over at the lake briefly- then decided there were better views, and turned back to look at his bandmate. There was a long pause, but it wasn’t uncomfortable. [b]“You look good.”[/b]