A band formed in high school, poorly planned out and short-staffed, really only stood strong the way that it did with a common ground. Ryan and Spencer were both kind of distant from any real social circle, only had each other to reach out to - they wanted to be heard over anything. That encompassed a lot of smaller things, of course, like being understood and not necessarily appreciated if it had to be forced, but any constructive critique would prove they were worth someone's time anyway. Better than nothing. They built up members not by obviously asking if they were the same way, but if anyone showed that they fit in, of course they'd be taken under Panic's proverbial wing. Jon was the first 'official' third member (every other bassist they'd kind of hated but suffered through in order to play anything at all), rational but still humorous, and sort of a control over Spencer and Ryan's often far-fetched ideas for the band. They were all pretty lonely, then, until they were first able to generate real, close-to-home music. Sometimes hard to understand, in all honesty, which was likely what made it easier to perform - there was a far less vulnerable feeling then.

Ryan had his doubts even at the height of their success. In fact he'd been in denial of their flaws whenever Spencer (or even Jon, when the other bailed) brought them to light, stubbornly refusing to change for the sake of a 'brand' - or something along those lines. When they really couldn't find a singer that would redeem them, and no a frontman that they explored complimented their personal styles, and compromises couldn't be made - he started to accept that they'd probably peaked pretty early, then, and it was only a niche following thus far. Ryan even considered re-enrolling in school towards the close of their first tour just in case, requesting transcripts from his high school, looking into scholarship programs and if he'd qualify for any at all. It wasn't all hopeless, per se, because Ryan still thought that making their own individual music would work just as well. He'd grown resigned to the possibility of their label either giving up on their contract or them having to bail themselves out. Then, conveniently, there was Brendon.

He was discovered in probably the weirdest but best way ever - Ryan picked him out of a crowd of ~100 people, gave him the mic, and Brendon was ready to absolutely demolish one of their most popular tracks. Needless to say the fellow audience probably wanted him in the band as much as Ryan instantly did. Blessed with the luck that Brendon hadn't already been picked up by some talent scout, they quickly recruited him, and he easily blended in with the rest. He was obviously on the already-established common grounds, clearly not heard the way that he deserved to be by patrons or friends or whomever could have possibly heard him. The quick cure was making him frontman, and no one, not even their modest cult following, had any objections to the new member once they heard his voice. (Ryan also argued that it was his face - "[i]I mean, look at him.[/i]" People usually agreed with him there, too).

Brendon was better than a voice for their respective instruments - he also turned out to be a recognizable face for them as a whole, was the largest personality of all of them. One would assume he was so new that he'd never know how to respond to the limelight, much less personal questions about the band; of course people usually weren't aware that he was both a huge fan prior to joining, nor did they know that Ryan spent essentially all his time around Brendon. It was easy with the others, since they could just watch the songs develop and unfold the meanings as they wished, but explaining his writing and the reason it sounded a certain way when played, etc., all of that was hard to do at once and without feeling pretty lame. Ryan veered from giving too much away about some tracks, dodging them with something general, and was glad that Brendon only ever delved with questions when it was to better himself. 

Ryan actually grew to prefer Brendon's company over anyone else's. Of course he didn't close himself off to others or anything crazy like that, but he found himself thinking of how Brendon might react to some show he was watching or what he was doing at that given moment or how his whole person lit up when he laughed. Ryan was a little ridiculous about it all, writing vague pieces on his blog and promptly ignoring all comments speculating what it was about (incorrectly, funnily enough). It was an odd feeling, because in the past Spencer was the only one he could spend over five minutes with, and Jon had wiggled his way in to that club over a long period of time. With Brendon, it was easy. It was a good thing he'd gotten used to having them around for hours at a time, then, because their solution to the delay of their second album was to compile all of their brittle ideas into something useful in a cabin free of distractions.

Ryan ran out of space in his own journal a good two days in and ended up using the cabin's complimentary stationery, ending up favoring it over actually getting something new. Besides, it was easy to discern the old from the new this way, and he was trying hard to forget some of his dumb, incomplete original ideas for the record. The new vibe was far softer than the last, in fact a complete 180; he wasn't worried about pleasing anyone's tastes there, and was actually pretty sure the rest of them couldn't care less either so long as they liked it themselves. His inspiration came from this place itself, his newfound view on his friends since they were crammed together even longer than the tour bus, the times spent with Brendon where they'd run off somewhere and leave their bandmates kind of in the dust.

Sometimes he just naturally knew where Brendon would be and gravitated to him without giving it much thought at all. On his first try he found Brendon by the lake, and he suppressed a knowing smile; it was a wonder he'd be able to see this close to shore. He wished he could walk silently, cause no disturbance at all, but alas he ended up interrupting the peaceful scene by wandering down to where Brendon sat. [b]"Hey,"[/b] was the first dry word he could muster, and he realised after a whole day sectioning himself off to try writing words or repetitive tabs or anything productive he hadn't used his voice at all. Brendon didn't seem to mind it, just returning the greeting and setting his own work aside. Ryan's gaze automatically followed the book, wondering when they'd all be introduced to Brendon's genius in its entirety.

[i]You okay? Joining me for the sunset? Just in time.[/i] Ryan nodded to all, feeling his voice return and trying again. As he spoke he absently retrieved a pebble from the ground, turning it over in his hands. [b]"I'm alright. Glad I found you - I've been playing the same chord for an hour trying to get it right."[/b] He laughed a little, matching Brendon when he looked over the lake, but his attention remained there a few moments longer before he turned to meet Brendon's gaze. He wondered what he was thinking, then how lame it would be if he cleaned his glasses for him, then was willing himself [i]not[/i] to since it so contradicted the serene circumstances. So, very lame. [i]You look good.[/i] Ryan suddenly wasn't wondering anything at all, gaze dropping to Brendon's shoulder when he smiled sheepishly. 

His fingers went white around the pebble in his hands, pressing too tightly before loosening up. [b]"You do, too, Brendon,"[/b] he said easily, like it was common sense, then skipped the pebble over the water just so he didn't have to hold eye contact in all his shyness. Funny how he still got that way after so long. [b]"You always do."[/b] Naturally he lightly bumped his shoulder against Brendon's, turning back finally to watch how the sun's gradually less powerful rays illuminated his features. His first instinct was to make some sort of joke, but he couldn't think of anything quite fitting. [b]"Not sick of us already, are you?"[/b] He half-smiled, thinking if Brendon had escaped out here he was certainly just avoiding the symphony of three, all mismatched instruments practicing different sections. Glad for it, though - being in his own company all day, it felt oddly refreshing to find him again.