Though he had been forewarned about the press and the media prior to even joining the band, Brendon hadn’t been prepared for this- three straight days of just [i]interviews[/i], talking to boring ass people asking questions that were 80% boring and obvious, 10% irrelevant or ridiculous, 10% kind of creepy and personal. For example, the first time Brendon had been witness to an awkward, kind of intense woman ask Ryan about his relationship with his father and how that influenced his songs. The answer to this question was obvious to anybody who actually listened to the lyrics of the song, which apparently this woman had not. Immediately, Brendon had sort of bristled, shifting a little closer to Ryan and using his forceful personality or cracking a passive aggressive joke to quickly change the subject. Ryan never voiced his appreciation aloud, but he didn’t have to. Brendon still didn’t know the full ins and outs of it all, because he hadn’t asked. The last thing he wanted to do to was to step over a line and make him uncomfortable- even if at this point hardly anything did, and they were sleeping in the same bed whenever it were possible, for God’s sake.

For all the shortcomings, interviewing had its advantages- some of the people, though rare,  were cool, asking relevant and interesting questions and having personalities that weren’t completely 2-dimensional. Plus, Brendon was most at ease in the spotlight, and wasn’t ashamed to admit that he basked in the attention that being a new member and the lead singer brought. He was a crowd pleaser, doing most things asked of him and answering all questions with good humour, though he was always on alert, fully aware of Ryan looking at him most of the time and thinking to himself that Ryan might as well just be all over him, he was making it so obvious. He didn’t voice this, though, because he was aware that he was now Ryan’s anchor, his go to when he got anxious and needed to ground himself on something. Apparently Brendon was the answer to his problem of nerves and self-consciousness, a role Brendon accepted but didn’t really fully understand.

Today, though, was different. As loveable as everybody thought Brendon was, he sometimes received comments from interviewers and fans alike about how hyperactive he was, how he couldn’t sit still, how he ‘dominated the conversation’ and ‘wouldn’t let anybody else get a word in’. Now, Brendon had been diagnosed with adhd when he had been a kid, and had never once taken advised medication for it apart from once, when his mother got a call from school asking how much sugar she gave him. It had gone awfully, a younger Brendon had been closed off and quiet and unsettlingly out of it. So his mom said he didn’t have to take it and Brendon sort of learned to cope in other ways. He’d never thought twice about taking it again until now- when it was noticeable, easy to criticise, and his anxiety was also starting to rear its head, he made the decision to access the same ones he’d taken when he was younger, as well as some he hadn’t tried before for his anxiety, opting to ignore the adverse affects when he had been just a kid. The comments sort of got to him and he was worried about ‘ruining an image’.

They had certainly calmed him down, quietened him, but Brendon looked permanently uncomfortable all day, barely saying a word and when he did, he kind of stumbled over them, spoke slowly or just passed the question quickly onto one of his bandmates. He didn’t make much eye contact, and mostly stayed sat in the same enclosed position, staring at the ground or his feet or the wall. He felt sick and wrong and wondered whether it was supposed to feel like this, and he was frustrated because they were supposed to be the answer to his problems. Even if he had only noticed the ‘problems’ when other people, people who didn’t know him, pointed them out. By the end of the day, he was drained despite doing nothing, and weirdly tired. He was just glad to be back at a hotel with Ryan, and when they finally got into their room, he hung back for Ryan to go in then shut the door behind him. 

[i]Most embarrassing day of my life.[/i] Brendon watched Ryan absently, setting his jaw for a moment then wandering towards the bed. [i]And we have another tomorrow. I’m gonna say I’m sick.[/i] He nodded in vague agreement, because he felt slightly sick as well. Brendon suddenly felt the urge to do something, anything, to feel a little more like himself, and moved onto the bed beside Ryan, climbing over him suddenly and resting a knee between his legs, leaning down to kiss him with whatever enthusiasm he could muster. He curled his fingers into Ryan’s hair, and for a moment, felt a little better. But his mind was somewhere else and he suddenly pulled back, shaking his head and moving aside. [b]”Sorry. I feel like- shit.”[/b]