Even if what Ryan had said, he didn’t mean, it was still awful and kind of shocking to Brendon that he would even [i]go[/i] there- what he perceived to be the love that neither of them ever doubted, the steadfastness of his adoration and respect and vice versa. No matter how heated and tense the arguments had become, no matter how hard things got, they always knew that they’d work it out somehow because what they felt was so strong and what they experienced was so real and intense that neither of them ever dared to question it, simply because they saw no reason to. Brendon was in love with him, head over heels, had been for about half of his life, and the notion that Ryan would even [i]question[/i] that was jarring. And infuriating. It was this that made him the most angry, thinking it not only ridiculous, but a step way too far over the line. Maybe Brendon had passed it already with the comment about pathetic songwriting, but Ryan merely implying that he doubted Brendon’s love was too much for him to just let go. Brendon wasn’t known for holding grudges, but he was honestly angry for the first time in quite a while.

Not only angry, but hurt, because he honestly didn’t know at first if this was anger speaking or actual honesty brought forth by the intensity of the situation. His common sense told him the former, but the even slight possibility it was the latter crushed him. He wondered how Ryan could ever doubt that, when he’d done so much to show and tell him otherwise- Brendon liked to think he was affectionate enough, even if it was sometimes more physically orientated. It had always been Ryan who was better with words, which was kind of ironic now, because not only was Brendon suggesting, no, coercing Ryan into leaving the band’s creative force completely, but he had said that his lyrics were ‘pathetic’. He wanted to take this back as soon as it left his mouth, but now he didn’t, too stirred up by Ryan’s comment, so he just let them remain in the air, hoping in his moments of genuine hurt that Ryan took them to heart.

[i]Alright, low blow.[/i] Brendon rolled his eyes skyward, unable to even look at him, trying to keep himself calm, but his knuckles were white and he was probably disproportionally angry for the situation. He then inhaled, reprimanded Ryan, still with a tone of genuine disbelief that his husband had, again, even said that. [i]Okay.[/i] A pause. Brendon’s eyes widened, and then he reached up and dragged his hands over his eyes and down his face, shaking his head slowly. [b]”Just, [i]okay?[/i] That’s where you’re meant to apologise. How fucking dare you-"[/b] He swallowed thickly. [b]”You don’t actually think I don’t love you, right? Because it’s not fucking funny.”[/b] Another long pause, and Brendon let his arms drop to his sides, exhaling. 

[i]You can’t say the songs about you getting fucked up are happy for a reason and expect me to forget it, either.[/i] Brendon went quiet. He had no comeback for that, and suddenly felt unwanted guilt grip him at the shoulders and freeze him into immobility. He didn’t expect Ryan to forget it, nor did he expect him to understand- if he tried to explain how he missed it, why he missed it, and how much, Ryan would never understand. There was no point. [i]Is that part of it? Part of why you want to split up, I mean. So you can write that, without...[/i] Hesitant, tense, he said nothing for a second, then opened his mouth to speak too late. Ryan was continuing. [i]...Without us caring, I guess.[/i] he laughed nervously. [b]”It really isn’t that big a deal,”[/b] He murmured, artfully changing the subject. [b]”You never write anything anymore, so there’s nothing for me [i]to[/i] reject.”[/b]

[i]Whether I'm in the creation process with you or not, I'm gonna care, you know. When the lyrics about clubbing and drinking still sound wistful... I mean... nothing's going to change.[/i] For a long time, Brendon didn’t respond, just considered Ryan’s words in his head. He knew that his husband would always worry, nothing he could say would ever change that. So he just decided to be honest, and held his breath for a second before just shrugging his shoulders almost defeatedly. [b]”I miss it,”[/b] He admitted. He let Ryan process it. [b]”That’s what people don’t understand. Sure, what came with it was awful, but the drinking? The actual- parties? Nights out, whatever? It was fucking fun, okay? What I can remember, was- crazy. And I do miss it. I struggle with that shit every day, so I write about it because it’s what most of my life has been dominated by.”[/b]