Sure, Brendon was a natural entertainer, and people had just seemed to be entertained by his boundless energy in the past, but apparently the scrutiny of strangers had more of an effect on him than he had foreseen. Brendon wasn’t one to change for other people- not usually- but the pressure of being the front of of a now quite impressively successful band had caught him off guard, causing bouts of anxiety before shows and interviews that he managed to suppress and hide from everybody else, keeping it as much under wraps as possible, and then during said shows and interviews, his adhd meant he could barely sit still anyway- combined with underlying anxiety, it made for a dynamic, unpredictable mix, and sometimes his lively behaviour, though amusing and endearing, was slightly startling to witness. It was all normal for Brendon- constant movement, excessive talking, butting in and enthusiasm inappropriate for the gravity of the situation. 

He’d never seen it as [i]bad[/i] before or something that needed to be controlled; in fact, he never even felt the need to mention that he was diagnosed with it, because in Brendon’s mind, it made no difference. It wasn’t like he actively avoided the subject, it just never came up in conversation, and Brendon just never brought it up anyway. So, effectively, it was an open secret, unguarded, but nobody knew anyway. Now, though, he felt increased pressure to be quote-unquote ‘normal’, a little less intense, a little less domineering during conversations. So, the medication was an option, and one that he took; and for some reason, he felt apprehensive about making that fact public. It wasn’t like he was afraid Ryan would judge him, or something (Ryan took stuff for anxiety, he knew already), it was just... Alien, to him. He wasn’t used to it and it all just set him on edge.

So imagine his horror when he found that the medication he had hoped would mellow him out and allow him to be a better listener and more focused when he spoke to people (in a profession where communication with strangers was part of the job description in the form of rounds of intrusive questioning) simply made him feel like he was trapped inside a body that wasn’t his, slow and tedious, feeling mentally and physically like lead. He wasn’t fully there all day, not with it, just kind of staring at the walls and taking uncomfortably long to formulate answers or even register he was being asked a question. For once, Ryan was taking over the questioning. He distantly felt affection, and appreciation, but was way too out of it to express it in the slightest even though he wanted to. It was usually Brendon dominating interviews, generally, and Ryan was the one who tended to sit and just give his thoughts when it was only absolutely necessary; for Ryan to do readily fill in his role just because he sensed that Brendon really wasn’t right made him feel a little better.

Even though he did kind of feel like a zombie, he managed to garner enough energy and spark to move forwards, with purpose, climbing onto the bed, sitting up and pressing in close to Ryan to meet him in a kiss, if only to prove to himself that he was fine, he was just overreacting. But he quickly lost the will and pulled back, and would have looked apologetic if he hadn’t then felt a little sick. [i]I know.[/i] So it was obvious to Ryan that something was up. He didn’t know whether to be relieved or anxious that everyone else could potentially tell, too. Brendon let Ryan move him, and say as straight as he could. [i]What’s different? Did something happen?[/i]

Brendon looked hesitant. He supposed there was no point dismissing it now. Though, in practice, speaking was harder than in his head- he felt like he was trapped inside of his own body, understanding what was going on but not being able to control it. It was terrifying. Had his brain short circuited? Brendon frowned, finally inhaling and exhaling and gathering his thoughts. [b]”So, I have adhd,”[/b] Brendon said slowly, studying Ryan. [b]”Diagnosed when I was- young,”[/b] When was it? He couldn’t remember, because it hadn’t mattered much to him till recently. Eight seemed too young, twelve maybe... He shook his head. [b]”Hasn’t- been a problem until recently. I first started taking medication today and I- fuck, I feel like shit. I don’t even know what it’s supposed to do.”[/b] Brendon nestled his head in the crook of Ryan’s neck, blinking furiously. [b]”It was because people kept saying I was too hyperactive or whatever.”[/b]