The advice that Brendon had given, though it has blossomed from only good intentions when he quite easily noticed Ryan’s increasing anxiety both before shows and during, was, in his opinion, coming back to bite him- it was his belief, and quite a selfish one, that he hadn’t thought offering such help to his husband all the way through, and it was not at all beneficial for Brendon. No matter how more lax and chilled out Ryan seemed (he was kind of smug that his advice had worked out after all, but that was besides the point) all Brendon could focus on was how it affected [i]him[/i]- and it did, even if really, Brendon should just care about that and should prioritise his husband’s anxiety and feelings over his own bruised ego. He felt neglected- the time before shows that was usually spent with Ryan had been stolen from him, because of his own dumb advice, and the fact that Ryan seemed more interested and absorbed with his guitar than he was with Brendon himself. How could that be? Brendon had seen himself in the mirror. He wasn’t blind- and neither was Ryan. He came to the conclusion that this ignorance to Brendon’s body language and behaviour was intentional.

Okay, so he got a smile, maybe, but that was pitiful. Brendon was used to a kiss, maybe a few, before going on and at the beginning of the set, but it was the start of the show and Brendon was sure he hadn’t received one in hours because Ryan was busy actually helping himself out for once. He was quite close to throwing a tantrum right there and then, but he just did a one-eighty when he was shunned, determined suddenly to get a rise out of him somehow- positive or negative. So, like a toddler, he acted out, going against everything that stage crew, security, the band, and Ryan had said to have with regards on how to behave, making a mess but simultaneously putting on a good show to make it seem like it was all planned. The fans seemed to love it, and didn’t notice the frustration of the security, the fear-annoyance-anxiety on Ryan’s face, the confusion of the other band members. This, along with his desire to push Ryan as far as he could, just added fuel to the fire. There was no way he was calming down now.

Not even Ryan’s hasty scold slowed him down; instead, it told him that his methods were working. His heart was hammering from the expenditure and he launched back in to being unnecessarily reckless and dramatic, extending those notes again and doing half-practiced, un-mastered somersaults off stage equipment and amps and even starting to climb up some decorations at one point, dropping back down only when he realised it was time for him to sing again. This was all relatively frustrating from Ryan, as he could tell, but for Brendon this wasn’t enough. He was on a destructive roll now- and his next step was to drag in poor Dallon, who had no idea what was going on and looked just as stunned as Ryan when Brendon leaned in to kiss him. The kiss itself was strange and alien and brief and Brendon, for a second, was unsure of himself. [i]That wasn’t right, I shouldn’t have done that,[/i] He told himself for a few moments, considering backtracking- but then he looked over at Ryan, saw his expression and realised he’d succeeded and if he backed down now it’d be embarrassing.

They said their goodbyes and when Brendon turned around from giving his little speech of appreciation to the crowd, Ryan was gone. He bounded after the rest of the crew, artfully dodging Dallon when he sensed his friend was about to yell at him, and ended up on the tour bus pretty quickly, sitting not quite next to but parallel to Ryan, on the other side of the bus. He didn’t feel very welcome, and the band members were a little awkwardly quiet, but he didn’t care. In Brendon’s eyes, it had been a great show- and he still had energy to spare. They got back to the hotel, and Brendon was still wound up, ready to go again. Ryan apparently was, too. [i]I don’t care about the crowd.[/i] [b]”Damn, that isn’t the image we’re going for, babe.”[/b] Brendon grinned, amused, crossing his arms. [i]I care about you apparently having some kind of death wish. [/i]Rolling his eyes, Brendon shrugged off his suit jacket and started unbuttoning his shirt, overheating already.

[b]”It’s called having a little fun, Ryan, look it up.”[/b] He said tersely, crossing the room and shrugging off his shirt, dropping it on the bed and then turning around. [i]I thought we talked about you being so reckless before - you know how much that scares me, Brendon.[/i] [b]”And I ignored you, because you seem determined to ruin my fun. Anyway, it’s not about what you want- I’m performing for the fans, not for you, not that you’d care much if I was.”[/b] The grudge was evident in his tone, then, and he rubbed his own arm absently, levelling Ryan as his husband stepped a little closer, with purpose. He looked pretty pissed, but Brendon couldn’t bring himself to feel sorry. [i]Why were you even doing all that?[/i] [b]”Why not? You wouldn’t even look at me the entire show, I had to entertain myself somehow.”[/b] Brendon dragged his fingers back through his own hair, and cracked his neck both ways, stretching out his arms when he finished. He absently realised he needed a shower but it’d probably have to wait.

[i]And- whatever you’re mad about, I really don’t see why you thought it’d be fine to drag Dallon into it, by the way.[/i] Brendon had to stop himself from visibly smirking. [b]”Whatever. He was even more into it than I was,”[/b] He said airily, looking down at the gap between where the two of them were standing and then back up to Ryan. [b]”Anyway, someone’s gotta kiss me. You wouldn’t.”[/b]