Ryan was not one for surprise parties or surprises at all, and everyone - [i]everyone,[/i] he made sure of it - knew that. Especially when it came time around his birthday or even anniversaries, in which case he'd tiptoe around Brendon just in case. Anyway, this was why rather than sneaking him out somewhere, all of Ryan's twenty-one-plus friends notified him a week in advance that they were a. definitely going to celebrate and b. he had no choice in whether he was going or not. The 'b' point was questionable, because Ryan was so fussy that he always had a choice in everything, but this was one of those occasions where he really didn't want to look like a jerk about it. After all, everyone was being incredibly kind about the matter, and he knew what the 21 years landmark was. He didn't need the pity that might have accompanied him turning down the invite and looking like he was avoiding something. 

He'd realised some time after the fact that Brendon couldn't feasibly go, unless he was cool with hanging around outside waiting for everyone else. He would most likely be refused entrance anywhere that their circle of friends planned on taking a newly 21 year old. Apparently, though, Brendon had no idea or was acting like he could get past that obstacle, because when he alluded to his coming along, Ryan had to very carefully bring him up to speed. It's not like they couldn't have gotten him a fake ID, or maybe just found somewhere that the bar served soft drinks for people in that awkward middle stage between 18 and 21. Ryan was just a little scared that maybe he'd be tempted to fall back into old habits. Even if he wasn't prone to temptation it would certainly be an uncomfortable environment- people joyfully participating in something that messed him up permanently, for one thing, and the reminder of the kinds of places he spent the worst year of his life in. Yeah, definitely not something he wanted to make Brendon participate in.

Anyway, Ryan knew that he could easily compromise with two separate parties anyway. One for his friends that needed that club scene element, another probably more intimate one to spend with Brendon and the people who they were closest to. He wasn't a lover of social events in general but they were always enjoyable if his boyfriend was there, and he knew how much Brendon genuinely liked them, so. A second party was worth it. Not that he shared his plans for that with him, 'cause although Ryan didn't like surprises for himself he loved springing them on a poor unwitting Brendon. For the time being, though, he had to get to New York for this ridiculously overhyped birthday party, so Ryan dealt with the tiny heartache that was saying goodbye to Brendon at the door. It was two days, three days gone at most, but they were a little attached at the hip.

It was like he hadn't even left with how much they texted each other or otherwise communicated among various platforms, but still it felt weird to be this far out by himself. When Ryan landed he was greeted by a group of more childhood friends - Z, Spencer, Dallon, beyond - and still there was that bare spot where Brendon should've been. He realised he was only half-looking forward to the party about an hour after getting off the plane. Ryan spent some time contentedly around the others, walking through NYC and cringing at the prices and shivering in the wake of autumn, but he had to retire early so he could actually give Brendon his full attention (as opposed to checking his phone every three minutes for a new notification). His hotel room, compared to his friends, offered no judgment for his weird attachment issues.

For the party itself he dressed basically how he would for a show, unsure whether a new year meant he should be changing his style or what. He didn't even feel older. Hell, Ryan looked in the mirror and still thought he looked sixteen - he was actually going to bring his passport to the party in addition to his license just in case security doubted him - but maybe it was all 'cause he still needed to participate in the dumb drinking milestone. His previous 'not a sip of alcohol' rule had been broken already, shortly after he'd arrived in Scotland years ago, but only just. Ryan still had a practically clean record. As it turned out, people liked to capture him breaking that clean streak, evidenced in the multitude of phone cameras crowding in front of him once he'd been gifted his first glass of straight Jim Beam. He wasn't sure exactly [i]why[/i] - Spencer was the gifter, and apparently whiskey was the only proper 'first drink' that came to mind - but hey. He ended up having two more and sampling other people's various cocktails, so it must not've been a bad start.

Dallon informed him that Brendon was checking in and Ryan ensured that apart from sending his own meager message over that other people kept him updated on what was happening, too. Ryan wasn't totally sure that him seeing a play-by-play would make him feel better or just left out, but. Either way, he missed the hell out of him. Ryan had started off semi-reluctantly, and it only got worse as the night proceeded, so when he really did feel himself getting bored and sort of sad about who wasn't there, he went straight to Expedia and saw the soonest ticket out - boarding in a little over an hour. No problem. He told Brendon his plans while he was actively leaving the building without informing anyone, then sped back to the hotel to retrieve his belongings and straight to LaGuardia. Brendon seemed a little taken aback. In response, Ryan resisted informing him that he'd do pretty much anything for him, the temptation to send a 'drunk' text overwhelming.

Airplone mode thankfully guaranteed that he did no such thing, and Ryan flew across the goddamn country first falling asleep, waking up not totally sober, then supporting his state of mind by ordering tiny little liquor bottles from the attendants. Even if it wasn't still technically August 30th he counted himself as celebrating his birthday continuously, so, they all counted as miniature gifts to himself. The time passed way too slowly while he was sitting through it, but when the flight landed it was like it'd all gone too fast and he totally hadn't planned how he was going to get home so early in the morning when taxis were hard to come by; thankfully there was a line of them waiting outside the airport. In the nearly-an-hour commute he dizzily fixed his hair in the sunshade mirror, receiving odd looks from the driver who clearly caught on to his lack of coordination and lingering club smell, managing to look slightly in array by the time he was outside his own front door. 

Upon stepping in Ryan could already hear Brendon moving about doing god knows what, and he made his way over as quietly as he could when each step was a struggle, finding him in the bathroom stood before the mirror. Ryan let his bag stand by itself and moved to him, sneaking up to his side where the reflection couldn't catch him and gently wrapping his arms around Brendon's waist. Chest pressed to his shoulder, Ryan planted a kiss on his cheek, grinning as if they hadn't seen each other in forever. [b]"Hey,"[/b] he said, slightly singsong, and glanced at them in the mirror before turning Brendon to him, pulling them closer. [b]"Were you getting ready for me? That's [i]so[/i] fucking cute."[/b] His sensitivity to his first few drinks was clearly still on him, 'cause that didn't sound exactly right in his own voice, but Ryan didn't seem to notice. Instead he tried to catch Brendon in a kiss, uninhibited - only to pull back seconds in to tell him everything he thought was crucial information for the moment. [b]"I missed you [i]so[/i] much, New York [i]sucks,[/i] and. Twenty-one isn't as cool as people make it seem."[/b]