So maybe Brendon was a little upset when Ryan actually agreed to go to the 21st birthday party his friends were throwing him, but he didn’t voice that. At first he didn’t go straight to disappointment, and rather saw it as an opportunity- open bar, jackpot- but when Brendon mentioned in passing, ‘oh, I’ll probably wear this to your 21st’, Ryan kind of turned to him, looking vaguely concerned, and gently let him down. His boyfriend told him he was not of age yet, so he wouldn’t be let in anyway; Brendon kind of scoffed at that, he’d find a way- and besides, he knew Ryan was really just telling him that even if he was 21, he didn’t really want Brendon around that kind of thing. Brendon was currently in recovery, and was doing quite well- the thoughts that jumped to the forefront of his mind were just wishful, impulsive thinking, and Brendon pushed them firmly to the back of his mind. Honestly, he just wanted to be around people, to be social, to have fun at parties, to be with his boyfriend- since drinking alcohol was often a social thing, though, it was difficult for him to do just that. Ryan was right, obviously. Didn’t mean Brendon had to like it.

He supposed he couldn’t really be that bothered- Ryan was usually selfless, always thinking about Brendon before himself, and it was rare for Ryan to even leave Brendon alone for a few hours- they were ridiculous and almost codependent to the point of almost unhealthy- let alone go to a party in a different state. So Brendon didn’t kick up a fuss like he sometimes did, he just kind of forced a smile until it became a real one- he was happy Ryan was actually attending something like this. Ryan flew out the day before the party, and Brendon had tried not to hang onto him at the door. He kind of just sat around, then- eating pizza, playing video games, messing around aimlessly with the guitar- he managed to fill the time enough so he wasn’t bored out of his mind, but he needed more stimulation- from other people. And all of his friends were at Ryan’s party. He was, unfortunately, one of, if not the youngest of all of them. And Joey was back in England, having not yet got him and Wade organised enough to move to the states.

He survived on his own for the first day, then night, where he felt a little lonely, used to being cuddled for five seconds before he got too hot and pushed Ryan gently but firmly away- but he had called Ryan, leaning back against the headboard, and talked to him until Ryan said his phone was dying, when he finally put the phone down on the dresser and went to bed. The next day was the day of the party, and Brendon lay on his back for most of the day, snapchatting Ryan and sending endless messages to the group chat, demanding people kept him informed. Luckily, Dallon was organised, so managed to talk Brendon through it until he was satisfied. Then, he spent the day flicking through channels after going out to do some light grocery shopping and even get some lunch. It was nice to do his own thing for once, sure, but he felt a loss where Ryan’s hand should have been interlinked with his own.

Brendon told himself to get over it, it wasn’t like Ryan was dead, he’d be home sometime tomorrow, early afternoon, possibly later- but it had been too long for Brendon to enjoy being on his own anymore, he thrived on attention and companionship. So he texted Ryan up until the start of the party, when he started seeing pictures of snapchat, pictures of Ryan looking ridiculously cute and holding whiskey. Brendon smiled fondly, even at the possibility Ryan was a little tipsy. He was glad his boyfriend was enjoying himself. He managed to last a whole hour before messaging him again, asking him how it was going. He got an almost immediate response of It’s okay, I wish you were here, and Brendon didn’t reply, just turned the TV back on for another hour, hour and a half until he got another text. I’m bored, I’m buying a plane ticket. Okay, what? What do you mean? A quick reply of, I’m coming home. Brendon was grinning, but also concerned. But, your party. He got no further explanation but a rough estimate of when he’d be home, and airport updates every now and then. God, Brendon loved him.

He did intend on cleaning up a little before Ryan got home (he was scruffy, his hair was unruly, he needed to shave, and he definitely hadn’t been wearing the same clothes for a few days), but lost track of time and suddenly Ryan was on his way, and he’d be home in an hour maximum. Brendon turned off the TV and got into the shower, dried himself off and wrapped a towel around his waist, stood in front of the mirror over the sink to shave whilst simultaneously texting Ryan. Okay Baby, I love you, see you soon. It was quite difficult to do both at the same time, but he managed, and he was clean shaven. He then turned away to go and find some clean clothes, and only found the only pair of jeans he hadn’t ripped- then he had a two minute debate with himself over whether to just wear his cropped sweater or one of ryan’s shirts that somehow fit him. He went with the sweater, pulling it over his head after he’d put on the jeans, and then went back to the bathroom to style his hair. When he was done, he stepped back. There. He was pretty again.

Ryan was not one for surprise parties or surprises at all, and everyone - everyone, 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 why - 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. "Hey," he said, slightly singsong, and glanced at them in the mirror before turning Brendon to him, pulling them closer. "Were you getting ready for me? That's so fucking cute." 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. "I missed you so much, New York sucks, and. Twenty-one isn't as cool as people make it seem."

Brendon did kind of know there was no way he could attend this party, for both technical and personal reasons, because it was the 21 years landmark, it would be pretty much centred around drinking- and a, he wouldn’t even be able to get in to any potential venues at his age, and b, even if he did manage to get in, he was aware people would be uncomfortable drinking around him, and Ryan would be too stressed about the possible triggers and temptations so easily accessible to Brendon to enjoy himself- he didn’t want that, he wanted Ryan to actually enjoy himself for once without worrying about Brendon. Even so, it wasn’t like he wanted to be left at home- so he just pushed it to the back of his mind, pretending like he was going even though he knew Ryan would be thinking nervously whenever he mentioned it ‘how do I tell him he isn’t going’. He would have been offended at the frankness; the conversation was literally a Brendon, you’re not going, followed by Brendon looking kind of taken aback, followed by a softer but still persistent voice of You can’t go, because... And then Brendon tuned out, because he already knew the reasons. He just stared at Ryan as he spoke, smiling despite himself because he was pretty, but then making himself sad because he couldn’t be with Ryan at this party.

He got over it eventually, or he thought he did until they were both standing in the doorway, Brendon’s arms wrapped around Ryan’s waist, chasing kisses when Ryan tried to pull away and even trying his luck at his neck just to extend the time they had together, until Ryan told him with as much seriousness as he could muster that he had to leave or he’d miss his flight. Brendon then kind of peeled himself off his boyfriend and kissed him once, chastely, again, lingering only a little before pulling back and leaning against the doorframe as Ryan finally actually left. The next few days we’re going to suck, he thought absently, and stood there for a few seconds before closing it behind him as he walked back into their apartment. Immediately after he collapsed down onto the couch and turned on the TV, texting Ryan almost right away just to say ‘I love you’. They were kind of ridiculous and Brendon missed him already.

It was sad, really, because Brendon was the metaphorical life of the party (even though he wasn’t sure how he’d be, sober, around drunk people, and he was kind of scared to find out). He kept in frequent contact with Ryan, who happily obliged to respond to his near-ridiculous levels of texting, and snapchat selfies, and tagged Instagram memes. When Ryan was understandably too busy, he tried not to be too much like a puppy left at home, and messaged the group chat instead. Holden responded just with a ‘wish you were here’, mitch with a shrug emoji, Gabe read it and didn’t respond, and dallon was the only one who actually satisfied him with a rundown of what was happening, until they all started ignoring him (even Ryan), and Brendon figured the party had started and he just sighed to himself before unpausing the game he’d left suspended for the last hour and finally tried to carry on. Luckily, Ryan started messaging him again pretty soon, so he was entertained again. Brendon really wasn’t meant to be on his own.

He knew Ryan missed him, but he really didn’t expect that within five minutes, he had booked a flight back to Seattle and had left his own birthday party unannounced. Brendon wondered if Ryan was drunk- obviously he’d had alcohol, Brendon had seen it from several people’s snapchat stories, and it was a goddamn 21st birthday party, but still- drunk? It was odd to associate Ryan, who actually swore off alcohol once upon a time, with drunkenness, drunk texts and the like. Brendon sent back several confused texts, but got no response- presumably because Ryan was on a plane, on the way back to Seattle. He made a mental note to actually get ready, and look presentable, because he looked like a mess who hadn’t showered yet today, and his boyfriend hadn’t seen him in a couple of days, and he wanted to look cute. Not that he didn’t anyway, but, like, extra pretty.

He almost forgot, full disclosure; so when he got a text from Ryan, saying he’d landed and he’d be home in about an hour, he shot to his feet and scrambled to shower, get dressed and do his hair, so he’d look presentable, as if the man who was coming home hadn’t known him most of his life and was literally in love with him. His timing was impeccable, apparently, because as soon as he had sorted out his hair, and was examining himself in the mirror, some familiar arms wrapped around his waist, and a familiar face joined his own in the mirror as Ryan pressed his chest against Brendon’s back and shoulder and pressed a kiss onto his cheek. Ryan was grinning, and Brendon relaxed into his arms, smiling with equal enthusiasm. Hey. He let himself be turned around and pressed close, holding onto his arm and his side, looking up at him, enamoured. Were you getting ready for me? That’s so fucking cute. Laughing softly, brendon shrugged his shoulders back, noting how Ryan kind of smelled of whiskey and he definitely sounded a little tipsy. Surprisingly, he found it didn’t bother him.

”Yeah, baby, I wanted to look pretty,” He replied honestly, and was close to elaborating when Ryan leaned in to kiss him, a gesture Brendon returned enthusiastically for a few moments before Ryan pulled back way too soon. He chased again, reminiscent of the goodbyes at the doorway, and curled a hand tighter around his side just above his hip, almost possessive. I missed you so much, New York sucks, and. Twenty-one isn't as cool as people make it seem. Brendon raised an eyebrow. ”You kidding? You can buy me alcohol now.” He smiled, making sure Ryan knew he was definitely joking, and leaned up to kiss him again, moving his arms to wrap around his neck this time. There was a weird combination of relaxation and urgency- they had all the time in the world but Brendon wanted to hurry. This lead to him speaking between kisses, words and phrases between kisses punctuated with intakes and exhales of breath. ”I forgot how tall you are now,” He managed, biting his lip.

In this state, Ryan felt like a deployed soldier coming back home, or something, 'cause he was really that dramatic and Brendon's smile was just that showstopping especially after not having seen it in person for a couple of days. It dawned on him only after he'd successfully turned Brendon towards him that maybe he shouldn't have crept up on him like that, but luckily all he was greeted by was pure affection, like Ryan couldn't shock him if he tried. Probably true, considering how predictable they'd become to one another. Still- Ryan wouldn't have guessed that Brendon might actually prepare for his return home, and he had to laugh a little at the sight of Brendon primping like he was about to go on his first date.

Yeah, baby, I wanted to look pretty. This was beyond amusing to Ryan, who, despite an hour or so having passed since his last shot, broke out into a mixture of soft laughter and a lopsided grin before he was kissing Brendon again. "Mission accomplished, then." Ryan leaned into him, fully not taking into account their size difference while he gradually became more dependent on Brendon for balance (though to be fair if he was stood on his own he'd probably just be at a slant, Pisa-style). You kidding? You can buy me alcohol now. Ryan did not have the sense of humor about grim experiences that Brendon's 'father' and said father's boyfriend had, so if he was sober he'd definitely be pouting like a kicked puppy, but fortunately now all he could do was laugh gently again, rolling his eyes exasperatedly.

When Brendon's arms were wrapped over his shoulders he distantly began to worry about how capable they were of staying upright, so, very responsibly, Ryan turned them a little once more until Brendon was back against the counter, securing his own arms around his waist. I forgot how tall you are now. "Two days," Ryan reminded him, lifting Brendon slightly and pushing forward until he had him sitting on the counter. Evidently, his tipsy mind thought this was the peak of romance. "Imagine if I left for a week! You'd forget what I look like." Kidding, of course, 'cause when he caught sight of Brendon biting his lip like that he was fairly certain it'd be burned in his memory forever, and Brendon was about equally obsessed as he was. Maybe. They had an (unspoken, but very real) ongoing competition for who was worst about it.

Ryan stopped to study him for a second, resisting the natural urge to just kiss Brendon 'til he couldn't anymore, and everything else slowed down in tune. He could finally register the lingering alcohol on him, and all the other typical club flavors - smoke from various sources, sweat, someone's overdone cologne. Not very strong, at least, but still. He decided he didn't love it so much, but then he wasn't surprised; he'd always guessed people were over-hyping being twenty-one anyway. "I should've stayed home," he reflected, more fond than it was a sad statement. "No offense to everyone else's plans, but. I much prefer you." Ryan cracked up a little, pulling Brendon to him by the fabric of his sweater and kissing him again, finally giving in to temptation. In the back of his mind he worried a little that maybe being like he was wasn't good for Brendon - not that he really underestimated him these days, but Ryan figured if the tables were turned he'd be somewhat bothered himself.

After a pause he finally registered more than just Brendon's face, captured by his smile thus far. More than that, he had on this cropped sweater that really made it seem like Brendon had some sort of bounty on Ryan's head. He fiddled with the hem a little, pinching the threads between his fingers and brushing his knuckles against Brendon's skin absently. "Um," he said, very intelligently. "So, you can't wear this if I ever have to, like, focus on something. Just letting you know in advance." Ryan grinned, hearing his own speech just barely blur together, not caring enough to correct it. "'Wanted to look pretty' my ass. You're gorgeous."

Brendon sometimes wondered in passing how the hell they were still like this- ‘this’ being overly, ridiculously affectionate and mutually obsessed, the kind of relationship that seemed to be in its first few months, like a too-good-to-be-true honeymoon period, and Brendon, when he thought about it, kind of supposed it was. When they had first started dating, it was in ilvermorny- Brendon was trying to shake off the resounding, heavy impact of strict, bigoted religious parenting, and the subsequent internal homophobia that still crept up on him now and then, though he didn’t mention it. Ryan, on the other hand, was still going through a perpetual rough patch with his dad. This was about the time that they both declared their hatred for alcohol and alcoholics, not knowing that Brendon would be in the same position just a few years down the line and that one of his closest friends would also have the illness. The first years of their relationship were awkward and adolescent, though they had a bond strong enough that meant when Brendon had to move to the UK, it hit them both hard. Ryan stopped eating and became something of a ghost, and Brendon turned to the one thing he knew that people used to try and feel better; the same thing he’d sworn off in support of his first boyfriend.

After that, the main problem was obviously Brendon suffering from alcoholism, but with a little help from Joey he managed to get into recovery after a lot of coaxing. That’s where they were now- Brendon was struggling on, really, but he didn’t tend to talk about it if he didn’t have to. He liked it when Ryan didn’t have to come home and have that angry-sad-disappointed expression on his face, or worse, when Ryan’s face was completely blank. So it was the first unhindered chapter in their relationship, so they could be easily affectionate and never got bored of eachother and the place they’d always rather be was together, at home. This was almost the reason Brendon felt compelled to look nice (not compelled, really, he just wanted to), and why he spent just under an hour trying to preen himself into presentability. It worked, obviously, because when a newly returned Ryan finished kissing him... Mission accomplished.

Brendon smiled, holding onto his boyfriend carefully because he was almost scared he’d push them both over, and kissed him again on the jaw, moving a hand to interlace his fingers carelessly with Ryan’s. He was about to suggest moving, but before he could say anything, Ryan actually lifted him into the counter and all Brendon could do was blink, wrapping his legs around Ryan’s waist with a grin once he’d recovered, though he still looked enamoured, inhaling sharply. Two days. ”Two days too many,” He commented, raising an eyebrow, then biting down on his bottom lip to stop himself saying some things he had in his head that were way too dramatic considering the situation. Imagine if I left for a week! You’d forget what I look like. Brendon scoffed immediately, tilting his head and studying his boyfriends face, trying not to focus too long on the eyes or he’d never look away. ”You better not leave for a week.”

I should’ve stayed home. Brendon nodded vigourously, in full agreement- the past two days had been boring, and lonely, and Brendon would never get that time back. He hadn’t even seen Ryan on his birthday, technically. That sucked. ”You’re right. Think of all the things we could have done with that time.” That was an open-ended statement, and with Ryan in his current tipsy state, he wondered whether he’d get anything out of him regarding that. No offense to everyone else’s plans, but. I much prefer you. Then they were kissing again, and Brendon tasted faint traces of whiskey again. He kind of pulled him as close as possible with his legs and reached up to move a hand into his curly hair, curling it around his fingers and then pulling just hard enough so Ryan could feel it.

They broke apart and Brendon reluctantly let go of his hair, just watched Ryan’s expression change intelligently. Um. Brendon tried not to laugh. So, you can't wear this if I ever have to, like, focus on something. Just letting you know in advance. He watched Ryan play with the hem, wondering what was going through his mind and deciding he’d find out. "Maybe I’ll wear it especially on days you have to focus on something. A challenging element.” He paused. ”Hey, what are you thinkin’ about? Like, me, obviously, but specifically. I’m curious.” That was a baited question, really, but when Ryan told him he was gorgeous, he forgot all about that and melted a little where he sat, moving a hand to the back of his neck and coaxing him in again.

/