Personally Ryan wasn't even sure who he became attracted to, or if he even had a type at all. He'd not dated very much in the past, much less had one night stands. And if he did date, his streak tended generally towards women. Which was kind of misleading these days considering he couldn't imagine himself holding anything longterm in that sense. But still - the longest relationship he had had was with a girl who really only cared that he was pretty and acted just as pretty as he looked (supposedly, anyway; Ryan himself didn't really get it to this day). Little over two years wasted 'cause he appreciated the attention, really, and Ryan was fairly sure he hadn't changed much. He wouldn't recognize depth if it stared him in the face. Needless to say, any sort of positive glance in his direction was about enough, and he was endlessly easy when it came to being charmed. At least he was no longer in a place where he needed to be literally [i]taken care of[/i] by whoever he was dating because he was so irresponsible. In fact, his job was dependent on him not being that way anymore, fortunately.

Even so, it was becoming clearer to him recently that his type was very much every attribute Brendon possessed... unless he really had to stop and be honest with himself about it. Like, on one hand, Brendon's genuine grin even when a joke wasn't even that funny, the way his eyes lit up and curled with it, the way he talked and moved and acted like a prince with childish tendencies all the same; all of it and more was so appealing to him that he couldn't imagine Brendon having any faults. On the other hand, Brendon constantly made it obvious that he was indeed a flawed person just 'cause that was human nature. For instance, he totally had no self-awareness (because he'd never needed it in the past, presumably). It was a rare occasion when he took other people into consideration if he didn't know them personally (and even then that wasn't guaranteed), and he didn't give a flying fuck about his health unless it had an effect on his physical appearance. So Brendon was perfect, but not really, and if he didn't embody whatever was meant to be Ryan's 'type,' then he was redefining the image altogether.

Ryan watched Brendon's face shift as soon as he made his little joke and sort of wondered if he was just easier to set off at night. It wasn't usually this common that Ryan got on his nerves, but apparently he had a knack for it now - then again, he usually didn't feel so vulnerable and anxious himself, and he definitely hadn't been this completely informal ever before. So maybe that made the difference. [i]First of all, this is the first and last time I’m calling [/i]you [i]at 3am, there are plenty other people who would appreciate the gesture much more.[/i] This was their dynamic, Ryan reminded himself. They made dumb jabs at one another and didn't really bother being careful about it. Except he still felt his face fall slightly, fully believing in the moment that Brendon really didn't care whether it was him or some total stranger that walked in. He bit his lip and turned his head just a bit away, in case he was tempted to do something stupid like [i]speak[/i] or whatever.

[i]And anyway, it’s not that deep- I called you to get soda because I wanted soda.[/i] Ryan made a little 'hm' sound to pass as a response, but it wasn't all that convincing, so he added an equally gentle laugh as if he found it funny. Not really. Ryan just focused on getting back to standing straight and neutral-faced because he'd since started to look all slouchy and depressed, ridiculously affected by a few joking words. Probably joking - hopefully. [i]I bought a $60,000 bottle of water, once.[/i] Ryan was thankful for the distraction, even if it was a kind of bizarre anecdote. He looked at Brendon curiously, still working the hurt from his face. [i]Acqua di Cristallo Tributo a Modigliani. It was, uh, encased in 24k gold and the bottle was, like, a sculpture based on artwork by this Italian artist- Amedeo Clemente Modigliani.[/i] [b]"You remember the brand and the artist, despite the language barrier,"[/b] he observed, sounding impressed, quietly enough not to interrupt. He figured it'd probably sound patronizing if he questioned Brendon further than that, though, and let him continue. 

[i]Mixed with 5mg of gold dust. Tasted like normal ass spring water. In my defence, I was high as a fucking kite when I bought it.[/i] Maybe it was stupid to be so worried over little things, but first the sugar doses and this 'high as a fucking kite' thing - Ryan always felt at least vaguely concerned for Brendon's health. Probably hypocritical. After all, he'd just accepted a cigarette from him, which left a scent that still lingered on his person stubbornly and remained ashed on his fingertips. Other times he'd indulge Brendon in drinking with him, or he'd share whatever junk food he could, or he'd smoke weed 'til he was practically unable to walk home. So he wasn't much better, and yet he still felt the need to make sure Brendon was at least in fair health despite all the shit he did to or put into his body. He argued with himself that it was part of his job, not just him harboring a dumb, tiny crush that maybe wasn't so tiny but he was definitely going to get fucking rid of it ASAP. Probably. Hopefully. [b]"Right, well, tap water works, too, in case you weren't aware. It's 2018, you've got filters. No need for some Louvre water or whatever, rich boy."[/b] Ryan grinned, glad he could at least force something more than dry, quick sentences as he was wont to do when he felt out of his element.

He knew firsthand the shift in Brendon's features that came later but wasn't quite sure what to do with it. Ryan figured he'd just follow whatever lead would inevitably come from Brendon. [i]Sweet. But, seriously? Nobody expecting you? But you’re so...[/i] Ryan accidentally let a hopeful look through the metaphorical protective wall again, watching him and needing the validation. It was bullshit, probably. Brendon was the master at lying to get what he wanted, genius when it came to schmoozing, and here was a prime example... Unless he meant it and there was genuinely a compliment on the tip of his tongue. Ryan felt suddenly self-conscious when his eyes roamed but didn't change his stance, just gazing longingly right back for a moment, wondering what exactly he was thinking, what 'so' lead into. Unfortunately, Brendon seemed to abandon the thought and Ryan pursed his lips, hardening his expression again as much as he could- not very much, as it turned out. [b]"Yeah. No one."[/b] His voice was gentle, not bitter as his words may suggest but more matter-of-fact. 

[i]I think you should stay.[/i] Brendon's tone alone was calming but there was an edge Ryan couldn't put his finger on. His intuition, though, told him to get the hell out of there. Fuck his intuition when the 'tiny crush' in his head was screaming at the opportunity to stay over, get more time with Brendon than ever before. He wanted to know him, truly qualify as a best friend, and during the days he got to spend with Brendon there never seemed to be time to do that. Here, however, it felt slower, more surreal ever since they reentered the apartment. Slow and surreal, sure, but Ryan couldn't come close to adding 'serene' onto that list once he saw Brendon's shirt slip off, instead swallowing hard and trying desperately to stand his ground rather than instinctively back away. His gaze travelled over the ink painting his skin, newly interested in what they could mean and what story they might tell more than he was drawn by Brendon's general perfection otherwise.

Then, quicker than Ryan expected, he was close enough to feel the warmth radiating off him, and Ryan's gaze rose to meet his. Every impulse was something like 'kiss him' or 'touch him' or 'hold him,' but Ryan knew deep down that that could have no good results given the nature of their relationship, no matter how much he liked Brendon. So he placed a careful hand on Brendon's shoulder, less lovingly and more like he was keeping him from moving even nearer. [b]"Please don't be messing with me,"[/b] he murmured, knowing he must look far less blank than he wanted to. Ryan was no good at vulnerability and now it was so, so hard to avoid. [b]"Listen- I don't know if, if you know what you're doing. I don't even really know."[/b] He definitely did, actually. They weren't on the same page and probably never would be. It was killing him - but part of him really didn't mind and would rather take the leap on the off chance Brendon would change his mind. [b]"I'm not that kind of guy, Brendon."[/b] It was a weird way of saying 'I'm not cheap,' and he definitely didn't like the faint amount of hurt in his voice, but there was no going back now. Maybe he'd misread altogether and was making unfair accusations, even. At this point Ryan was sort of keeping the balcony in his mind as a gruesome backup escape plan.