Brendon was fully aware of most things about him on the internet. He didn’t read all the articles, but he got the gist from the headlines; he knew about his weird amount of fans considering he didn’t really have a career besides going live on Instagram and singing, going to rich people’s parties, the occasional modelling job when he could be bothered and endorsing different fashion designers when his mother bothered him about actually doing something ‘productive’ with his time. He was a celebrity by birth, he had been in the spotlight since he was young and didn’t remember anything else but cameras and news stories and speculation about his private life that wasn’t really private anymore. Still, it wasn’t like he minded- in fact, he loved the attention that came with having his own vast group of admirers, those who had a hopeless, common crush on the handsome playboy son of a billionaire. He had once actually slept with the chairperson of his official ‘fan club’ (nobody would ever believe them anyway). Brendon was aware of his online presence and he’d stopped caring what people thought about him a while ago- as long as it was about him, what was the problem?

To be that offhand was easier said than done, though, and there were [i]some[/i] things on his Wikipedia page of all places that he didn’t even know were up there. His middle name, for example- he had never told anyone that, but somehow it was up there anyway. So he had no idea that Ryan was on all three lists he’d just mentioned. Embarrassing, considering he’d only known Ryan for a few months- but then Ryan was also now one of his closest friends. So he wouldn’t really mind that much. [i]I’m so lucky.[/i] Brendon nodded in agreement, even though when it came down to it, it really wasn’t that difficult to get in his bed. Still. Quality and quantity could, contrary to believe, exist side by side. [b]”Very, darlin’.”[/b] He said softly, after a moment, returning Ryan’s slight smirk. [b]”Oh, by the way, uh. You’ve got hickeys. You’re welcome.”[/b] He mused, eyeing Ryan’s neck where purple and grey bruises had started to flower under his pale skin. Brendon felt a strange rush, and a tiny part of him wished he had something to show, too.

That longing quickly evaporated, because not moments later Brendon was livid, and couldn’t believe the words coming out of Ryan’s mouth because they were hat hypocritical and shortsighted. His jaw slackened momentarily as he swallowed and then he tensed it again, keeping himself calm only long enough for Ryan to get out his last couple of words. Then, he retaliated, quickly and venomously- he was angry, but he was also upset; he now knew that Ryan thought him heartless and though he always insisted he didn’t care, that bothered him. A lot. Which is why in his argument he didn’t hold back, and watched almost triumphantly as Ryan started to wither under the forcefulness and spite in his tone. [i]That’s[/i] not [i]how it is.[/i] Brendon scoffed.[b] “How is it [i]not?[/i] If you actually cared so much about my safety or integrity or whatever, you wouldn’t have, y’know, fucked me last night,”  [/b]He pointed out, his voice scathing, his knuckles white by his sides. [b]”The only reason you’re saying that is you’re disappointed I didn’t intend for us to cook breakfast in our underwear or whatever bullshit fantasy you’re playing out in your mind.”[/b]

Brendon was stressed and high-strung and he turned, letting his breath catch in his throat. [i]It’s always been relevant.[/i] He wasn’t really listening anymore- he just shook his head. He felt like he was being scolded by his dad about his reckless behaviour, or being patronised by his mom about his lack of meaningful emotional connections. Ryan was supposed to be his friend, and in his experience, a friend was someone who backed him no matter what and did whatever he wanted them to do. It explained a lot about him. [i]I - Brendon, you called me at three in the morning because you were alone.[/i] Presumptious. Brendon rolled his eyes and dragged his hands down his face, clenching his jaw again briefly. [b]”Ryan,”[/b] He responded, exasperated, [b]”I called you at 3 in the morning because I intended on sleeping with you. It’s not a difficult leap. It could have been practically anyone else- you were at the top of my recent contact list.”[/b] [i]It’s okay if you can’t make the connection easily so long as you make one at all.[/i] Ryan sounded like Brendon’s mom, and he felt a little sick.

He’d calmed down slightly- as in, he wasn’t yelling anymore- and he turned around, heading over to a convenient half-full bottle of red wine he’d left on a table and not even bothering to use a nearby glass. He just chugged, very gracefully, then swallowed, setting it down with a grimace. Honestly, he just wanted to be left alone so he could cope with this perceived personal attack by himself. [i]I - I don't know. Just, it'd be nice to see you... opening up, and being happy and comfortable enough with someone to do that. Fulfilled. I don't know.[/i] Brendon paused, and for a moment he desperately wished that he understood what the hell Ryan meant. [b]”I keep myself fulfilled, Ryan,”[/b] He murmured testily, indicating towards the wine and then raising an eyebrow. [b]”Material pleasure is fulfilling for me. Last night was a handy refill.” [/b] Brendon turned around again, finally, leaving the bottle on the table and facing his assistant warily. He just wanted him to go home.

[i]I'm sorry, it just - it didn't come out right. I didn't mean to sound like I was... judging, or whatever. I just worry, I guess. [/i]Brendon moved around him and sat back in his bed, pushing the velvet throw off the side onto the floor and settling down into the silk. [b]”You don’t have to [i]worry,[/i] Ryan. I’m not your boyfriend and I never will be. [i]You[/i] just have to do what I tell you to do- and I’m asking you, no, telling you, to get the fuck out. I’m not going to fire you, but I might [i]kill[/i] you.”[/b]