Ryan was, in short, everything he could have asked for in a boyfriend and more- he was sweet, attentive, caring, organised, adoring, affectionate, meticulous, reliable, the like- but along with those positive Virgo traits came a host of less favourable personality quirks. Ryan could be something of a control freak, overly critical, had a mean-spirited and ruthless dry side- not to Brendon, but it was still evident- he could be judgemental, closed off, passive aggressive. Brendon had learned, though, that the point of a relationship wasn’t to try and fix’ anyone, but making them happy, improving eachother, not holding a grudge against them for mistakes or personality traits. It wasn’t about perfection, it was about realistically being happy, and if Brendon held every slightly negative trait against Ryan and criticised him for it, and vice versa, then they would never work. So, Brendon, an exuberant and passionate but hot-headed and stubborn Aries, felt himself slowly falling in love with Ryan, a more mellow and subtly witty but self-critical and fastidious Virgo- not that he was ready to admit that, yet. He wasn’t even sure what he felt was what he thought he felt. It was all too confusing; Brendon didn’t like not knowing things, so he procrastinated even thinking about it for too long, or he was overwhelmed by both anxiety and affection and that cocktail of emotions was a disastrous one.

That was all well and good, but they shouldn’t let eachother get away with shitty actions and behaviour, and Brendon’s callousness (or most likely obliviousness) to Ryan’s feeling of neglect when he was out partying was the definition of shitty behaviour. He cast aside pre-meditated plans for a date with Ryan in favour of some random A-lister party and lots of alcohol- naturally, not a great move, and Ryan didn’t feel too happy about it, or very prioritised. Brendon wasn’t stupid, but he didn’t realise Ryan cared that much, because Ryan was used to not telling Brendon how he felt at this point- because [i]Brendon[/i] couldn’t handle criticism. It was a cycle they needed to get out of if it was going to work- because Ryan didn’t deserve second class treatment, and Brendon wouldn’t benefit from Ryan stewing silently on all the wrongs that Brendon had done upon him. They needed to communicate- Ryan needed to stop sugarcoating everything in order to cushion the blow, and Brendon needed to stop being oversensitive and defensive about everything he did. They had a lot of work to do, but at heart, they understood eachother. It was just a matter of stubbornness and closeness- becoming less like two separate units tentatively holding hands, and more like one, embraced. So to speak.

Apparently that wasn’t going too well that particular night, because Brendon shamelessly bailed again and Ryan said nothing, just went along with it. For Brendon, it was great- he could have a great time with semi-strangers and famous friends (depending on what you qualified as friends), drinking himself silly because he hadn’t known any different his entire life. It was a miracle he hadn’t developed some kind of addiction yet, and it was even a stretch to say he had a [i]problem-[/i] He didn’t feel like he needed to drink, per say, he just enjoyed it so much that he wanted to, even after killer headaches and ruthless hangovers. Nevertheless, it was still unhealthy- Brendon just brushed off any concerns people expressed by telling them they were boring, they needed to get a better hobby than judging him all the time, it was none of their business how much he drank. Ryan, unfortunately, included. He was just used to being on the defensive all the time that he didn’t recognise that people genuinely were concerned about his wellbeing. His father, for example, always told him to curb it on the bad habits- but Brendon could tell he cared less about Brendon’s health and more about his own image as a father and as a man.

So, in short, Brendon still wasn’t fully ready to receive criticism, or what he saw as patronisation. When Ryan came over, all gentle even, arm looped around him and hand at his waist, he initially felt like leaning back into his arms and falling asleep- but the laughs from the little entourage he had nearby and surrounding him told him he should probably ignore whatever Ryan was about to say. Something about wanting to go home- hard pass, Brendon thought, as he stepped away from his grasp, then made an offhand, dismissive comment that was barely concealed code for ‘leave me alone/go away, you’re ruining my fun’. So, Ryan actually left, and Brendon didn’t even look back to check. He thought at the back of his mind that it was okay, he’d be at his penthouse, he’d see him later and they could have their alone time. He didn’t think about the fact he’d be much more drunk and would probably only talk about being ‘dicked down’ or something along those lines. Intoxicated Brendon was a handful, to say the least, Ryan learned the hard way that any filter he might have had went completely out of the window.

And that was the case through text, too, even if it was hard to tell because Brendon’s drunk typing was barely legible. He didn’t think before he wrote, didn’t think that maybe he was overreacting- he was just pissed, because he’d left that party because he missed his boyfriend and his boyfriend had decided to swan home instead of to his penthouse like they agreed. The texts he sent were fuelled by pettiness, and when he put his found down to wait for a response (sometime tonight, hopefully. If Ryan was asleep, he’d be even more mad) he began to unbutton the top few fastenings of his long-sleeved shirt because it was warm as hell in his apartment. He considered going for a swim- maybe not a good idea for drunk Brendon, but he was never one for good ideas anyway. He looked down and saw that Ryan was typing, and laced his fingers together, eyebrows furrowed- but then his boyfriend was calling, and Ryan looked at the picture he used for his caller ID, wondering whether he should just leave it to ring. The temptation to be salty was too much, though, so he picked up, stayed silent. [i]Hey, B.[/i] Brendon scoffed immediately. [b]”Don’t [i]hey, b[/i] me, dick,”[/b] He muttered, blinking a little when he registered that yeah, Ryan was talking again. [i]So you made it home? Cool.[/i] [b]”No, [i]Ryan,[/i] I used my fucking psychic powers to notice that you aren’t in my apartment. Yeah, I’m home.”[/b] [i]Sorry, you were sort of being an asshole, and I didn’t want to deal with it at whatever ridiculous time you came back, so.[/i]

Brendon stayed in offended silence for a few moments, setting his jaw. Then he all but slurred his next sentence out, so he sounded pissed [i]and[/i] very drunk. Not a good combination. [b]”How was I being an asshole? I told you I didn’t want to go home. I’m allowed to stay out,”[/b] He snapped, leaning back in his chair and holding the phone close to his ear, all testy but barely listening. [b]”Y’know, I came back much earlier than usual because I missed you, and you fuck off away from me. Thanks, [i]baby.”[/i][/b] Brendon really did say things he didn’t mean a lot of the time- and a combination of impulsive, irritated thoughts and lack of filter was dangerous. He put his phone on speaker and cracked his knuckles idly. [i]Did you have a good time?[/i] Brendon’s response was immediate. [b]”Yeah, without you. You’d probably know what that was like if you didn’t have a stick so far up your ass,”[/b] He said, dragging his hands quickly down his face and then picking his phone up again. [b]”You know, whatever. I’ll go back out.”[/b]