Brendon didn’t usually get so comfortable with people quickly, but when he did, he acted as if he’d known the person for his entire life. Unfortunately for him, that comfort wasn’t always mutual, and he often came on too strong; for example, with Ryan. He wasn’t completely there yet with his boss/housemate, so he took risks in his behaviour, tested the waters, the limits of what he could and couldn’t appropriately say and/or do- and initially, when he just told Ryan to ‘shut up’ (even if it was just preceding a compliment), for a moment he thought he was going to be reprimanded, and was already thinking about the quickest route outside so he could drown himself in the pool he’d already spent so much time in. That eyebrow raise- Brendon froze up for such a brief moment that it was hardly noticeable, almost sure he’d overstepped whatever boundary they had. Thankfully, though, Ryan stayed quiet and looked interested, so he continued, albeit with more caution and carefully chosen language. For a moment, his compliment bore no reaction, and admittedly, it was pretty lame as far as flattery went.

A few heartbeats later, though, Brendon could see that smile that Ryan attempted to hide behind his mug, and returned a slightly sleepy grin of his own that turned quickly into a barely suppressed yawn. Turns out all the soda wasn’t doing too good a job at energising him after all. Brendon was close to excusing himself and going back to his room, still hyperaware of his half-dressed state, but was interrupted before he could even speak up. [i]Shut up.[/i] Oh. Brendon couldn’t decide how to react- was he being serious? If he was, Brendon had mastered the kicked puppy look, and also the art of quickly retreating to save himself embarrassment. If it was a joke, he would laugh, but the only thing he gave Ryan right now was a cautious, apprehensive half-smile as he again scratched at the back of his neck where his hairline faded into his skin. [i]You’re the most talented person I’ve ever met.[/i] Brendon blinked. [i]Oh.[/i] At first, he was floored by the compliment, but then he was doubtful. Ryan had seen him play maybe a couple of times on piano and guitar each, and he hadn’t even heard him sing (as far as he knew. Usually, when people heard Brendon sing the first time, they had something to say about it, so he’d be a little offended if Ryan found it unremarkable enough not to even comment).

[b]”Thank you,”[/b] Brendon said, looking down at the kitchen tile as if it was very interesting because he was flushing again and this was stupid, he knew he was talented, it wasn’t news to him, compliments didn’t usuallt make him this bashful- this sheepish, almost embarrassed reaction was otherworldly to him. Something felt a little different. Maybe it was the honour of receiving such high praise from somebody so- to put it plainly- rich and intelligent and talented himself. It was nice, but Brendon wasn’t usually this sentimental and he was close to bowing out and finally backing up into his room; luckily the subject was changed and the blood left his face so his complexion was normal and didn’t completely betray his feelings. [i]And yet, you didn’t actually make fun of me.[/i] Brendon rested both of his palms against the counter on either side of his hips, crossing his ankles where his feet were planted on the floor, and tilted his head, his hair springing off gently to the side in the process, the stubborn cowlick falling over his eyes. He couldn’t be bothered fixing it any more. [b]”I want a job, don’t I?”[/b]

An effortless grin, natural charm, and Brendon was apparently back, a far cry from being bashful in such a short time. [i]Thank you for having mercy.[/i] [b]”I’d say it’s more- [i]self-preservation.”[/i][/b] A pause, a smirk. [b]”If I had a little more job security, you’d be [i]in pieces [/i]by now.”[/b] Brendon’s thoughts then turned back time to when they first met, and Brendon enviously stared at his cigarette and all the ashtrays everywhere the entire time. He knew Ryan smoked in the late mornings, evenings, and apparently indoors until the sun rose. He could obviously afford the habit. Brendon couldn’t, really. But that never stopped him in the past- Spencer did. Kind of. [i]Maybe I shouldn’t.[/i] Dickhead. Brendon tilted his head, pretended to look interested in what he had to say. [i]I mean, you’re a musician. I shouldn’t corrupt your voice before I get to hear it properly.[/i] [b]”And yet there you are, a musician,”[/b] Brendon replied archly, [b]”Corrupting your own.”[/b] So he was [i]half[/i] joking, at a stretch, but he was also hinting at hearing Ryan’s singing. He was sure it was good, but he couldn’t pair any farbricated voice with Ryan’s face or his normal speech, and he was extremely interested to hear it. Not that Ryan, expert recluse, would ever real something so [i]personal.[/i] Maybe He was salty- but he hid it well.

[i]Whenever that is.[/i] Subtle, Brendon thought, clicking his tongue- but he couldn’t help but smile, shrugging one shoulder to keep some mystery at least. [b]”What, you want me to serenade you right now? What would I even sing?”[/b] Like that was even a question- Sinatra, obviously. Who else? It wasn’t like he had that portrait permanently inked on his arm for nothing. Brendon was lost in thought about which song would best showcase his voice when Ryan caught him in the dark about the books he was supposed to be reading while he was lying on an insanely comfortable bed trying not to spill soda on the sheets and the cream carpet. That would mostly likely not go down well; maybe just like the information that Brendon hadn’t even finished the first novel yet. He tried not to stutter- Brendon was the master of faking it til he made it. [i]Hey, don’t stress about it. I’m not worried at all.[/i] Too late for that, anxiety was building up in his throat and his chest and his stomach, and he’d fucked this up already, why is it so difficult for you to just sit down and concentrate for more than five seconds on something that isn’t a video game, [i]Brendon...[/i]

[i]You know, most people take a long time to finish it. It's not really... 'read in one sitting' material. Heavy subjects, and all.[/i] Brendon nodded stiffly, inhaled and exhaled, hoping that his brief freakout hadn’t been noticed. At least other people took a while to read it, and it wasn’t just- Brendon shook his head slightly, closed his eyes, then nodded to show he understand. Shit, Brendon, you’re so fucking dumb, stop overreacting, you’re fine. [b]”Oh,”[/b] He said suddenly, looking up, [b]”Yeah, it’s uh, heavy- I was wondering where you get the inspiration to write that kind of shit comes from. Is it not draining?”[/b] Maybe he was over the line, but some of the stuff Ryan wrote about seemed to dark and realistic for the author to have just pulled it out of nothing. He could be completely wrong, but if he wanted to understand the books, he’d have to know.