Brendon had never imagined himself getting married, ever- all the way from his youth, through to- well, still his youth, really; and that was the problem. He was young, and had no experience with committed, serious relationships aside from 8 months of flirting and a year-long relationship with Ryan, his celebrity crush, turned his bandmate, turned his boyfriend. It wasn’t just even marriage- that would be years away from anybody at Brendon’s age, usually, anyway- any serious marker made him nervous, their year anniversary made him anxious beyond explanation. It was strange, considering they’d both confessed to eachother by the lake that they were [i]in love[/i]- not that they just liked eachother, they were in love. Brendon was in many ways much more comfortable with the raw emotion and passion he experienced with Ryan than he was with the official couple ‘things’ they had to do- like, move in, meet the parents (not that either of them seemed particularly fond of that idea, for reasons they had actually discussed), meet year markers, get pets, get married, all of that that should have been exciting but Brendon just found it beyond nerve-racking, immobilising. He would have been perfectly fine with continuing as they did, taking it day by day, spending entire days in bed entangled together, just being them, simple, in love. He wanted to absorb every moment of the present and the past but it frightened him to speculate about their future.

Maybe it was what he’d seen from his upbringing- Mormon marriage, often strained, forced, like they stayed together because it would be too much hassle and judgement to break it off. He didn’t want that, but he’d started thinking- he and Ryan had been dating for a year, they were in love. If they did this any longer, say, two, three, four years, if either of them got cold feet (which Brendon usually didn’t even consider- like he said, he detested planning ahead, but anxiety did stuff to a guy), to break it off would mean they’d wasted years of their life in a relationship that ended in tatters. Brendon was a surprisingly black and white thinker, and the paranoia of that happening as well as his fear that he or Ryan had just settled on the first guy/first [i]person[/i] they’d ever properly dated meant that his anxiety about it elevated until he felt like the only way to stop it ending on a much worse note was to end it now, save unnecessary longevity when the pain at the end was inevitable. If he stopped to breathe and think and actually talk to Ryan, maybe he’d see he was overreacting- but to Brendon, it was all stressing him out too much to handle.

Until he ended up in Ryan’s arms, and for a moment, he felt at peace. This was the man he’d fallen in love with- his eyes, his arms, his hands, his mouth, his voice, everything- if what he felt was really so strong, why did he have doubts? And that there set him off again. He had doubts- did he really feel legitimately in love? Was the feeling he perceived to be love something else, fabricated, a case of mistaken identity? Brendon’s mind worked too fast for him to even keep track of it, so he just shut his eyes tight to try and block it out, but it made it worse. In an attempt to distract himself, he leaned up, planted a gentle kiss on his jaw. They were fine. But then Ryan unintentionally pushed him over the edge and it was all too much for him. He wanted- needed- to get out of this before it overwhelmed him. Brendon stepped back, stepped out of Ryan’s familiar, comforting embrace, away from the pulse of his heartbeat under his v-neck. Brendon’s stomach twisted. He’d have to give clothes back, he’d have to take his things from Ryan’s apartment, Brendon you’re a fucking idiot, why do you have to overreact to everything. Ryan looked surprised, but he was still smiling. Brendon’s shoulder’s were frozen, and when he stuttered out what was intended to be a breakup speech, he saw the small smile playing on Ryan’s lips fade in an instant.

[i]Don’t say that.[/i] Brendon felt a sharp pain in his chest when he heard Ryan’s deflated voice, and though he willed himself to, he didn’t move back when Ryan reached up and cradled his jaw gently. Brendon could barely bring himself to meet his eyes, but he did- his own were starting to sting already. He’d never anticipated that he’d cry; yeah, he was an emotional person in general, but he figured that because this breakup made sense, it wouldn’t be so goddamn difficult. He was wrong. [i]Hey, you don’t have to- you don’t have to do that. We can wait a little while, okay?[/i] Didn’t have to do what? Move in him, or break up with him? Brendon distantly supposed that both were relevant, and though Brendon was appreciative that Ryan instantly backtracked upon learning Brendon wasn’t comfortable making that step, this breakup hadn’t been a spontaneous decision. Sure, it was Ryan’s proposal of moving in together that pushed him over the edge, but he’d come to the decision because of multiple different reasons. [b]”I know, Ry, I just-“[/b]

[i]Just think before you...[/i] [b]”I [i]have[/i] thought,”[/b] He cut in, attempting to sound assured, but only achieving a wavering, shaky tone that made it obvious he was on the verge of tears. Brendon was the one doing the ‘dumping’ here- why was he crying? Why did Ryan seem largely calm, collected? What was probably a carefully controlled defence mechanism only achieved making Brendon doubt even more than Ryan really loved him. And to doubt that was awful. [i]Why? What are you afraid of?[/i] Brendon looked down, swallowed, habitually but harshly dragged his hand through his hair and pushed it back so it was out of his eyes. [b]”I- Ryan, you know- You’re my first boyfriend.”[/b] He began, shifting on his feet, arms crossed over his chest, defensive. [b]”I’m the first guy you’ve ever dated. I fucking- What if you’ve just settled for the first one you liked? Neither of us have ever been in love- what if- what if you don’t love me? How would you even know?”[/b] Brendon looked lost, like he couldn’t find the words to make this sound less like a complete overreaction.