Since he'd started his career, Ryan had gradually become better at handling anything that would normally send him over the edge with anxiety; stage shows where one hundred things were coordinated to happen at the same time and at the right pace and in a timely manner or else everything was ruined tended to prepare you for most every high-stress situation that a normal person could stumble into. That paired with being incredibly young and naïve heightened matters, and everything else that followed, too, like the financial burden when even their semi-successful music could not make ends meet, or the separation from family, or the worry that all of this was wrong and maybe he should've chosen a normal career path instead of one that was incredibly unreliable, tried and tested so by millions of people before him. So. He was better than ever at dealing with nerves, yeah. It went without saying that these days not much swayed him, moreso little things like, dunno, making eye contact with a stranger. Strange how things worked that way.

Because it was basically as big a ceremony as yet another huge show, and he even had Brendon on his side and all of their friends before him, you'd think the wedding would be less nervewracking - and yet, there Ryan was, slightly shaking the entire time he clutched Brendon's hands before the audience they'd amassed. Maybe that was the difference. When Brendon proposed and they were in virtually the same position, he didn't feel anything close to anxiety, but in front of other people saying all of the same words, just more practiced and rehearsed, he couldn't cope as well. And that was exactly why he was marrying him, anyway: Brendon was the person who changed it all. Easy to be around, made it easier to be around anyone [i]else,[/i] basically fixed him. It sounded cliché, stereotypical, even a little cringey, but he honestly had nothing but Brendon to account for his ongoing story of personal improvement.

Anyway - it was a good kind of anxiety. The kind where he felt so choked up excited he thought he couldn't get enough air, the kind where he felt this building anticipation that sent him on his toes, the kind where he looked at Brendon and lost all sense of coherency because he knew this was what made their famed 'forever' official. He could hardly speak. Whereas Brendon delivered as beautiful a speech in his vows as his proposal was, baring his heart for not just him but everyone else they knew because evidently the vulnerability wasn't scary up there, Ryan could only summarize. He had whole journals and online entries and sticky note musings that could be gathered up and condensed into real vows, sure, but Ryan wasn't ready to talk for so long about someone who'd become a large part of every fibre of his own being, souls interwoven, or at least not in front of everyone who'd barely grasp it anyway. That's what it felt like - no matter how hard he tried, put his language mastery to use, it seemed like he would never be able to communicate exactly what he and Brendon had, and even if he came close no one past, present, or future would ever be able to relate on the same level.

A little dramatic, sure, but instead of saying any of [i]that[/i] and revealing quite how ridiculous his thought process was, Ryan boiled down everything he desperately wanted to say into an intricate little web of words, not much but expansive enough. Lucky for him he was marrying probably the most understanding man in the world, so. Brendon didn't look too hurt by the short and sweet rendition of things he could fill whole nights telling him. He did cry, though, somewhat worrying because that, like, [i]never[/i] happened, and the last time Ryan remembered it had to a serious extent nearly spelled the end of their relationship. Funny how things turned out - now the situation was the exact opposite, and now Ryan could wipe away his tears without it feeling wrong, could tangle bodily with him right after before they had to break away to find the reception. And, of course, Brendon had to perfect things even more with a song he'd written just for them, just for this, and nearly got him crying, too. Ryan swore that was the plan, honestly. Either way, they didn't ever part that night, and Ryan never stopped hearing that song in his head, the way Brendon's voice had never sounded so confident and strong.

Years into as successful careers as theirs, of course they could afford something totally unnecessary and beyond what they'd usually spend their money on. Cape Town was a dream. And it was meant for Brendon, as odd as that sounded; Ryan only ever envisioned him soaked with sunlight whenever they entertained the idea of a holiday, so of course their honeymoon had to be someplace that'd keep him glowing, where he could run to the beach whenever he wanted, where he had as much freedom as he could possibly get. More than the honeymoon was for them as a couple, Ryan truthfully just wanted to ensure Brendon was getting the absolute best destination possible. And, apparently, one where he could constantly be nearly-nude was that. It worked - Brendon enjoyed his vacation from clothes, and Ryan, more of a homebody, knew Brendon was his home anyway and enjoyed staring ninety percent of the time. Claiming to be reading, of course. Because he wasn't [i]so[/i] obvious.

[i]Lying there with a halo in her hair she cried...[/i] Of course Brendon had their own music on his shuffle. Ryan smiled at the book he'd been skimming the words to inattentively, simultaneously nostalgic and amused that it was playing at all, then glanced at Brendon once he felt his prodding. His sunglasses were lifted up to rest in his hair and this was the first time Ryan had seen his face in a minute; despite seeing it daily he still looked overly fond for half a second, drawn by the way he glowed in the light again. [i]This sounds familiar.[/i] [b]"Right?"[/b] Agreeably, Ryan tilted his head in time with Brendon, grinning at him a little sideways. Brendon probably sensed his distaste for hearing his own work (though he didn't mind nearly as much as he would if he was still singing), because he rose to turn it off, and Ryan planted his hand over his page absently to watch. [i]That’s a good song, though. Heard some guy wrote it about him and his boyfriend.[/i] While Brendon turned, Ryan looked considering again, shrugging a shoulder. [b]"Interesting. I hope they ended up getting married. Seems like he was pretty happy,"[/b] he mused, playing along. 

Seconds later Brendon was at the edge of the pool again, sliding into the water smoothly, instantly shining in the light again and such a picture of serene that Ryan forgot to look back down at his book. He watched him tilt back to face the sky, leaned nonchalant against the side of the water, thinking mostly about how he was the luckiest motherfucker alive to be spending a honeymoon in Cape Town with [i]Brendon [/i]of all people. Evidently he admired for too long, because Brendon returned to his immediate surroundings and opened his eyes to meet Ryan's. He practically scrambled to recalibrate, shoving a hand through his hair while he looked back down at what was definitely a totally different page than what he'd been reading before. Or maybe he'd just, like, completely forgotten what this book was about. Yeah, that seemed pretty likely. Ryan tried to look busy, like he hadn't been staring uselessly, cradling his jaw in his hand and placing his elbow on an armrest.
 
As if that was his cue, Brendon took a moment to dive under and return closer to him again, dripping incessantly once he was back out of the water. Ryan timed his glances up carefully to register that Brendon had found a towel and [i]sort[/i] of dried his hair, would probably have protested him remaining that wet whilst being so close to him and his book if the sun didn't tend to instantly help dry him anyway. When he could sneak a glance up again, Brendon was standing before him, like he was on a mission. [i]Come in with me, baby.[/i] Funny joke. Ryan raised an eyebrow at him and quirked his lips a little, but otherwise just looked back at his book, still trying to figure out what the hell he'd blanked on. Turns out it didn't matter anyway, because in no time Brendon was taking it from his hands with surety he couldn't dodge away from, and Ryan watched with withheld surprise as Brendon climbed over to sit with him. Although the intrusion was certainly rude, Ryan naturally caught him anyway, wrapping one arm around his waist once his arms were thrown around his neck and letting the other hang over the side of his chair.

He opened his mouth to protest this somehow, but Brendon pressed a kiss to his neck, so charmingly that Ryan remained silent without meaning to. [i]Hi. I’m your husband, not that book. Love [/i]me. Ryan paused, stuck in his gaze, pressing his fingers against Brendon's back like the beginnings of a lazy massage. [b]"You're right,"[/b] he said after a moment, looking apologetic as ever. Actually, he faked a short innocence act, made to look like he was holding Brendon tighter in an embrace. His free arm joined the other around Brendon, carrying him when he abruptly stood and went to the edge of the pool. Lucky Brendon was pretty goddamn tiny anyway, because he could still stop there and kiss him quick before letting both of them drop into the water, keeping his arms around Brendon while water splashed around them. He walked them along at a leisurely pace, one hand raising to hold the back of Brendon's head, a grin spreading across his face again. [b]"How about that? Sorry about the book. Thought it was a pretty good cover for me staring at you all day."[/b] While he absently pushed Brendon's hair back into place and smoothed it down, he tossed his own back, or at least made an effort in vain to shake it from his eyes.