Brendon wasn’t 21 yet, but it wasn’t like he didn’t drink as much, if not more than his older friends- he thought the whole thing was stupid, because who really waited until their 21st birthday party to drink for the first time? Obviously, though, Ryan’s birthday party was at a 21+ venue, and since Brendon was only 20, he wouldn’t be allowed in even if he wanted to go. Luckily for him, he definitely didn’t. Sure, he was the frontman of the band that Ryan was in- they probably spent more time together and Ryan did with his girlfriend (definitely not out of choice)- and ideally, they’d be very close friends, but no, Ryan hated Brendon’s guts and Brendon hated his right back. He was an entitled, pretentious, demanding, over-critical, self-pitying, stubborn asshole, and Brendon was at the petty point that just hearing Ryan breathe set him off. He imagined Ryan had some choice adjectives about him, too; Brendon had literally knocked him down a tier in a band that [i]he[/i] started, but hey. Brendon’s answer to that was ‘get better at singing, then’. Ryan could sing, but- Brendon’s voice was much more powerful and his range was astounding. In short, he was the stronger choice, and Ryan hated that because it wasn’t like he could really argue, no matter how much he tried to find fault with his notes.

That was one of Ryan’s issues. Brendon was amazingly, undeniably talented, and even the filter that was hatred that made everything Brendon did a hundred times worse still left Ryan jealous of his multi-instrumental prowess and his incredible vocal talent. Brendon’s issue with him was that he couldn’t even admit it. Brendon was under the impression at first that Ryan just wanted to see the band succeed- which would mean falling into place as lead guitarist and lyricist and allow Brendon the freedom to embrace the role as a frontman, a job that Ryan despised anyway- but now he thought that he just wanted to see Brendon fail, and was critical at every turn, shut down his ideas and threatened to, like, kick him out, even though he was now a major key in keeping the band successful and relevant. The appreciation for Ryan’s voice, still a little rough around the edges, was relatively niche, but now it was a novelty, a bonus, whenever it turned up in live performances. Spencer and Jon had even negotiated that Ryan take backing vocal duties on future records. Brendon wasn’t happy with that- he was wary that Ryan was shouldering in and trying to toss him to the curb,  like some kind of bizarre Shakespearean power struggle- but he accepted it. Maybe it would get Ryan off his back for two seconds.

But it didn’t. Even when Brendon wasn’t around, Ryan was asking where he was, presumably so he could rock up and ruin his day. It was the same the other way round. Brendon hated it when he was around, but hated it when he wasn’t there, either- he missed him, and it drove him crazy, because he didn’t know why. Sure, there was all of that tense subtext, but that alone didn’t equate to Brendon actually missing his presence. Maybe it was just odd to have him not around, because they were together so often. Not as often as they used to be- Ryan’s girlfriend of a year or so took up most of his free time- but still, it was an odd feeling, simultaneously detesting a person and feeling lost when they weren’t around. It didn’t make sense and Brendon didn’t try to make sense of it. He just ignored it, excused his constant enquiries about Ryan’s location, and got on with it. He’d put up with it all for a long time, and it was apparent that nothing was going to change any time soon- even, now, the presence of Keltie, who initially Brendon thought was a temporary thing, and he was proven wrong. Which was embarrassing. Brendon still stood by the whole ‘Ryan hasn’t a hetero bone in his body’ thing.

Besides sexuality, Brendon just thought Keltie was a little... Much. She seemed sweet, but Brendon watched their relationship turn sour in real time, even if only subtly. Speaking of Keltie, she was the one who tasked herself with throwing Ryan a birthday party- and Brendon was out before anyone could tell him he wasn’t even invited. He saw it all over social media, though, when the night came around, and spent most of th night vagueing about it, laughing at all the pictures of Ryan, and posting every twenty minutes about what [i]he[/i] was doing (watching TV and eating takeout). He kind of wished he’d snuck into the party, now, because the whole theme was [i]embarassing Ryan[/i], which sounded like his own personal heaven. That was okay for an enemy to think, but a girlfriend? Brendon wasn’t sure why he even cared, but thinking about it, did Keltie even know Ryan at all? She looked at him like a weird zoo animal, fascinated but not understanding, like he wasn’t her boyfriend but a novelty for her to parade around. Yeah, okay, Brendon was observant. And he knew enough about Ryan that he could see the absolute horror on his face in some photos, and clearly it wasn’t a great night for him. Brendon relished that idea. It was the least he deserved.

So, once he got bored of watching for updates about Ryan’s birthday party across the country, he raided the minifridge for a few snacks and those mini bottles of alcohol, downing a couple pretty quickly and breaking into a bag of skittles. He was on the hotel couch, wearing pyjama pants and no shirt. He’d grown a stubble- mostly out of not bothering to clean shave. His hair, though, had been cut a little shorter, styled more than usual, even if at the moment he was sporting a semi-bedhead, locks falling into his eyes. He had a bag of skittles nestled in his arm and a few tiny, empty bottles lined up on the coffee table. His phone was charging in the corner, on silent, and the TV was on, some eighties music channel that Brendon was half paying attention to; It was late, his plan was to pass out watching it. His night was already planned out- and the last thing he expected was a knock on his hotel room door. Cleaners? At this time of night? Sighing, he unfolded his body from the couch and crossed the room to the door, rubbing a hand over his face and through his hair and pulling the door open, hanging onto the doorframe.

[i]Hey, what’s up, is this the hotel bar?[/i] What- what. Brendon blinked, blinked again. Was he hallucinating? He did a double take, a triple take, went for a fourth look, but Ryan was already weaving around him to get into his hotel room. Brendon turned around, baffled, shut the door behind him, taking a moment before he finally realised that Ryan fucking Ready was in his hotel room. The same Ryan Ready who was supposed to be at his birthday party right now, in New York. Brendon leaned against the door, almost not knowing how to react, and then he followed Ryan, lost for words. [i]I’ll reimburse you.[/i] Brendon frowned when he saw the bottles Ryan had in his hands. [b]”You fucking better, what the fuck are you-”[/b] [i]So, what does the famed Brendon Blake get up to on a Thursday night?[/i] Brendon was still coming to terms with this as Ryan collapsed onto the sofa. It took him a moment to formulate a sentence. [b]”...What the fuck are you doing in [i]my[/i] hotel room on a Thursday night when you’re supposed to be at your birthday party? In [i]New York?[/i]”[/b] Brendon exhaled, dragging a hand through his hair and then crossing his arms over his chest, clearly unimpressed. But then a smirk crept up to his lips. [b]”Did you fly across the country to see me instead of your girlfriend?”[/b] A pause. [b]”Fuckin’ loser. Does she know you’re here?”[/b]