At first, Brendon had felt well and truly lost in Ryan’s home. Well, it didn’t actually feel much like a home- it was just a house, a shell of a home, half moved in to and kind of void of any coziness or comfort. Everything was expensive, obviously, why wouldn’t it be; but nothing had any sentimental value. Sure, Ryan had creative direction over certain rooms, like the guest room, his own bedroom- and then his private study, the one that was barely used, but Brendon was still banned from going on. It made some kind of sense to sober Brendon- personal space, boundaries, all that- but Brendon got bored, very easily, and after a while, this huge mansion felt small because he’d been around it dozens of times, nothing was new anymore. Most of his free time was spent in the pool- thankfully very drunk Brendon hadn’t gone for a swim, because that could end- badly. Instead, curiosity got the better of him and he gained access to Ryan’s super secret study, which turned out to be- kind of boring. But what else did he expect from some brooding author. Everything he felt went onto the page, not into his surroundings, not to other people. Brendon was a little bitter about it.

And yet, though the room was average apart from a few journals and a computer, Ryan was pissed at him for going in. All this secrecy, to protect what? The musings of thirteen-year-old Ryan Ready? Maybe sober Brendon would tease him about that, but drunk Brendon? He didn’t care at all. His attention span was even shorter when he was intoxicated, so even as Ryan was talking, he stopped listening a couple of seconds in and instead started marvelling at how pretty he was, even this late at night, half-asleep, his hair tousled and curling endearingly, his eyes pretty and honey-coloured, though clearly tired- Brendon glanced, no, stared, at his mouth, blinked slowly as he listened to his low, rough voice but not the words he was saying. [i]I want to kiss him,[/i] He thought to himself, the wish innocent and chaste for the most part, born from a genuine affection and closeness he’d started to feel with a man whose heart he assumed was protected by a few hundred metaphorical walls. That chaste attitude, though, didn’t last long, because Ryan was annoyed with him, and Brendon thought that was hot. And he had no problem telling Ryan this.

Brendon was smirking, and he wet his lips a little, sucking in a breath as he watched Ryan gape like a goldfish for a good few seconds. He bit the inside of his cheek to stop himself from laughing. [i]Well, I’m not [/i]mad. Pathetic argument. Brendon thought he was cute when he was all flustered, too, and now he really just wanted to weave around the desk and kiss him against the wall and though he’d had thoughts like this before, it was now harder to curb is impulses. [b]”If this isn’t [i]mad,[/i]”[/b] -He reached over and clumsily snatched back the bottle Ryan had taken from him- [b]”I’d love to see what happens when you are.”[/b] Fingers wrapped around the neck of the bottle, he carelessly sat back in the chair, grinning mischievously, tipping the bottle jerkily to the side just to try and make Ryan sweat. Defiantly, he took another swig from the bottle and swallowed, before winking at him charmingly and leaning over to very indelicately place it back on the desk. Brendon had- some kind of death wish. Watching closely as Ryan folded his arms, almost in some kind of subconscious self-defence. Brendon was having a great time. He wanted to make Ryan sweat, just like Ryan had made him sweat just moments before.

He was waiting for Ryan to say something back, but instead he was a little startled when Ryan suddenly turned around and grabbed a chair to pull up close to the desk. Brendon his blinking himself fully awake so he could watch as Ryan picked up the bottle and seemingly tried alcohol for the first time in, like, his entire life. Clearly he wasn’t a fan- Brendon giggled at how Ryan’s face changed. Apparently everything was now a hundred times funnier. Brendon picked up the bottle again when Ryan pushed it back across the desk, and saw there was only a little left- so he knocked it all back and then put it back down after regarding the bottle with some curiosity. Wondering how much that cost, and how much liquid money he’d just drank away in a single night, he swallowed, deciding that it didn’t really matter. Like Ryan said before, he could quite easily just restock and replace everything that Brendon had drained dry from his usually untouched cupboards. Brendon leaned back, not taking his eyes off Ryan, still displaying that constant drunken half-smile and not being subtle about looking him up and down every couple of minutes, as if to check if anything had changed since the last time, and it never did. He’d still do whatever Ryan asked of him in a heartbeat.

[i]So you know about two rooms. I take it you couldn't figure out how to get into the studio?[/i] Brendon paused, looking up to meet Ryan’s eyes, putting hold on his rampant imagination and suddenly looking intensely interested. [b]”Studio? You have a studio?”[/b] His eyes lit up like it was christmas. [b]”You’re fuckin’ kidding. Why haven’t you shown me?”[/b] [i]That’s a shame. You’d probably really like it.[/i] Well, Yeah, duh. Brendon was pouting a little, but he was also verging on smiling because now he had the motivation to break into that room even if Ryan didn’t directly let him in. [i]And I'd probably have shown you if you didn't already disrespect all my boundaries. Sucks.[/i] Brendon’s face fell, and he immediately fast forwarded through a few stages of grief- denial, then bargaining. [b]”How do I make it up to you? What do I have to do?”[/b] -He glanced down at Ryan’s hands as he tapped against the desk- [b]”What do you want? My firstborn? A blowjob? My left arm? You have pretty hands,”[/b] He rambled, leaning excitedly on the desk, biting his lip and fully willing to sacrifice his soul just to see the kind of room he’d dreamt about having since he was just a little boy.