Brendon hadn’t intentionally been avoiding people, and therefore he guessed he wasn’t intentionally alone- he just was. Since the unfortunate fact was that a lot of his friends were mutual with Ryan (neither of them had any clue how, and probably, neither did the friends), a large portion of them were in NYC for Ryan’s party- the one that Ryan himself decided to ditch not even a couple of hours in, when Brendon thought about it and worked out flight times and recalled when it was all supposed to start. So, yeah, he’d been on his own in a hotel room for a few days; so what? He didn’t care. Brendon was a social creature, but he enjoyed being his own company sometimes. It meant he could eat as much candy as he wanted without being called a five year old by certain people. Well, one certain person, to be exact. He’d created his own solitary entertainment, alternating between channels every fifteen minutes because that was when he usually became bored of one activity, seeing how far across the table he could throw a skittle and land it in a solo cup. Singing in the shower. Almost falling asleep in the shower. Passing out throughout the day on the couch, even scribbling down the odd lyric that somehow came to mind in a place that wasn’t exactly inspiring. 

It wasn’t all bad, and Brendon had mixed feelings about the next few days where the whole band would arrive in Seattle for the show they were playing. For one, he missed Spencer and Jon (the latter of whom hadn’t even been invited to Ryan’s party), but for another, he’d have to put up with Ryan again for god knows how long. It seemed Christmas came early for him that night- the world famous Ryan Ready graced his presence sooner than he had to and Brendon was predictably [i]thrilled[/i] by the one person he actually genuinely hates crashing his peaceful night in and being a dick to him in his own hotel room. Brendon honestly couldn’t have been happier. At least this was a fantastic opportunity to mock him until he curled up into a ball and cried, which, the more Brendon observed, the more he wondered whether it was actually likely, and he started hoping that Ryan [i]didn’t[/i] get too upset because then he’d be sad and drunk, and that would be almost too pathetic for Brendon to bear. So he told himself it would be better in the long run if he quietened for a while, obeyed his own common sense for about two seconds before being tempted by Ryan’s vulnerability and giving in.

[i]Forget it.[/i] Yeah, he wasn’t expecting Ryan to stick by that half-ass attempt at an apology. He wasn’t even sorry for Brendon- he was sorry for himself, sorry that he had nobody else to go to other than the person he claimed to hate with his entire being. And he was sorry he had to [i]say[/i] sorry, because for once Brendon hadn’t been aggravating, he’d been in a different state, and all of this was the result of Ryan’s consecutive shitty decisions. Brendon was finding it hard to be sympathetic- he was just sick of Ryan’s whining and wanted him either gone or so silent that he forget he was there so he could finally go to bed and enjoy his final days of peace and quiet. Watching as Ryan tried to stand up, swaying slightly, Brendon smirked cynically, because this was all so stupid. Why couldn’t Ryan just stay at his stupid party and break up with his girlfriend there? Why did he have to follow the astoundingly apparently irresistible urge to fly across the country to see Brendon and Brendon alone? It was too much for Brendon, for whom the idea of passing the fuck out was becoming more and more favourable with every passing second of watching Ryan struggle to balance even when holding on to the back of the couch. 

Even so, he tried to control his temper and his voice, sounding as flat and nonchalant as possible, soft enough to stop Ryan from getting angry, firm and emotionless enough to stop him being all weird and in order to shut down the idea of Ryan maybe unloading any other personal shit onto him that Brendon really didn’t care that much about right now. First of all, he was too tired. Second of all, it was Ryan. His compassion only went so far for a man who had never shown similar support to him. [i]...I was going to come to Seattle, anyway. [/i]Brendon rolled his eyes, regarding Ryan judgmentally and clearly not buying his excuses. [i]For the show later.[/i] Did he mean the one that wasn’t even tomorrow? [i]It wasn’t just you.[/i] Brendon clenched his jaw, closed his hands into fists, and exhaled. [b]”Oh, it wasn’t just me, was it?”[/b] He stood up suddenly, animated, agitated, and took a few intentional steps forward towards Ryan, curling his hand around the wrist that was steadying Ryan against the couch and shoving him bodily backwards, his grip surprisingly strong enough to keep him more or less upright more out of necessity than caring whether he fell over. [b]”Not [i]just[/i] me, huh?”[/b]

Brendon tightened his grip on Ryan’s wrist, recalling how they’d done this a year ago when Ryan had been angry enough to shove him out of the bus. [b]”You’re a fucking joke. You can’t fly across the country like some lovesick dumbass and then turn on my doorstep, complaining about your girlfriend. [i]Oh, Brendon, my girlfriend doesn’t even know me.[/i]”[/b] The room was small enough so that when Brendon took another few steps forward and shouldered Ryan along with him, Ryan was more or less against the wall and Brendon was glaring up at him. [b][i]”Oh, Brendon, what should I do, I’m so pathetic that I can’t even talk to her.[/i] I tell you what I fucking think, try to at least make you stop being pathetic on my hotel room couch, and you turn around and tell me you came here because of the [i]show.[/i] You’re a lot of things, dickhead, but you’ve never been a good liar. So why don’t you tell me why you’re really here?”[/b]

There was a silence, and Brendon let go of Ryan’s wrist, and turned around, swearing. [b][i]”Fuck.[/i]”[/b] Half-stumbling, though he wasn’t even really drunk, Brendon went back over to the minifridge and opened it, slamming it shut again when he saw it was empty. [i]I don’t know, just. I knew I was going to have to break up with her, but hearing someone say it out loud... thanks, whatever.[/i] Brendon honestly couldn’t believe his ears. Inhaling sharply, he dragged his hands through his hair and down his face, and suddenly he was unbelievably warm, from anger or tension or whatever else. This is not the night he wanted, but it was the night he got. [b]”You’re a real fucking piece of work. I let you in my hotel room, I dare say give you [i]advice,[/i] And you can’t even properly thank me.”[/b] With purpose again, he headed back over to Ryan and fisted a hand into his shirt. [b]”What do I have to do to make you thank me, huh?”[/b] He leaned in close, waiting for Ryan to shove him away, but he was close enough now that he was speaking inches away from his mouth. [b]”Is this what you want, birthday boy? Is this why you’re here?”[/b]