Brendon wasn’t used to behaving like this. Out of the two of them, during arguments he was surprisingly the one that was usually more [i]meek,[/i] Less intimidating and more just persistent and stubborn. Ryan usually became genuinely angry faster, and Brendon supposed that was a reflection on their relationship. They were only like this because Ryan decided he was going to hate his guts from the very beginning, and Brendon just generously followed suit- it wasn’t like he could even pretend to like him or be civil for the band’s sake, because Ryan was just that antagonistic and they both just wanted to see eachother shrivel up with embarrassment, crack under pressure or explode with some kind of held-back rage. If it meant the other was experiencing any kind of intense negative emotion and it was completely obvious, they treated that as a victory. Brendon didn’t think about it all too much, because he worried that if he did, he’d feel some kind of remorse, wish he could turn back time and fix their relationship, make peace and get rid of whatever vendetta Ryan had against him. Maybe compromise more, criticise and insult less- Brendon knew how to be nice and he knew how to collaborate, but nobody saw that, because he wrestled with the duty of primary creative input in the band with the most insufferable man in the world.

So, usually, he’d be the one shoved backwards, if they ever even came to blows. Though their arguments were often heated and intense, it surprisingly rarely ever became physical, mostly because Brendon sort of knew that Ryan would have the advantage there (though it didn’t look like it), partly because they were worried that rage expressed in such an ungoverned and freeform way would morph from frustrated energy into something else. It was like that now- Brendon became so aggravated with Ryan’s absolute inability to be civil or polite even when Brendon did something arguable hospitable or even [i]nice[/i] that he pretty much went for him, using some unknown strength (he wasn’t scrawny, but he was small and not [i]muscular[/i]) to hold onto Ryan’s wrist as he shoved him backwards, not really caring at this point if he fell over or something. He just needed to get his point across, and apparently, this was the only way he could get through to somebody so stubborn and currently so drunk. Through yelling at him, tightening his grip on his wrist, ignoring his weak protests and shutting out thoughts of confusion as to why he wasn’t resisting very much aside from light tugs. Ryan was admittedly stronger than him, or at least taller, more physically imposing in that way. If he wanted to, he could gain the advantage- Brendon passed the missed opportunity off as Ryan being too drunk.

[i]Don’t fucking touch me.[/i] Brendon sneered, and now he was breathing heavily because he hadn’t moved much in the last few days and this was probably the most physical excursion he’d done. Shoved his bandmate against a wall. He tried not to think about the connotations too much there and also ignored how close they’d been to being functional together as people for a second there earlier, and how maybe Brendon jumped the gun and ruined it, Ryan was drunk and sad and he just needed to come round a little. Instead he ignored the half-hearted tugs at his restraint around Ryan’s wrist, and noted for the first time the lack of any real bite to his tone, despite it being a situation where typically, Ryan would usually yank his hand free and either retaliate or just spit insults at him and leave before either of them did something they were going to regret. Not immediately, obviously. They’d probably be triumphant and satisfied at first, but when they were being kicked out of the band for taking their ridiculous feud too far, they’d probably wish they had been a little more agreeable for once. [b]”What are you gonna do about it? Cry?”[/b]

He pulled back and let go of Ryan’s wrist, wringing his own hands as he crossed the room to get to the fridge, hanging on to the door even though he wasn’t drunk or dizzy, glancing inside, realising Ryan had generously taken and downed all of his little alcohol bottles and slamming it shut, endlessly irritated by this guy waltzing into his world and doing whatever he damn pleased, and he’d get away with it because he was [i]Ryan[/i] and he was [i]important to the band.[/i] Was he? Anybody could play guitar. His lyrics were unique, sure, but they made no [i]sense-[/i] Brendon had admittedly less master of language in some ways, a less extensive vocabulary, but in his head, that just meant he was less pretentious, made more sense, wrote actual discernible lyrics rather than fucked up poetry that people pretended was profound and it was actually up-its-own-ass garbage. Yeah, Brendon wasn’t having a very good night. Newly frustrated, he crossed the room again, clutched at the front of Ryan’s shirt, brought their faces close together and snarled out his provocative insults. He wanted Ryan to come undone, one way or another. Watching Ryan’s face intently, his jaw clenched, he noticed his eyes flicker around his face, and wondered what the hell he was thinking. Why wasn’t he saying anything back? Brendon opened his mouth to speak again, try and provoke a better reaction.

Before he could, Ryan was raising his arm and Brendon was almost prepared for him to hit him, or something, but then suddenly his hand was curled around the back of Brendon’s neck and he had closed the gap and their lips were together and Brendon felt a rush of heat and confusion- [i]what’s happening?[/i] He didn’t resist or pull back, but he didn’t return the kiss for a good second, until Ryan was tilting his head back and kissing him like he was starving and Brendon dug his fingers into Ryan’s chest through his shirt and returned the- favour?- allowing Ryan’s tongue into his mouth, then meeting it with his, his eyelids fluttering even when they were shut and his heart racing in his chest. He wasn’t even wearing a shirt. He imagined Ryan could actually hear it. Suddenly, though, Ryan pulled himself backwards like he’d been slapped, and Brendon leaned forward uncontrollably to continue their kiss. Then there were a few brief moments of silence, where they stared at eachother, weighing up what the hell just happened. Ryan’s hand curled over Brendon’s hand in his shirt at the same time that Brendon offered him a breathless, triumphant grin. [b]”So you didn’t come here just for me, right?”[/b]

[i]Fuck this.[/i] Brendon didn’t say a word- Ryan was the one who kissed [i]him,[/i] after all. [i]I’m leaving, alright? Like you want.[/i] Brendon wet his lips, stared at Ryan’s. He wasn’t sure he wanted that anymore. [i]Unless you want to give me more shit, then by all means, prolong your misery. I can’t stand you, either.[/i] Brendon rolled his eyes, tugged a little on his shirt as if attempting to get Ryan’s attention actually down to what was happening. [b]”Shut up for one second, will you?”[/b] He asked sarcastically, and he leaned up, merciless, to trace his tongue across his jaw and then talk into his ear. [b]”You can’t pretend that didn’t just happen. I won’t let you.”[/b] He then drew back for a second, but only a few inches. His heart was racing, he could feel Ryan’s going at a similar pace beneath his shirt. He ran his free hand through his hair, pushing it back, removing the locks that had fallen over his eyes, and greeted Ryan with yet another challenging, but this time heated, glare.