For Ryan, 'time heals all things' was a bullshit sentiment. He was dealt shitty cards in the first place, let himself break down over time, become less whole and more crumbly at the edges; it reached other people, too, though, and that was the problem. He had an extensive history of letting his own mess run out of control, hurting other people without really meaning to. Anyone he dated in his teen years became his codependent without question, despite him remaining completely invulnerable - he just strung people along, anyway. With friends he only valued the best of the best, which happened to be Spencer for the majority of his life. The rest he let sit in the sidelines, paying little attention to them unless they approached first, and with Spencer he was hardly as considerate as he should be half the time. In fact, because he was self-conscious in at least some respects, he sometimes doubted Spencer saw him as a best friend the way Ryan did him just because he tended to be that bad.

His worst crime was more in his twenties, though. Brendon had become the one he considered his best friend, his closest confidant, the love of his life, actually - and then he got scared, selfishly so, didn't even tell Brendon before abruptly breaking off the engagement. A lifetime of hurting people in little ways that added up thinking he was the victim because occasionally things didn't work out - a lifetime of immaturity - led him to be distrustful of the only genuine, functional romantic relationship he'd ever been in. At that point he could read Brendon so well, knew what mood he was in and when, knew what to say or do to help when it wasn't anything good, so on. And yet he didn't stop to consider exactly how badly this would mess him up in the long run. Sure, Ryan was affected, too; that was when he decided he wouldn't do anything as serious and long-term again, when he figured that he just wasn't cut out for it, when he broke even his own heart but pretended it was being protected.

Brendon, though. Who would he trust again? It's not like Ryan gave a particularly good or believable reason. At best, saying that the band separation would make it too hard on them, that Brendon would tour too long and they'd be apart or Ryan would be recording too often and they'd be distant, maybe all of that could be passed off as believable. Given some time, though, surely Brendon caught on to it all being bullshit if he didn't at first. And, horrifyingly, probably attributed some blame to himself. In fact none of it was about Brendon. Ryan's doubts about breaking off the engagement stemmed purely from the fact that he trusted Brendon more than anyone, that he knew Brendon better and more intimately than anyone else he'd ever met. When he shared as much of his life, been through the same unique experiences as Brendon as he had, it became hard to consistently believe he was capable of ever hurting Ryan 'first' - but his record streak was scary enough, at the time.

That was the key. [i]At the time.[/i] The aforementioned sentiment of 'time healing all things,' yeah, it sort of healed the wound of that whole mistake, breaking up what could have been the rest of a happy life with his soulmate. It sort of matured him as a person, made him realize that having a victim complex over every slight misfortune that happened upon him wasn't the right way to live, wasn't something that made him a very agreeable person. It sort of made him into someone calmer, who didn't worry and self-destruct over every tiny mistake and flaw, who wasn't so self-critical (and oftentimes outwardly critical) that it kept him up at night. He had his moments where he struggled with nerves, the brief chokehold of anxiety that he was oh-so-used to, but. These days, he was getting better. He'd had enough of a recovery period from the more hectic stage life, found himself a group of friends and a couple close ones, kept himself grounded with bizarre hobbies and mystical, secret music. And, most importantly, he tried to forgive himself for all the fucking up he did the rest of his life, tried not to forget everything about the band and his relationship (and every other thing he used to distance himself from for that matter) but hold it close to his heart, try to undo every wrong he'd done now rather than dwell. 

After all, it seemed like he was never going to see Brendon again to tell him how he felt about everything that had happened. There was no real revolution, in all honesty - he'd not dated anyone for as long since then, hadn't even desired a real relationship like it except for a few wandering moments. So it's not like he'd proven his initial engagement worries wrong. Still, he didn't exactly stand by the way he'd gone about it all, practically [i]abandoning[/i] the person he claimed to love so much - and the worst part was that he did, he truly, genuinely did, just. Didn't have the foresight to understand how deeply that would affect Brendon. For Ryan breakups were things that hurt the other person for maybe a month before he saw them with someone else. As young as he'd been, he figured Brendon would bounce back the same way. After all, time and dedication had nothing to do with it so long as Ryan was the common denominator. Yeah, some change had definitely been in order for his character. None of that was particularly rational.

Apparently, though, he was wrong. Ryan wasn't entirely, like, cornered, the way Brendon was, so maybe he was lucky to be the one looking out at the crowd at Brendon, surrounded by people gradually catching on to his presence and becoming more excited about him than the scheduled artists. After all, as much as that spotlight was on him and illuminating the cocktail of surprise and nostalgia and vague heartache, no one was looking at him when they could instead be directing their attention to the top hit, the one-man band, the jack of all musical trades. After so much time they'd certainly changed but at least one thing hadn't, and Ryan could instantly tell when anxiety set in for Brendon. His instinct, even still, was to help, to come offstage and wrap an arm around his shoulder and take him outside, away from everything that was too much and too overwhelming, to breathe fresh air like he used to. But they weren't that anymore. It was his decision, anyway. Ryan instead stood there with his hands wrapped tightly around his micstand then the neck of his guitar, watching someone who his brain still registered as 'best friend' suffer, unable to do much about it.

He decided to fool himself into believing he was mistaken, he was misreading him because of the light, and if he wasn't, well. Jon was there. Ryan was grateful for his presence, really, because he cushioned the blow at the very least (even though he'd been the instigator, fucking mastermind of mediating things like this since always). As much as the still-teenage, still-early-twenties part of him reacted characteristically, the thick blanket of dread falling over him and fleeting reattraction gracing his mind, Ryan was different now. He'd pushed himself to recover from it all and wanted so desperately to fix things to an amicable state of friendship that he gave Brendon a tiny smile, something revered; and Brendon clearly didn't feel the same. Ryan tried to forget about it fast, they could talk later. He focused on the song, trying not to think how it could have easily been about Brendon when really he couldn't even remember the girl's eye color now.

When he did try to talk to him, he was, unsurprisingly, not so well received. Truthfully, Ryan couldn't blame him. He kept on smiling, though, trying to be friendly, even when... [i]I didn’t know you’d be here either.[/i] Point taken. Ryan didn't play [i]oblivious,[/i] necessarily, just not affected, nodding a little uncertainly while he continued on with the Jon buffer (really, thank fucking God for Jon Walker). Ryan had seen the guy walk away himself, backing off quietly and disappearing into a small sea of softly excitable fans, but only when Brendon's back had turned, and Brendon turned seconds later to look for his shield to be welcomed by nothing. Ryan felt a little bad, really. Maybe leaving Brendon be would be a little more painless - but that was another escapist kid route. He'd grown, honest. [i]I’d say he’s a bit of a liar, really.[/i] Clearly angry, but curious, looking Ryan up and down like that. Ryan was wondering the same but he didn't even have to look very hard; Brendon was more lean muscle than he was tiny and unassuming now, his hair had taken quite a few upgrades, looked more comfortable with himself, less wide-eyed and naïve. It was kind of unsettling, really; where was the bouncy and erratic kid he knew before? This was someone else almost entirely, except for the tiny familiar habits and features he could pick up on.

The point was, he needed to... do something, to make up for what'd happened. It probably wasn't appropriate to try and lay everything out on the table now and apologise, not with so many people around and a song coming up later and - just, [i]all[/i] of the circumstances, but. If it came to it, he was going to say something, maybe not initiate off the bat lest he freak Brendon out. The guy was clearly pissed, he wasn't going to be receptive to anything Ryan said unless he broke the ten year thick ice a little. He watched Brendon visibly relax a moment after inviting him backstage and knew it was probably forced, but he still appreciated it, his smile becoming less unsure of itself and more hopeful by the second. [i]Uh, yeah, sure.[/i] [b]"Great, just..."[/b] Ryan surveyed the room, preparing to lead the way. Looked like Brendon's fans weren't exactly closing in but hovering nearby, waiting for a way in to meet with him, probably. Well. They could do that outside. Ryan raised his hand, floating hesitantly in the air for a moment before resting on Brendon's shoulder, trying to guide him off to the stage door so he wouldn't get pulled away by anyone particularly ambitious. [b]"Looks like a lot of your fans are here tonight, huh? I guess that's probably the norm by now, though."[/b]

As much as he distanced himself from Brendon's life - which took much less effort over time - he did know how popular and successful he'd gotten, was actually endlessly [i]proud[/i] thanks to that residual part of him that hung on to the time that Brendon was his best friend. So his quiet observation was given with a little half-smile, glad for Brendon's sake, until he remembered how Brendon looked from the stage when he first saw him and lost the nerve to look so content. Ryan glanced away, letting his face fall slightly, until finally he was getting them through the door and they were in the dim light of the backstage area, surrounded by people working with equipment and hauling instruments and looking despondent on their phones. Basically, much less threatening than the crowd. He turned to Brendon, shoving his hands in his pockets and searching his face, a little unsettled when he remembered how he'd never been able to easily meet anyone's eyeline when he knew him - and now here he was, actually examining him to catch every difference, wondering whether his eyes had gotten this much darker or if it was just the light. Well. Either way. It was like they were two different people meeting for the first time, or it would be if he didn't feel the unhappy energy from Brendon that no doubt resounded from their history.

He couldn't undo that, of course, but he could talk through it. After a moment Ryan raised one shoulder, turning it towards Brendon as if he were on his way to nudge him but remaining a safe distance apart. [b]"How have you been, anyway? You look so [i]different.[/i] Like someone else."[/b] He meant this a little deeper than surface level appearances, but didn't bother saying so. In ten years he couldn't recognize the new Brendon's changing emotions, or see exactly what he was thinking, or predict what he was going to say next, all of which he could do with ease before. That was all different to him, made him feel like he wasn't talking to Brendon. Maybe a twin, who he had to relearn all about. Bizarre.