In a completely different and oddly similar way, Brendon’s life revolves around his father, too. His entire job description involved carrying out exactly what he told him to, and it wasn’t like there were many other career options for an angel in heaven even if they were allowed or capable of taking them. None of this was a bad thing for the throes of angels, of course- they were loyal and subservient to their Father, who treated them with general benevolence, though sometimes more of an indifference. How a master would view a servant- and that was fitting, because that was their arrangement. Brendon wasn’t exactly suffering- that just didn’t happen in heaven- but when he really thought about it, which was rare, he was too busy to stop and consider his environment and where he would spend the rest of eternity, the started to feel entrapped, restless, like a smaller set of angel wings was fluttering furiously in the cage of his heart, desperate to break free. The concept itself felt like a sin, and he immediately came before his Father and confessed feelings of entrapment, boredom, even bitterness towards his life in [i]heaven.[/i] He had reprimanded himself for being selfish and self-centred and disrespectful and he swiftly repented, swearing he’d never feel like that again and going back to his duty. Of course, it was easier to say than to do, and every time he went back, letting his wings droop and drag on the ground as a show of subservience, and prayed for forgiveness.

No matter how many times he went back, returning thoughts just seemed to get worse. Ryan’s situation was, again, oddly and eerily similar, though literal worlds apart at the same time. Ryan, from what Brendon knew (which was everything), had a difficult upbringing and an odd family, if his alcoholic and detached father could even count as one. His mother left when he was just an infant and he hadn’t seen her since. Brendon didn’t have a mother either, funnily enough- he hadn’t actually thought about that before now. God, though, was father and mother and brother to them all, so he supposed that was too different a circumstance to compare. Ryan’s father had many flaws, flaws that God apparently didn’t have, but as for being detached and distant, Brendon silently thought about how his Father presented himself, high above his children, above criticism, distant and commanding and severe unless someone bowed their head in prayer. Only then would he take on some of his famed patience and benevolence, when shown the utmost respect and surrendered to completely. Brendon thought about Ryan’s dad, how he’d tried in the beginning, but things had slowly gone downhill until Ryan didn’t have much of a father at all. He wasn’t religious, Brendon knew that- he wondered if converting was on the agenda, then realised he should probably focus on saving his life before he started preaching God’s message all Gabriel-like.

He arrived on Ryan’s doorstep, his head swimming with thoughts about their contrasting and oddly alike situations, trying to dispel the correlation between Ryan’s dad’s downfall and God’s recent shortness of temper from his mind. Brendon felt something odd- a twinge of worry, maybe, that was the word- and he felt his stomach turn over, unused to even the slightest negative emotion, only capable of experiencing neutral or positive ones up in heaven. The slightest thing on earth that caused him pain or suffering felt like a stab in the chest rather than a pinprick, and he wasn’t looking forward to potentially experiencing more of that. He knocked on the door after he contained himself, relaxing his shoulders even though they felt weird without his wings. As soon as Ryan appeared there where the door had been, he felt a surge of affection for not him, but for God; he really had done something different with this one, and Brendon was enamoured with all things aesthetically beautiful. This was next-level for earth, this was striking. He stated obviously, forgetting or just not knowing to experience embarrassment or sheepishness, just blatantly admired him, the line of his jaw, the rich colour of his eyes, the slight curls of his chestnut hair. Brendon’s eyes followed the curve of his mouth and he was still smiling, somewhat taken aback.

Fully distracted, it took him a moment to notice Ryan’s hand held out in front of him, and it took him even longer to know what to do with it. Quickly running through his mental list of human customs that started like this, he rapidly crossed the ones out that didn’t fit the situation. He wondered whether it would be appropriate to take his hand and press the back of it to his mouth as he’d heard of humans doing before when they greeted someone of importance. Ryan was important to him, now, sure, but maybe not important enough to warrant that kind of greeting. He landed unsurely on a handshake, extending his own hand and grasping Ryan’s as firmly as he could. As he did, he looked up curiously to watch and see how his posture changed. Stress in his muscles seemed to melt away as he visibly relaxed. He looked unsettled by the sudden sensation, but Brendon just offered a knowing, mysterious and encouraging smile, mentally noting that frequent contact would probably be good for him. Brendon, angels in general, had the strange and useful ability to calm people down by just being close, relax them completely with the lightest brush of contact. They both dropped their arms back down to their sides and then Brendon delivered his earnest compliment- well. It was more of a statement, coming from an angel, and he wasn’t aware enough to realise he just sounded like an overenthusiastic preacher or a middle-aged religious woman paying compliments to the nice young man who held the door open for her.

[i]Um, thank you.[/i] Again, it was more of a statement, so he offered simply a shrug of one shoulder, and then greeted him properly for the first time in like, five minutes of him standing there in the doorway. [i]Ryan. You, too.[/i] Brendon stepped past Ryan through the door and into the apartment- it was small, exactly what he expected, but kept in relative good condition considering everything going wrong for Ryan. He figured it was his way of trying to pretend his life was somewhat together. [i]Feel free to look around.[/i] Brendon nodded, already doing so, moving to the table and noting the things strewn across it, keys, wallet, et cetera; Ryan was clearly too busy to be [i]that[/i] tidy, just clean. Maybe it was a habit picked up from when he was a little younger and he was self-assigned the task of cleaning the entire house. Brendon purses his lips, considering. [i]I'm, uh, not home that often, so you don't have to worry about it being crowded around here. I work a lot.[/i] And yet, he still had time to keep this whole place clean- or maybe he just didn’t interact with anything enough for it to become untidy. He turned around to face his new roommate. [b]”Where do you work?”[/b] He already knew that, but. It seemed the reasonable way to respond.

[i]Actually - that's why I needed a roommate: I'm not working as often anymore, hours got cut. I'll be honest with you, I kind of owe the landlady a lot right now.[/i] Brendon ran a hand thoughtfully through his hair, pushing it back out of his face and pretending that he was thinking about that predicament, looking sympathetic. But then he shrugged, smiled a little. [b]”Don’t worry, I’ll have enough money to help with that.”[/b] Hopefully that gave him some kind of peace of mind, or whatever- truth was, Brendon had that all covered from the start. He just hoped Ryan would actually believe him. Ryan didn’t seem to listen at first- he had laughed, but not out of humour, and looked away, zoning out for a few seconds. Worried he was stressing himself out or whatever, Brendon ignored the harsh feeling that resonated through his body and spoke up again. [b]”Just tell me how much you need.”[/b] 

[i]So, anyway, that's why it's important that if you move in here you can... hold up your end of the deal, and all.[/i] Nodding understandingly, hoping his comments from before were reassuring enough, he followed Ryan’s gesture to sit down on a slightly unsteady chair and sat down gracefully, pushing his chair back from the table so he could cross his leg over his knee elegantly, composing himself in this unusual environment. He tilted his head back to gaze around the room, his lips slightly parted, his expression neutral and earnest before he watched Ryan start to toy with his keys. [i]Do you have a job? Tell me about yourself.[/i] [b]”Well, I-“[/b][i]Oh, um- do you want water, or... coffee?[/i] He waited for more options, but none came, and he wasn’t really surprised, just giggled a little and rested his elbow on the armrest and his chin in his hand, regarding Ryan with a gentle amusement. [b]”No, Ry, I think I’m okay.”[/b] Shit, maybe he wasn’t supposed to know that he liked to go by that. Shit, he had forgotten to make up his life story and occupation. For a moment he looked distant, racking his brain. [b]”Uh, I- model. Yeah.”[/b]