This whole situation with Brendon, the [i]Dilemma[/i] that deserved a capital D, was entirely too confusing for Ryan to grasp. He had no idea how it started, and he'd even arguably been the initiator. He was drunk enough for half of it to be a distant, inaccessible memory, and the other half he could recall almost completely except for the fact that it was, how you say, mortifying. All right, the latter half of the night wasn't - actually, Ryan was pretty sure they were on equal terms there, nothing to attack without getting a comeback right quick - but he knew he'd said some things he couldn't take back. He'd talked about Keltie truthfully for once, whereas before he'd always lied about the state of their relationship, and then he was basically complimenting Brendon (as close as it could get to that for them anyway), not to mention all of the kind-of-confessions. Luckily for him, Brendon was surprisingly patient about it all. He'd only snapped at Ryan, like, twice. 

He remembered the kissing, too. The angry blur of them at first, no clue where one ended and the other began, and then Ryan had slowed down, easing it slightly even when Brendon was still fighting to keep the flames ignited. On the surface he felt kind of sick thinking about how he'd acted, because that wasn't what they were, they weren't soft or gentle and it was agreed upon silently, and he'd disrupted the balance for a good few minutes before they did end up sleeping together. Anyway it was all just more factors to the big Dilemma Ryan still hadn't worked out how to resolve (and was just making matters worse by continuing the affair). Every time he thought about the period between the beginning of that night and the end, the least hazy section where he'd slowed down and admitted all of those things to Brendon - and received somewhat positive responses, surprisingly - he felt a dangerous warmth in his chest, something he probably felt for Keltie or anyone from his list of ex-lovers when they were at their 'best,' but not really. This was different, somewhat more profound despite how far from accurate that word could be to describe his and Brendon's relationship.

Ryan tried not to think about how clear the solution of breaking up with his, somewhat longterm but definitely incompatible, girlfriend became after everything with Brendon had started. He tried not to think about how he felt about their new dynamic, pretended that every time they caught the other thinking about the same thing at the exact same moment and made faces at each other didn't make his stomach twist. It was probably just the newness about sharing this, uh, mutually beneficial agreement with someone, that got to him. But it was [i]Brendon.[/i] Every time he caught himself grinning knowingly at him, or making some pass at him under his breath, he remembered that they were supposed to hate one another. That's how it'd all started, and that's how it would always be, because they didn't get along and they never would. The more he dwelled on it, though, when he got too involved and couldn't stop himself, the more he thought that they kind of worked now; something had clicked and he no longer scowled at the sound of Brendon's name or got worked up at his suggestions, etc. He wasn't exactly pleased at those things, either, but there'd been an improvement of sorts.

He comforted himself with the knowledge that just tolerating Brendon maybe thirty percent of the time was nothing to be worried about. Arguments, though fewer and comparatively farther between, still happened with as much viciousness as before when the situation called for it. If he thought Brendon's ideas were stupid or he'd messed up at all, he would still comment on it, all bite and no softness even despite the fact that sometimes his brain mixed that up and made him feel [i]remorse[/i] about it. And, sometimes, if he was having a particularly shitty day, he still took it out on Brendon; whether it was as they normally would through verbal confrontation and frustrated glares or through one of their 'sessions,' it didn't particularly matter. This was all just enough to keep him from driving himself insane with paranoia, worried that the one relationship he was sure he knew all about, the one he was confident in his feelings even if they were hateful and negative, had taken a complete 180. For now, when they still had their bad days, he was comfortable enough.

Regardless, Ryan found himself to be surprisingly possessive - that didn't even happen before, when he was actually dating. People of course sent interested looks in Brendon's direction, sometimes had the confidence to actually flirt with him outright, or they even made it seem like they had some kind of attraction and Ryan was [i]pissed.[/i] He refused to use the word 'jealous,' and they weren't even exclusive, but the thought of Brendon moving on or even staying with this dynamic plus another person on the side, it was all awful. He left as many marks as he could, like a reminder for Brendon or some claim to him for other people, even though he knew Brendon used makeup to hide the bruising kisses and was discreet as often as possible. It was a little dangerous, really, when someone even made it clear they were [i]thinking[/i] of approaching Brendon, and Ryan sent them the most abrasive look of all time. In any case, he successfully hid at least half of that from Brendon, or he thought so.

Ryan noticed Brendon's gradually more distant behavior and, at first, was vaguely suspicious but refused to openly care about it, then began to actually get annoyed by every rejection. It's not like they were... promised, to one another, [i]whatever,[/i] just. Ryan didn't know what was going on, really, but he was too proud to show any sign of upset about any of it, instead opting to start getting the hell away from the bus, from the band in general, more often than he usually would. This tended to mean stealing Wi-Fi from cafés and that was about it, but still. It was away. Anyway - he didn't usually leave for entire nights unless he was being a particularly big baby about the matter, so he had to return [i]eventually[/i], slumping past the rest of the band on his way to go sulk in his bunk or curl up in the lounge facing away from everyone while he tried to eke out some kind of writing or tabs. 

This time he was back by about eight, vaguely suprised about the lights being on from what he could see through the tinted windows; he knew Jon and Spencer were out together, on one of their city exploring ventures they tended to go on whenever tour provided them with particularly interesting places (and he usually joined them, except when he was denied that right by an annoyed drummer and bassist who were sick of his wallowing). The driver was definitely gone; no one was up front. And... he didn't actually know whether Brendon went out. Shit. This could mean they'd end up either fighting or fucking, and, well. Ryan had no idea what terms they were on lately. Maybe neither would happen, something new. Either way, he stepped up onto the bus, hands twisted in his coat pockets apprehensively - and then he turned towards the lounge, all tentative energy instantly gone and replaced by instant, angry alarm bells going off in his head. He wasn't sure how he'd have felt seeing Brendon in this position, on some other guy's lap, wrapped around him and kissing, when they were only enemies-with-no-benefits, but right now he was definitely beyond pissed, and still would outright deny the term 'jealous.'

In any case he froze up, at a loss for what to do with all the sudden vicious feeling he'd adopted, and just stared. [i]Oh, hey, buddy.[/i] Ryan tabled that for a second. He could address the overtly annoying use of 'buddy' and all of Brendon's casualness in a moment. For the time being, despite all his reason and sense (and therefore any chance he could think of something [i]other[/i] than 'Brendon is with [i]someone else[/i]) thrown out the window, he realized that the guy, once Brendon had half-shifted off, bore a vague resemblance to him. Clearly Brendon had a type - or he'd introduced Brendon's type to him. Ryan was almost smug about it, except he couldn't maintain a thought other than, like, 'fuck this' or something akin to that, for longer than a few seconds. It was probably lucky for the guy that Brendon cut him off before the sound of his voice, whatever, sent Ryan spiralling. [i]Can we help you?[/i] Though a second ago he'd been completely speechless and caught off-guard, Ryan's response was immediate. [b]"Yeah, you fucking can,"[/b] he returned, all confrontation with not even a warning stage. 

Ryan moved closer but not totally - he had the impulse to pull Brendon off and away, or something, but that was kind of fucking crazy and he didn't care what the guy thought about that, necessarily, but Brendon would definitely call him on how stupidly possessive he was. Instead he kept his hands safely in his pockets, probably digging holes through the fabric. Better than hurting someone, probably. [b]"Who is this?"[/b] Ryan decided he wasn't gonna yell at some stranger, so. He directed all questions to Brendon instead. [b]"It's generally agreed upon that we being our cheap fucks to hotels. It's just more considerate that way, yeah?"[/b] Actually, screw it, he was definitely gonna yell at some guy. He directed his glare to Brendon's new friend, stepping closer again, confrontational. [b]"Feel free to get the hell out. Brendon, we need to talk."[/b]