Brendon would have never in a million years pinned Ryan as being possessive in anyway. He tried not to care or notice, but he was unfortunately around his guitarist and several of his admittedly long string of girlfriends enough to know that, in a typical relationship, Ryan didn’t have a possessive bone in his body, he was relatively relaxed about it. Brendon often thought back to their conversation on the night of Ryan’s birthday party- how Keltie looked at him more like a rare caged bird than a human, and how the awe that she and other girlfriends regarded him with made him feel better about himself. Brendon, on the other hand, saw him for what he was- when he’d hated Ryan the entire time he’d known him, it was hard to look at him through the rose-coloured glasses that everyone else seemed to. He was childish, selfish, insecure and yet somehow had an ego more than capable of being bruised, and he was spiteful, having been the one who had started this whole mutual hatred thing in the first place. Ryan was human, not some fascinating zoo animal, and maybe because Ryan knew that Brendon wasn’t completely smitten with him was why he was so possessive and intense.

Ryan thought he didn’t notice- he did. But it wasn’t like he really minded. The bruises pressed and bitten across his collarbones, neck and throat could be covered with makeup- luckily they always had it on hand for shows- and as for Ryan leering at anyone who even dared look Brendon’s way, clearly interested, Brendon shrugged that off, to. For the better part of a month, he’d been fine with their- unspoken arrangement, whatever. Everything was the same- they still argued viciously, albeit a little less; they just had another way of resolving any issues that arose. He had no desire or intention to be with anyone else in that way. What he and Ryan had going on- he liked to put it down to convenient opportunism, paired with the fact that they were both tragically atttacted to eachother and had been pretty much since they met, even considering the immediate conflict that arose between them. Two relationships existed in parallel- the dominant one, fuelled by mutual hatred, and then a subtextual one they’d only managed to address a month ago, with the failing of Ryan’s relationship with Keltie. Brendon wondered whether Ryan regretted it, wished he’d tried to make it work with Keltie- then he decided he didn’t care.

Eventually, though, he stopped being so readily available, started actively dodging and rejecting any passes that Ryan made at him, at first pretending he didn’t notice and later straight-up denying any propositions Ryan offered his way. It was amusing, really- he tried so hard to seem above it all, shrug it off like it was Brendon’s loss, and yet he tended to disappear more often, sulking somewhere Brendon couldn’t see. He couldn’t see, but he knew. And Ryan couldn’t stay out forever- Brendon, Spencer and Jon would be chilling on the bus and Ryan would walk on, Brendon would look innocently his way as Ryan avoided looking at him, Jon would invite Ryan to hang with them but he’d manage out a sullen ‘okay’ and sit at the edge of the couch as far away from Brendon as possible. Other days, he’d reject the invite entirely and retreat to his bunk at, like, eight pm. Brendon tried desperately not to laugh. The inner arch enemy in him found satisfaction in keeping him hanging like that, clearly bothered and too proud to admit it. At this point, too, he had met someone else one night that the three of them (Ryan naturally not included) had gone out, this guitarist called Ian, and Brendon had been talking about him loudly when they got back to the bus, hoping Ryan was still awake to heat him gush about some other guy.

Soon, though, if was less about making Ryan jealous, more that he actually liked this Ian guy, they hit it off really well, Ian didn’t instantly hate his guts. They weren’t official yet, per say, since it had been such a brief time, but Brendon felt strongly enough to want to bring him back to the tour bus to kind of solidify his presence among them for the time being. They’d picked a bad time, though, apparently, and the bus was empty. Brendon paused in the doorway, and then suggested to Ian that they stay anyway, wait for them to get back. Fast forward again, and they were passing the time as well as the situation allowed. Brendon kind of forgot about Ryan, and the fact that maybe he wouldn’t have gone out with Spencer and Jon, he’d instead be sulking at some cafe and stealing their wifi for as much time as possible before he had to go back. Brendon had no idea what the time was when he heard the tour bus door open, but he registered immediately that it definitely wasn’t going to be Spencer or Jon, it couldn’t be that late and they usually didn’t come back til early morning. The driver had probably gone too, so- it was Ryan. Sighing inwardly, he half-shifted off Ian’s lap and turned, meeting his eyes, a little alarmed even though he knew it was going to be Ryan standing there.

He did not look happy. Brendon bit his lip to hold back a smirk, and to stop himself saying something unwise. [i]Yeah, you fucking can.[/i] Brendon sucked in a breath, a little taken aback by his immediate aggression, and he shifted fully off Ian to sit beside him, one arm wrapped around the back of the couch, hand resting on Ian’s far shoulder, and the other raising to absently stroke through his own hair. [b]”Calm down, Princess,”[/b] He said, mock-soothingly, retracting both his arms to fold loosely across his chest, all relaxed and innocent. He did tense a little when Ryan stepped forwards, kind of apprehensive of how exactly Ryan’s anger would unfold, but quickly relaxed again, keeping an eye on where his hands were buried in his pockets. He glanced at Ian quickly- Ian, who looked incredibly confused and wary, having shifted and moved quickly to fix his disheveled appearance. Ian turned his head and met Brendon’s gaze. Brendon offered him a relaxed shrug, as if to say, it’s okay. I’ll handle this, it’s fine. He’d mentioned Ryan before, but he felt obliged to do introductions- he opened his mouth, but Ryan interrupted before he could speak.

[i]Who is this?[/i] Funny he should ask. Brendon cleared his throat. [b]”Ryan, this is Ian. Ian- this is [i]Ryan.[/i]”[/b] Reminiscent of Brendon’s first meeting with Keltie. Brendon caught Ryan’s eye, hoped he got the reference. Ian seemed to recognise Brendon’s tone of voice and looked at Ryan, openly judgemental, and with recognition. Brendon stood up and took a step closer to Ryan, challenging. He saw Ian stand up too in his peripheral, a pressing his shoulder against Brendon’s from just behind him. [i]It's generally agreed upon that we being our cheap fucks to hotels. It's just more considerate that way, yeah?[/i] Offering only a shrug, Brendon turned his head to look at Ian, who had wrapped an arm around his waist innocently. [b]”Who said anything about cheap?”[/b] He remarked, quirking an eyebrow at Ryan and flashing him a grin. This only earned him Ryan stepping closer again, this time directing veiled threats in Ian’s direction. [i]Feel free to get the hell out. Brendon, we need to talk.[/i] 

Feeling Ian’s grip loosen at his waist, Brendon clicked his tongue, wondering whether he really wanted to have to deal with Ryan being all pissy at him by himself- but what he did know was that their night was ruined anyway, and he didn’t want Ian to be dragged into their messy feud. [i]B, I’ll leave, if-[/i] Brendon looked from Ryan to Ian and then back to Ryan, and then he nodded reluctantly. [b]”Okay, babe, call me.”[/b] He said finally, turning his back smartly towards Ryan as he leaned up to kiss Ian, finding and squeezing his hand apologetically before he stepped back and regarded Ryan, exasperated and apprehensive. Great, now he’d have to deal with this jealous idiot by himself. Ian weaved cautiously past Ryan, not saying a word, and both of them were silent until the door shut on Ian’s way out. Brendon dragged his hands through his messy hair before he stepped back, lifted the hem of his shirt up to wipe his face and then folded his arms across his chest, defensive. [b]”What’s your fuckin’ problem, huh? Can’t stand missing out?”[/b]