As Brendon slowly came to, the light from the blinds they’d not thought to shut streaming through the window dragging him kicking and screaming into consciousness, it initially took him some time to figure out exactly where he was. He registered he was in a bed, it wasn’t his bunk, and it was too big to be his own bed. For a few moments as he struggled to get used to the light, he wondered whether it was somebody else’s bed, but he didn’t remember going out last night, didn’t remember meeting anybody- and usually he did. He’d always forget the night and remember the people. Brendon sighed and turned over, burying his face into the rough pillowcase and inhaling slowly, willing himself to go back to sleep after he decided that where he was and who or who he wasn’t with wasn’t really important. Unfortunately, he was awake now it was light, and he couldn’t sleep unless there was total darkness. To achieve that, he’d have to stand up and cross the room to close the blinds, and by then he’d be up and there’s be no point going back to bed. Mulling this over in his head, he forgot to care that he had no idea where he was, and didn’t notice that he wasn’t alone.

He wasn’t alone. Brendon felt the presence of somebody beside him, and apprehensively turned his head to the side where it was shoved into the pillow, wincing to try and shield himself from the knowledge of who it was that was in bed next to him. Brendon blinked open his eyes reluctantly and saw- an arm, a side, a waist. Whoever it was, they were sat up and leaning against the headboard, a pillow shoved between their back and the wood to prop them up. Remarkably calm for such a disorientating situation coupled with a background, full headache, Brendon slowly let his gaze travel up from the person’s waist, to their arms, shoulders, neck. He registered the fresh bruises splashed sparsely on his skin and suddenly was hit with a rush of memory- making those marks himself on somebody he actually didn’t really want to associate with. Brendon had a sick feeling in his stomach that he already knew where he was, and who he was with- he just didn’t want to admit it to himself, didn’t want it all to be real, didn’t want anyone being able to ever say that happened.

But it did, and Ryan was sat next to him in the unsteady bed of Brendon’s hotel room, and all he could do was internally groan, frozen watching Ryan calibrate himself. His hair was messy and Brendon watched as he ran a hand through it, stayed still as Ryan appeared to reach to his side’s dresser and pick up his phone, stare at it for a few seconds before he shifted away and from the headboard and half-turned away from Brendon. He would have been offended, but a) Ryan didn’t know he was awake, presumably, and b) it meant he could see the red scratches decorating his back, from his shoulder blades down to just above his waistline. Brendon’s fists curled and his fingers twitched as he tried to suppress memories of the exact circumstances in which Brendon gave him those scratches. He couldn’t tear his eyes away, though, as Ryan’s muscles stretched and shifted under his skin, pulling it taut as he seemed to stretch, sigh, prepare himself for- something. Brendon still had half of his face shoved in a pillow and one eye on Ryan, so he saw him on his phone, dialling a number, even from this angle. He waited until the first ring to finally decide that he should sit up and let his consciousness be known.

Even then, though, he waited, counting the rings and clicking his tongue when whoever Ryan was trying to call went to voicemail. After watching Ryan curse and go to try again, he finally shifted over, moving delicately to trace a hand barely along the scratches on Ryan’s back, trailing up to his shoulder. He then pressed his chest against Ryan’s back and dug both of his hands mildly into his hips, looking over his shoulder at his phone. [i]Keltie,[/i] read the name, and Brendon smirked, hooking his chin in Ryan’s shoulder and moving his arms to wrap loosely around his waist, palms flat against his skin. It seemed gentle, but there was nothing tender about it- Brendon’s neck and mouth were stinging, his touch more a reminder of what they’d done than any show of affection. [b]”Morning, tightass,”[/b] He chided, speaking into his shoulder, concealing a smug half-smile by burying it against Ryan’s skin. [b]”What are you doing? Feeling a little delicate?”[/b] Brendon punctuated his teasing greeting with a small bite to the join between his collarbones and his neck. [b]”Didn’t forget about me, did you?”[/b]

Brendon remained how he was, limbs wrapped around Ryan and chest pressed against his back, wondering how exactly they’d gone from Ryan turning up on his doorstep and raising his minifridge to them waking up together with bruises and scratches and a plethora of memories and imagesI  they’d probably both be much better off just shutting out and forgetting. Brendon wondered whether they’d just go on as normal, confrontational and cruel and dysfunctional as ever. That would probably be the best idea. Maybe Ryan should have upped and left by now, if they really wanted to change, but from what Brendon could gather, he’d only just woken up himself. Brendon trailed kisses him along his neck to his jaw as Ryan brought his phone to his ear again, having dialed Keltie. [b]”Rude,” [/b]He remarked after a second, pressing a kiss to his shoulder, then the top of his spine. [b]”You wake up and you think about her. Flattering.”[/b] Again, Brendon has no intention of being gentle- he was just tired, having still only just woken up, and he was cold, and Ryan was warm, his skin somehow radiating heat. [b]”Are you gonna tell her you prefer sleeping with the person you hate the most rather than her?”[/b] A pause, and he moved in close to his ear. [b]”Some boyfriend.”[/b]