Brendon had been cocky, mostly just to rile Ryan up further- but when all he heard was a geniunely harsh laugh, like the idea of Brendon being [i]attractive[/i], as he was implying, was a joke, Brendon’s eyes narrowed as he stared at Ryan’s reflection in the mirror, wondering how the hell he hoped to pass off this feigned disdain as genuine when moments ago he’d been fuming because Brendon was with [i]some other guy.[/i] He was unbelievable, and Brendon was beginning to recall all the reasons he stopped being so up for getting into bed with Ryan at a moment’s notice. [i]Yeah, getting sick of it, too.[/i] Though he was expecting some kind of offhand, dismissive comment, that was a little too far for Brendon’s liking, and it was his turn to laugh, confident after the briefest scowl took over his surprisingly placid expression. He turned around, and when he did, his face was written with distaste and vague amusement at how bad a liar Ryan was. [b]”Oh, really?”[/b] He challenged, one eyebrow arching. [b]”Can I ask, Ryan, what were your plans, assuming you and I would be alone on the bus?”[/b]

[i]Shut up.[/i] Brendon did, not out of submissiveness or giving in, more because Ryan was exhausting him by now, his endless, fucked up game where sometimes he’d brush past Brendon a little too gently and then go white as a sheet, he’d curl a hand around his jaw and trace the corner of his mouth with his thumb delicately and then flinch away as if he’d been burnt, looking guilty, as if he’d done something wrong, disgusting. Their relationship consisted solely of fights and then sleeping together not to resolve those fights, but to spend the angry energy and convert it into something else. It meant they didn’t throttle eachother, but- even beforehand, they didn’t. They could have gone on just fine and released that tension by getting into shouting matches, but no, neither of them could help themselves, and so here they were, still spiteful towards eachother only now they knew what the other looked like naked. Funny how that changed their relationship completely and yet somehow, it was exactly the same. Brendon was sick and tired of feeling sub-par, like he was there for Ryan’s convenience and pleasure only while it mattered to him and afterwards, Ryan would remember that, wait, we hate eachother, and get up and leave. To be fair, Brendon never protested, in fact, turned to offence to defend his own fragile reaction to such abandonments by spitting out venemous parting comments. Upon reflection, Brendon decided that things had gotten worse.

Brendon would’ve even retired to his own bunk, or something, shut Ryan out until he stopped having a tantrum, like a toddler who didn’t want to share a toy- but he knew Ryan probably wouldn’t leave him alone. [i]That’s[/i] different, [i]it’s not like we have anywhere[/i] else- Brendon snorted, as if to try and cut him off, but Ryan was trailing off anyway, as if struck by a sudden thought that made his comment less important. He noted the present tense that Ryan used- ‘its not like we [i]have[/i] anywhere else- and 
pursed his lips cynically, tipping his hand back slightly and drawing his hands from the top of his head through his hair and down his face, before crossing his arms tightly across his chest- he didn’t know what else to do with them, feeling awkward and under scrutiny even if he knew that it was Ryan being the child, being unreasonable, making a scene because he didn’t get what he wanted. His thoughts drifted to Ian- who was a nice guy, genuine, sweet, funny, [i]didn’t[/i] hate his guts and put him down at every opportunity. Ian, who Ryan had ordered out, probably waiting for a message from Brendon to check he was still living. With purposeful brazenness, he pulled his phone out of his jean pockets and checked his notifications- yeah, a text from Ian; [i]Have you defeated the evil?[/i] Brendon smiled, made a mental note to reply when he actually had defeated the evil, and shoved his phone back out of sight. 

When he looked up, Ryan looked compelled by something, and this was after Brendon had let himself be vulnerable for a few fleeting moments by expressing visible disappointment from the idea that Ryan didn’t care about him. Instantly he regretted saying anything- Ryan wouldn’t feel any sympathy or compassion. If anything, it would be pity, and it wouldn’t even be geniune. Brendon started dejectedly back at the ground, wishing he’d gone out with Spencer and Jon. He knew he’d be having this conversation with Ryan anyway, but- he was big on procrastination. [i]I do care about you.[/i] Brendon looked up, betraying vague surprise that instantly morphed into visible cynicism in real time. Yeah, right. Brendon was staring at Ryan’s feet when he saw him move forward, and then he looked up warily, though surprised himself by not moving back. [i]I have a problem when you’re with other guys because I care.[/i] Well, forgive Brendon for finding that hard to believe. [b]”You sure you’re not just worried they won’t save a piece for you?”[/b] He retorted, his tone bitter and barbed and undercut with vulnerability he desperately tried to hide.

[i]I [/i]want [i]there to be... I don’t want there to be anyone else.[/i] All very sweet, whatever, but Brendon really was having a hard time not thinking that every word that passed his lips was a malicious lie. [b]”Funny how it took you seeing me making out with some other guy to even say that to me,”[/b] Brendon murmured, looking past Ryan and at the wall, zoning out for a second. He was tired. Suddenly, his bunk seemed very inviting again. [b]”You’ve actually [i]met[/i] Ian before. I introduced him. I hung off his arm and he touched my waist and you didn’t even notice because you don’t fucking care if there’s anything emotional going on, as long he doesn’t take your fucking fuck buddy away from you, it’s [i]fine.”[/i][/b] His tone was cold and pained, because honestly that’s what he felt like- disposable, throw-away entertainment, just Ryan passing the time before he found the next girlfriend who idolised him like some kind of minor diety. Brendon knew better than they did, knew they Ryan was human and made of blood and bone and bad decisions. Lots of them. [i]I[/i] do [i]care about you.[/i] Yeah, Brendon thought. You said.

[i]This isn’t just... fucking, okay? It’s not that.[/i] What [i]was it,[/i] then? it certainly wasn’t affection or fondness. The angry bruises on Brendon’s neck and collarbones got that message across clear enough for him. [b]”Yes, it is,”[/b] Brendon corrected after a pause, wondering what the hell Ryan’s thought process even was at this point. [b]”Because we don’t do anything else but that.”[/b] [i]I get freaked out and I make it seem like I think that, whatever, but I don’t, that’s not what this is to me.[/i] Understatement of the century. Brendon decided to voice his thoughts from earlier. [b]”What is it to you, then, Ryan? I’m all ears. Got all night. You ruined my original plans.”[/b] he backed up where he stood and collapsed back onto the couch, exhausted, though he was still watching Ryan attentively. [i]When you let me stay, that night. That morning, even. That meant everything. I'm never going to- not care.[/i]

Brendon said nothing, was just inwardly bitter about how Ryan expected him to believe all this bullshit when his behaviour spoke so much loudly than this half-assed attempt at keeping hold of his favourite fuck. He glared at him from under his eyelashes, almost unwilling to look at him unobscured. [i]So don't say I don't care about you, or any of this bullshit about it all blending together, because you're wrong.[/i] What a compelling speech. Brendon’s skin was itching and he was still convinced that this was all some manipulative ploy to convince Brendon to crawl back into bed with him. He was fed up of being lead on. [b]”Moving fucking speech, but forgive me for not believing you. Why the fuck should I not think you’re just doing this to do your permanent hard-on a favour? Speaking of which, will you leave me alone in return for me sucking your dick? ‘Cause that’s clearly all you want.”[/b] He tried to sound scornful, but there was no bite. He’d lost the energy to put up a real fight.