It was no secret that Ryan lacked confidence and self-assurance. It had been that way through a very successful run with an incredibly well-known band, so how could he feel better about himself [i]without[/i] the support of hundreds, thousands, millions of people? That was the most bizarre part: once the band split, something he'd initially hated and refused to believe was 'for the best' or even real, the pressure started fading away to be the very best, and thus his subconscious relieved pressure on him. It made sense once he got down to the middle of it. When all he'd been doing for years, since his formative years, even, was focus on criticism and try to work with it constructively, always bettering himself to match the tastes of others, always trying to make a living off of something that he'd originally started just to enjoy doing, it preyed on his psyche. When the band or even the production was judged harshly, he took it to heart, as if he was fully responsible for all downfalls the group had. When they didn't have as many hits as they'd expected or a song he poured his entire being into didn't get as much attention as he thought, it killed his spirit, mentally maimed him.

Ryan wasn't built for it all. Not like, say, Brendon. Maybe that's why they made such a fantastic team; they were opposites, nearly. Brendon was the passionate, lively, charismatic frontman, with a tangible spirit and a presence to light up a room. Ryan was quiet, reserved, standoffish, sticking solely to his side of the stage and often so closed off that it came off as rude or abrasive. Brendon, although he did have his moments where he became anxious and truly overwhelmed with it all, could handle fans finding him on the streets, could handle the bountious amounts of post that reached them when their address was leaked, was confident enough in his abilities to up and start singing in the middle of a crowded mall or something. He knew how to handle people, be it on an individual or large-scale level, and he knew them so well that he got along with just about anyone. It was actually fascinating to see him at work. Here was a multi-talented, musically genius, incredibly young and therefore presumably naïve man, who had the whole world around his finger, could make anything happen with the snap of his fingers because he was either that ambitious or that influential. 

He was born into the lifestyle, had always been ready. While Brendon had moments of debilitating nerves, every waking hour of Ryan's life had become dominated by them. In the beginning he was more exhilerated than anything - he and his friends were going to start a band! Then, hey, his favorite musician ever had contacted them about a record deal! They had their own apartment (even if it was shitty)! They were making an [i]album![/i] And then the public eye came into play, and everything was suddenly far too real for him. His first actual show was the worst and best day of his life simultaneously - and it went downhill from there, for his mental situation anyway. As for the band, they got better and better, because all of the stress and anxiety fueled his perfectionism as much as it dampened his creative spark. It was probably obvious, come to think; he might not have been so shut off to people and shy if he hadn't felt like the world was on his shoulders, and maybe he would have been so much less controlling of the band and what they put out into the world if he didn't feel like everything would be fucked without his masterminding the situation. It was the most fantastic time of his life, definitely his wonder years without a doubt, but behind the scenes, he was in an incredibly dark place.

In a way, the split was a blessing. It lifted a gigantic burden from his shoulders and relieved all the built-up fog that clouded his life. At the time, though, all he did was snap at Brendon as if it was his fault, like he could control them all going in different directions idealistically, as if he wasn't saving Ryan from a very real and massively self-destructive breakdown that had been in the works for a long time. He couldn't see that Brendon's idea was good for all of them... at first. Over time he became resigned to the thought that maybe this thing he'd poured his heart and soul into was hurting him, sort of his own Frankenstein monster - and he was about as afraid of this ever-growing monster, too. He wasn't angry at Brendon anymore, but at the people who came to audition who clearly understood what they were getting into potentially, who would be able to handle the fame and the responsibility and the troubles that came with all of this. He was jealous that he couldn't do it himself, that he couldn't keep being on stage and in creative control with the love of his life forever all because of his own neuroses.

After a long time of screwing around being sad that the best/worst part of his life had officially ended, moping about that he couldn't do what he was used to anymore, Ryan knew he had to find an outlet again. Naturally he went to Jon who he'd bonded over about new music before, when the band was close to splitting and they had already written half a record and made the music for it. They continued their work and an album was out surprisingly fast for someone in his headspace - or maybe not so surprising. After all, there were certainly many expecting fans waiting on him (which he was grateful for, considering he'd anticipated people to abandon him as quickly as his initial success had picked up), but no producers were breathing down his back to get something amazing and showstopping out as fast as possible. No one was waiting expectantly for singles to drop just so they could write scathing reviews, throw 'constructive' language over what was clearly just a critical piece on his work. Even more than all of that, no one had heard any of this before, and no one was trying to spoonfeed him a genre to work in. He had complete freedom, and almost total support for whatever was to come.

That album did not take off with light speed like his first ever, but it didn't come close to failing or even doing poorly. Despite this, the band behind it just... never continued, went on indefinite hiatus. It wasn't the fact that it hadn't been a Panic!-level success, but he knew he didn't want to be part of a group anymore. Ryan's goal to just put something out and be heard was met and exceeded, and it fueled his desire to start working again - though, this time, it was a much more personal venture, excluding Jon and requiring weeks of introspection. He rarely released his solo work, and if he did, it was shabby tracks on SoundCloud (which eventually became less and less habitual, then was deleted entirely), or snippets on Instagram. He sort of fell off the face of the Earth, actually, spending time in his own head and workspace, or with Brendon when he had time off. On occasion they still got to work together and functioned just as well, and truthfully, Ryan owed a lot of the fact that he even continued focusing on music to Brendon. Even if his and Jon's band had made him realize what he really wanted to do, it wasn't motivation enough. Moreso than Brendon, though, Ryan had a new friend: Z.

She'd taken a daily role as his best friend, whereas Brendon had tours to go on and Spencer and him had been growing distant for a very long time and Jon was, well, growing up, too busy for all of this. Z had been making music for about as long but was one of the best he'd ever seen, had mastered her craft and was skilled beyond her years, was more enthused than any creator Ryan had met in his life - arguably even his own husband, who had a hired team to care about all of the things she still cared about. It was probably why Ryan got on with her so well. She revived the ambition he had when he was younger, the ambition that got his first band known by one of the most famous creators in his genre, the ambition that built the foundation for his ultra-successful ex-band. But she was also genuine, down-to-earth, utterly charming, the kind of person he actually wanted to be around constantly, just like his original bandmates (and he'd fooled himself into thinking that was a once-in-a-lifetime thing). She inspired him even more than his own husband to keep creating, keep making, and a large part of that was stringing him along to her shows.

People called it something like abusing a power, as if she really only wanted him there because he had a niche crowd that followed his every move. It was definitely not that - had he not come along she'd have just as many people around, because her career was truly succesful as well, and she'd garnered such a large group of equally taented friends that Ryan was pretty easily replaceable. Honestly, the idea of playing live again even though it'd only been a handful of years terrified him. He had gotten better at his craft on his own, had honed lyric-writing (though that wouldn't come into play here anyway) and sharpened his voice, made a mistake about once in a blue moon on his guitar and could improvise as if he'd tabbed out the song beforehand. He was even better than the Ryan people knew. But the scary part was what if maybe he was fooling himself into thinking that, what if he'd actually gotten worse, what if he looked too different now or acted stupidly in front of everyone, what if no one even fucking came. It was harder to let all of that get to his head, though, when he knew in the forefront of his mind that he was doing it all for Z, and, better yet, she'd be up there onstage with him. He wasn't going to be alone, and he trusted her and her gifts so, so much.

Anyway. Apparently it worked out, because the next time she had a show planned, he was invited along again - with short notice. Having a long resume of working well under pressure, though, Ryan panicked in silence, learning her songs (or re-learning in some cases) quickly, perfecting every single tiny note and figuring out how to twist his voice this way and that, which parts he couldn't quite make the right sound and finding a way around it. He picked out outfits, found one that wouldn't conflict so much with Z and her setup and the theme, one that he wouldn't look too ridiculously goofy in and didn't magically uglify him. Even so, when he'd had it picked out an entire week beforehand, he was still freaking out in his and Brendon's room, staring in the mirror and adjusting everything and rethinking every choice he'd ever made. It wasn't just how he looked - though he definitely wasn't pleased with it, still - it was the fact that people would be there, maybe, and there might be pictures, and what if he'd have to talk to people, what if they asked the wrong thing, what if, what if, what if. It was all very unnerving when, these days, he hardly went out unless it was absolutely necessary.

But he couldn't hide here forever. Brendon was probably worrying. Ryan made his way out of the room a little sheepishly, going to the main room and still tugging his sleeves down self-consciously before he lifted his head and realized Brendon was staring dumbfoundedly. Yeah, yeah, shut up, he'd married the most ridiculous man ever. Ryan let his arms drop to his sides and looked slightly embarrassed, tilting his head up to the ceiling while Brendon shifted about to come to him. [i]Fuck.[/i] Okay, so maybe it wasn't so bad. But this was Brendon. He'd probably lose his mind over Ryan wearing some white T-shirt that comes in a Wal-Mart 4-pack. [i]Oh man, you’re fuckin’ gorgeous.[/i] [b]"I feel stupid,"[/b] Ryan mumbled compulsively, but he couldn't help smiling back at Brendon's contagious grin, letting himself lean into him while he wrapped himself around Ryan. In turn, Ryan let his hands slip into Brendon's back pockets, pulling him close as they barely kissed. 

[i]You look so good.[/i] [b]"We're married. You have to say that. It's, like, the law. Doesn't even need to be true."[/b] But Ryan was cracking up, so clearly he was flattered, his mortifications from moments previous dying out. He shut his eyes serenely when Brendon's hand curled around his jaw, feeling so at peace he'd rather be here than at the ultimate stress show (even though he knew that last time it was 10,000x better than he'd anticipated). [i]We’re running late, but... I'd say let’s just stay home, but I want to hear and see you be wonderful. [/i]God, [i]you’re so handsome.[/i] Ryan's eyes rolled to the ceiling again and he detached from Brendon, backing away with a stupid grin on his face. [b]"Shut [i]up,[/i] I love you,"[/b] he said, exasperated, running a hand through his hair and feeling the pressure melt away. [b]"You should've have your expectations so high. It's been a minute since I performed, you know."[/b]