Usually, when people approached Brendon to try and flirt with him in places such as bars, he would accept the drink and play along for as long as it was entertaining, but politely decline any further interaction- he just didn’t have the time or energy for a serious relationship, and since Brendon hasn’t experienced proper romance in years, all of that had faded into a vague and impossible future, unachievable while he stayed on his current course. Ryan’s advance was no different, a handsome man clearly picking up some kind of cue (or just gambling and being extremely lucky) and trying his luck. Brendon had seen and met many attractive men in his life, and when he first turned his head to see who he had the honour of speaking to, it wasn’t like he was swept away. At first glance, he looked young, and Brendon squinted a little (he wasn’t wearing his contacts) to study him a little closer, only then realising from his height and finer details that he was probably maybe a year, a couple of years older. They were around the same age, and get this guy looked so annoying worldly-wise, like he’d seen everything. This both made Brendon envious and endlessly curious, so he shifted his body round to face Ryan and decided after a few beats of looking him quickly up and down and registering his face to memory that he was- gorgeous, in some boyish, semi-uncertain way, not arrogant, but not nervous or shy either. He was tall, wonderfully tall (though everyone was when you were Brendon’s stature), not muscular but defined enough for Brendon to be impressed, with broad shoulders and long legs and Brendon found himself to be more interested by the second.

And, so, fooled by his unconventional, untouchable presence and his melty honey-gold eyes, Brendon, against his better judgement, decided that this vaguely familiar looking man was worth waiting around for, especially if he got a free drink or two. It wasn’t like it would go any further. Brendon’s unannounced rule was unbiased no matter how attractive or interesting somebody was- he simply wasn’t in a place where he could keep up with that kind of relationship. Hell, he didn’t have time to even see his friends. However, Brendon semi-lived in the moment, willing to waste away his evening with this gorgeous stranger, and go home later and fantasise about how they’d date and fall in love if only Brendon was in the right place. What he didn’t know was that Ryan was thinking the same thing, jumping the gun and paving out their unlikely romance before they’d even learned eachother’s second names- and another think he hasn’t quite clicked on was that he was speaking with- no, flirting with- Ryan Ready, frontman of an extremely famous, like, crazy famous band. He would’ve been embarrassed that he didn’t recognise him without being prompted (Brendon’s music taste was often strange or niche, so he didn’t follow the Young Veins and only saw Ryan the odd time on talk shows or heard him talking on the radio), but, really. It was Ryan who should be embarrassed. It wasn’t like Brendon had his head buried in the hypothetical sand of current pop culture.

So, he wasn’t as dumbfounded or floored, or freaking out, as he imagined Ryan expected. As such, he responded simply, only betraying that he was impressed by his success, if a little bitter because here was one of those people, those stupid famous people who probably had no more talent than him but they were up there and he was... Down here, in this admittedly shitty bar. Suddenly, his biggest claim to fame was catching the eye of Ryan. Brendon frowned down at his whiskey briefly, but then he remembered that he should be flattered, and sunk easily into their relatively relaxed back-and-forth flirting. A little of it would do nobody any harm. [i]No problem at all.[/i] Brendon’s eyebrow quirked in an instant, betraying thoughts he didn’t make known. Yeah, I bet it isn’t a problem for you, he thought, but he was smiling, because Ryan Ready wasn’t kidding about wanting to take him out for dinner. This really didn’t happen to him every day, he swore- most days he’d finish the one drink he allowed himself, two if he was feeling particularly careless and too apathetic to care about the cobwebs and crickets chirping in his bank account, and then go home, binge watch some shit tv show and go to bed to start early again in the morning. Just the thought made him shudder- how he’d probably be doing the same thing every day for a very, very long time. Lack of variation drove him mad. [b]”I mean, I’m not easy. Y’gotta, like, chauffeur me. Court me, all traditional. I have religious parents, so...”[/b]

Wow, now he was talking family with Ryan Ready, infamous for his father tragic childhood and young adulthood. Even Brendon knew that, from snippets of articles and casual gossip. He pursed his lips, took another sip from his glass- he was trying to suppress a charmed smile as Ryan mirrored his actions by taking a sip of his own whiskey and flashed him an oddly alluring half-smile. [i]Hey, I’ve got all night.[/i] Interesting, but Brendon did not, and he had to constantly remind himself that before the evening took an unexpected turn. [i]Order as much as you want.[/i] Brendon laughed, gentle, and planted one elbow on the wood, propping his head up with his hand and tilting it to the side with a smile, like an adoring puppy. Unlawful locks of hair sprung out of place over his eyes, but he just let them remain. [b]”Don’t make promises you can’t keep,”[/b] Brendon advised, nodding solemnly as if this was was undoubtedly the wisest insight anybody had ever given Ryan in his entire life. [b]”If you won’t buy me the whole bar, I don’t wanna know.”[/b] Wow. Excellent flirting, Brendon. You just sound like a textbook gold digger. Then again... Maybe he was. Brendon had to admit, having everything bought for you did sound like the dream. 

[i]Oh, Brendon, trust me, it’d be nice.[/i] His name from Ryan’s mouth sounded so different, he said it in a low, careful voice, clearly not wanting to mess it up like so many others did even after years of knowing him. He’d given up correcting even the regular clients at the salon who still insisted on calling him Brandon. [b]”It can be arranged,”[/b] He batted back in his direction, all casual, like a cat playing with a ball of string that it didn’t really want to keep, but he didn’t want it to roll too far away, either. Maybe it was unfair of him. Maybe he was leading him on, somehow. Brendon shut himself up before that thought process went too far off the rails. [i]But since you aren't a serious fan, I could definitely convert you with some private shows, how about that?[/i] His eyes raised from studying the numerous rings adorning Ryan’s fingers and he broke into a wide smile, exposing his bright teeth as the corners of his mouth and his eyes crinkled up, somehow his mood uplifted just by that ridiculous offer. Ryan had met him under, like, ten minutes ago, and Brendon’s every sense told him that he was being serious. This was too good. [b]”Sounds good, too. How private are we talking?”[/b]

[i]What about you?[/i] Oh, no. This was where it all got real- he knew he should be fair and shut this down, but he was finding it difficult to even tear his eyes away from Ryan for too long. It wouldn’t hurt. [i]What do you do?[/i] Wasn’t like it was very impressive, either- imagine revealing to somebody who has your dream job that you’re something lowly and insignificant. Uncomfortable for the first time, he shrugged one shoulder to brush it off. Wasn’t like he’d ever see Ryan again, anyway. [b]”I’m a stylist,”[/b] He settled on eventually, avoiding Ryan’s eyes for a split second. [b]”I make people look pretty, and, as you can see from my example- me- I do an alright fuckin’ job.”[/b]