Ryan was more than a little angry with his label for organizing this stupid 'reunion tour.' He wasn't aware of the fact that his band's name was being tagged onto [i]Brendon's[/i] headlining tour, just that he was going to be an accompanying band for some probably overrated main act, and now he couldn't even pretend that the band was shit. It was his, technically. He still got royalties to prove it. Ryan was notified only [i]after[/i] agreeing to join a list of "associated musical groups," which, as it turned out, was barely associated soundwise and must have been orchestrated by some bastard who wanted to see him suffer around his old bandmates. All right - maybe that wasn't the case and it was someone well-meaning who really did think that he carried a hint of the old band's sound, or maybe they thought that tickets would sell more if the dramatically split band appeared to be 'reuniting,' but either way Ryan wasn't one to give the benefit of the doubt so easily. 

As soon as he learned that what was now essentially Brendon's group was the headliner, he was fuming, trying to break the contract although he knew deep down that part of him was... excited, really, to see old friends. Spence, he'd barely spoken to since the split. Brendon he'd... honestly cut off completely. Not totally intentionally. It was just hard for them, still, to hold 'normal' and civil conversations, so texting back and forth was out of the question, and even if he tried to do that all he could do was wish that he was physically with Brendon. The issue in that was the fact that both of them were so tied to their individual careers that a potentially doomed relationship wasn't worth quitting over, and despite any sacrifices he could think of making in an effort to hold it together, Ryan figured they probably wouldn't last anyway. So he didn't reach out much, other than meager plans to try and reconnect, specifically formulated so that the chances they'd actually meet each other again were slim. See: 'hey, are you going to this Halloween party across the country? Oh, sucks, I'll see you next year.' Or, 'hey, where are you going to be on Christmas? Oh, in Japan? Cool, maybe another time.' And Brendon's tour dates were readily available online. Ryan did want to stay his friend, really, but the concept of actively doing friendshippy things was daunting.

Brendon was, of course, complicated from the start, so it made sense that they'd ended up that way. Spencer, though, was more of a question mark. Ryan had no idea why the band splitting meant that something was driven between them, too. Maybe Spencer had just grown sick of the new face he'd seen on his childhood best friend, the unfriendly one that lashed out at the one guy who genuinely saved their band. Or maybe he'd just picked sides and didn't want to seem disloyal to Brendon. Either way, Ryan was, again, not doing his part to keep up, wishing Spencer happy birthday and congrats on the new girlfriend and hey, listened to your new album, it's fantastic, but not asking anything deep or personal or invasive in the way only best friends could be. Ryan supposed Jon had sort of taken his place, though that sounded sort of juvenile. Realistically he knew if all four of them reconnected they'd naturally fall back into step in twenty minutes because it wasn't necessarily just irreconcilable personality differences that were to blame for the breakup (though with Ryan and Brendon it played a huged part), it was mainly the creative directions. They still got along, always did.

Anyway. It was the first night of the tour. Two other bands Ryan had barely even heard of before started off the set, playing short songs in short sets, more of a warm-up to Jon and Ryan's new band's actual opening, and Ryan swore in all of his time with his first band they'd never been so well-received. Then again, he'd never done something this coordinated before, at least not on this scale - maybe at festivals, but even then it wasn't great. He knew, really, that it was the big-name here they were excited for, and maybe the fact that two of his band's members used to be part of said big-name and that was apparently very juicy drama, but still. While he played their set, he could pretend it was the fun vacation-y twist to the sound and the turbulent instrumental that sent the crowd cheering, made people sing along with extra enthusiasm.

So far he'd only gotten to really say a passing 'hi' to the other bands, have some short conversations with their less busy members, but their headliner had been so swamped that he barely saw Brendon. Actually, all Ryan could fit in was a small nod and a probably too distant 'hey' while he'd been in conversation with a producer. Had he been brave he probably would've pulled him aside for proper conversation, but even seeing him - it hadn't even been that long but he looked different, more sure of himself, comfortable in his new lineup and clearly thriving. The band was taking on this new era, suits and bowties and suspenders and all, and Brendon just. So easily brought it to life. Honestly Ryan thought he'd be unaffected by their affair at this point, more driven to the hateful start of their relationship, but seeing him again he couldn't even remember his initial dislike, how it felt. It was like Seattle all over, just this time it was after the tiniest glimpse of him, and Ryan felt stupid, weak. Maybe it wasn't too late to fake his death and make Jon be frontman.

In any case, Ryan was forced to watch their set, too, and he'd wisely stayed away from viewing recordings and all of their live shows - which, he came to realize, he should have done this time, too. Brendon had always had a ridiculous little act on stage, terrorizing him or, if Ryan was being particularly stiff, Jon, but it had reached a whole new level, and his new guitarist and bassist fed into it. Ryan recognised Ian first and stood seeing him play in his place for a second until Brendon was in character, crossing the stage toward him, too close for Ryan to not feel a rush of mortification, the blood in his face. He turned away, strode dutifully away from sidestage and helped out all of the engineers during the entire set, even hid during intermission. This was... a lot. If this was going to be every night... Ryan really had to find a way to get over him, or some way to undo his entire goddamn contract. And there he'd been thinking there was nothing left to 'get over.' Fucking Brendon, really. 

After the show, and all the closeouts and the encore and Brendon's loving goodbye to the crowd, Ryan was still dodging any and all interaction, carrying gear back and forth as if that was what he was compensated so generously for. People slowly disappeared as they finished their jobs, musicians filing out to find a place to stay or a place to haunt until they were ready to settle for the night, tour buses taking off from the back. Jon caught him once and must have known what was on his mind because he didn't say much - just that he'd be outside on the bus, he was meeting Spencer, so on. Some stragglers were still wandering around cleaning up or deconstructing the sets to make room for tomorrow's performances but Ryan gave in anyway, braving the journey to Brendon's band's makeshift dressing room and finding that, thank god, the bassist (he'd learned was Dallon) and Ian had gone elsewhere for the time being, Brendon the only one still around finally taking off the stage costume with the dumb bowtie hanging undone around his shoulders. Ryan knew the ritual - he was way too friendly, way too charming, everyone stopped him to chat with him whether they already knew him or not. Always one of the last out, 'cause he was the most valued person at any given show. Ryan was pretty fond of that about him. 

For a moment he watched from a distance, Brendon looking in the mirror and undoing his shirt's buttons gracefully, which was odd because Ryan was pretty familiar with him getting undressed and he was always so hurried and it messed up the rhythm, made everything take longer. But he looked peaceful here, unwinding after a successful show, a weirdly private, intimate scene to be observing from this length away. Unwelcome impulses crossed Ryan's mind, like how he desperately wanted to kiss him back to smiling the way he had been on stage in the beginning when Ryan was still looking, maybe some things less innocuous definitely prompted by his ridiculous, unfairly precious costume. He shut his eyes tight for a second to recover, crossed his arms over his chest loosely, and approached, looking uncertain. [b]"Hey,"[/b] Ryan said to his reflection, standing a little ways behind him. Whoops. He hadn't thought this through at all. He'd been planning on complimenting them, because he'd heard the sets and he'd heard the cheers and obviously they were fantastic, but was a little afraid he'd sound... fake, after such a long time without real conversation. Ryan tried to convey his sincerity by softening his countenance, moving around until he was meeting Brendon's gaze, not letting his own drop to his chest. God forbid. [b]"You guys sounded... just. Amazing. You killed it. Not to state the obvious."[/b] He half-smiled, familiar.

Ryan paused, a little awkwardly even though he felt somehow comfortable with Brendon again already, tightened his grip around his elbows. [b]"You okay?"[/b] he asked into the quiet, and it was genuine - he'd been wondering, really, after everything, and then whatever might have happened between then and now. Clearly the band itself was doing fine, fantastic, but it was never a reliable reflection on how Brendon was as an individual.