He didn't usually lie or come up with stories in interviews. Even when asked about touchy subjects, which, generally, he had no godforsaken clue [i]where[/i] the press got this information about him, unless some estranged family member was selling details about the Rowe family or whatever - he was still honest, just filtered. 'Tell us about your father, Ryan,' well, he was in sales, he was a big fan of the first record, he's my namesake, so on. Surface level shit that they weren't [i]really[/i] curious about, but no one had the guts to outright say 'tell us about how your dad recently died, or the fact that he drank himself to an untimely death'! Yeah, Ryan knew to play his cards right. With questions about his love life, though, it wasn't just about him, wasn't all his information to share. Like involving Brendon - he couldn't reveal even the vaguest interest in him, on purpose or otherwise, until he was sure Brendon was fine with potentially getting a [i]lot[/i] of social media backlash (maybe some positive feedback; sometimes he got lucky, and Brendon was likeable enough anyway). He did wish he could, like, shout it from the rooftops, though, or something equally as corny.

Brendon deserved full credit for the increase in popularity, not just in Ryan but with the band entirely. A few different aspects of their group were now under even more scrutiny - good scrutiny, actually. His other band members, when before their names were often forgotten or ignored or they were cropped out of photos entirely (despite Ryan not being much of a 'steal the spotlight' type, somehow it happened anyway), Brendon had made changes that gave them their own individual followings or at least expanded on a pre existing one. He fixed every ridiculous haircut, went through each wardrobe and ignored all protests of "[i]but[/i] i [i]think that looks good[/i]," and all of his improvements had a domino effect on other aspects of the group as people. Everyone carried themselves a little differently, more confidently. Ryan was definitely caught folding his shoulders forward less often, standing straighter and taller and prouder. Ryan had even seen a whole goddamn article about his new hair. Part of him was a little worried of the world's priorities; the other was glad for Brendon, who was thrown credit from the guys whenever the opportunity to do so presented itself.

[i]You’re very welcome.[/i] Ryan resisted the urge to laugh through his not-quite-mouthful, because as good at his job as Brendon was, he was also very ridiculous. [i]That better not be sarcasm. I spent [/i]your [i]hard-earned money on that chicken, Rowe. Don’t complain.[/i] Ryan's response was immediate, taken aback. [b]"[i]My[/i]- [i]damn[/i] it, I knew I left one of my cards here."[/b] Odd primary concern to have when your stylist knew how to use it with no consulting you beforehand, but. It was Brendon, he could buy, like, a new house with Ryan's money and he'd probably forgive him. It's not like Ryan's net worth was indicative of his bank account, but being broke was not something he was really worried about, despite it being a definite possibility if he kept up this whole... buying Brendon [i]everything[/i] schtick. He sighed, pretending to come to terms with his sad, lonely chicken wing. [b]"Not sarcasm, not complaining. I'm truly grateful. I don't know what I'd do without you, etc."[/b] Ryan was grinning, now, practically beaming at Brendon, the box forgotten in his lap.

The picture in Brendon's head wasn't too off the mark, when it came to Ryan shopping. He'd tried before, honestly, to shop for himself, but it always ended up just being him wandering around uselessly, wondering how embarrassing it would be to text Brendon selfies of him in dressing room mirrors, asking if this look decent, does that look all right. It wasn't generally in high end stores unless there was some award show coming up where [i]everyone[/i] was going to find the price of what you were wearing, ask the name brand, judge the outfit put together, so on; generally Brendon picked those without help, but sometimes Ryan liked to look around for himself, get some inspiration. And he definitely did get recognized. It made for a lot of awkwardly struggling out of jackets he'd been trying on so he could take a selfie with someone where a price tag wasn't sticking out of his collar. And then he felt awkward buying something from a person who might try to interrogate him at the counter - not that he was avoidant of fans, or anything, it's just that they probably weren't a fan so much as someone excited at the premise of meeting a celebrity and therefore gave no fucks about being respectful - so he left empty-handed. Probably for the best, given his fashion sense.

For Brendon, he was far more enthusiastic and therefore more open to running around the shop and making nice with employees, if only to win over their gladly given help. Maybe saying 'yeah, I need help finding a gift for someone I know,' and then buying things that were definitely too flashy or extravagant for just a casual friend was a bad idea, but he'd not seen any "BREAKING: RYAN ROWE'S SHOPPING SPREE FOR MYSTERY BOYFRIEND" headlines, so that was promising. Anyway. He'd tried [i]five[/i] different employees and none of them were quite close to Brendon size-wise, or at least. If they were, they didn't have every very unique flourish in his silhouette that would definitely make a difference in sizing. Brendon called it an 'apple bottom' he'd inherited from his mother, or something to that tune. Ryan called it art. But, very difficult art to find the right jeans for, or the other half to a suit. In any case, a strong 40% of his time today was spent navigating that issue in particular. 

Ryan offhandedly made a comment involving Gucci, knowing absolutely jack shit about what he was saying. [i]Wow, look at you, fashion expert.[/i] Impressed the master. Ryan mentally pumped his fist. [i]I’ve taught you well.[/i] [b]"You have! I also know that 'FW' means fashion week, and who J. Alexander is. Feels pretty good to be a parrot."[/b] He folded his hands and looked extremely pleased with himself for a moment. [i]What happened to trying to seem straight?[/i] Ryan's eyebrows raised and he leaned back, shoulders raising in a lazy shrug. [b]"I met you and decided that was impossible. Today some interviewers showed me, like 'receipts' of how I look at you in photos, and it's bad, Brendon. Prepare for some unsavory Instagram comments."[/b] Unless people one hundred percent fall in love with Brendon, which was pretty likely. Look at him! That's if they find his page, anyway... not too far into the realm of the unrealistic, all things considered. If Ryan's cult following could find his mom's literal private address before even he knew it, they could find anything. 

[i]I didn’t make you ten times hotter for you to start calling yourself ‘not cool’.[/i] [b]"Hotter?"[/b] Ryan cut in hastily, straightening up on cue, but not quite enough to interrupt. [i]That’s not just self depreciating- that’s [/i]me [i]depreciating.[/i] Ryan paused to consider this, then promptly revised his original statement. [b]"Okay. I'm totally cool enough on the outside to be a sugar daddy, thanks to my [i]very[/i] talented stylist, Brendon Bellamy. So, where's my personality makeover? I need some neuroses concealed."[/b] But. Ryan was unforgivable. He grinned, suppressing another laugh, when Brendon crossed his arms over his chest, looking like he'd taken a genuine hit. [i]God, never say that again.[/i] [b]"Say what again? Sugar un..."[/b] [i]I feel violated. [/i]Sugar uncle. [i]Gross.[/i] He finally cracked up, looking innocent in seconds flat. [b]"Either way, I eventually deserve some sugar in return, that's how it [i]works.[/i]"[/b] He was kidding. Totally.

When he lifted the jacket for Brendon's viewing and saw the approval, more than that, even, cross his features, Ryan swore his heart soared. He could make Brendon that happy, he could do [i]that.[/i] It was oddly rewarding to see. Ryan watched a little dazedly as Brendon took the jacket from his hands and explored the fabric, dropped his gaze to his mouth when he- yeah, you get it. [i]Jesus. Ryan, I love it. [/i]Fuck. Ryan smiled somewhat distractedly, suddenly liking the jacket ten times more when it was on Brendon. Over his own hoodie. He had a very out-of-the-blue urge to kiss Brendon, and he probably would've even followed through if common sense didn't cut into his thoughts unannounced, yelling about professionalism and established relationships. Stupid logical part of his brain. [b]"I like it more on you. I knew it'd look good."[/b] [i]You're the fuckin’ best.[/i] Ryan laughed easily, coming more out of the loop he'd been thrown in and returning to comfort. He leaned in to feel the shearling again, placing a hand on Brendon's shoulder, and it was definitely not an excuse just to touch him. He swore he had a real comment to make about it, but after a moment of silence and no words magically coming from his mouth, Ryan spat out the first dumbass thought that popped into his head. [b]"Did you know your ass is impossible to shop for? I made these employees who looked the same size as you try on jeans to figure it out, but no one came quite close. Trust me! I'd know."[/b]