They'd been on tour for a month strong now, give or take, and Ryan's estimation of his patience was initially a little too high. That first night, he'd been in Brendon's dressing room for mere minutes before he realized he felt the same as before, the feelings he'd thought gone stale still as lively as in Seattle. Something about that city... they were back in it, and every ground rule laid out for him had become less and less feasible over time, now completely in the back of his mind whenever he was with Brendon again. It was only a national tour and those didn't last forever; the 'steamy second love affair' that 'could only last as long as this tour, no longer' was, by Brendon's terms, coming to a close. Ryan honestly had no idea if he still meant it. Hell, considering Ryan had been turned away for the past week, he might have meant even shorter of a time, which... was a hard deal to maintain. As the one to initiate their rivalry, before everything, before even knowing Brendon, Ryan would have never guessed he'd be the one so desperately attached. Maybe it was just the fact that he didn't have anything else going for him, but either way, that was where they were: Brendon telling him 'later' and him being affected enough to wait.

Ryan saw the Spokane sign from his band's bus window and knew they'd crossed state lines, just a matter of time until Seattle. Social media was flooded with 'welcome to Washington's and they watched hours of nothingness, little towns and cities and reservations pass by, until evergreens crowded the windows and they were surrounded by water and this was Seattle, telltale, familiar. Ryan texted Brendon vaguely, having barely seen him during any of the stops for gas, [i]feeling nostalgic?[/i], and when he received no response, pretended there was a reason he might be busy. Maybe this whole affair had come to a standstill. Maybe Brendon was making it easier for himself to end it when the tour was actually over, sticking to his word. In any case, Ryan had held up his end - tried to be inconspicuous, not really talking unless the Jon-and-Spencer buffer was there, and then not telling anyone at all. Though he wasn't totally certain that Jon wasn't in the know already. He was goofy, sure, but he wasn't dumb, and they were in close enough quarters on the TYV bus that it was hard not to look over someone's shoulder at their texts or read into the occasional obvious lyric Ryan threw out into the ring. If he knew, it'd sort of be Ryan's fault.

It was early afternoon when they found their hotel - and thank god, because Washington wasn't a big state but it sucked to pass through while only cramming themselves into bunks, after a couple of weeks doing exactly that - and Ryan was practically the first out of the bus into the expansive parking lot, waiting for the other bands to land and Brendon to exit his. This was sort of routine, if embarrassing. It's not like he could casually welcome himself onto Panic's bus and raid Brendon's space, not when people still thought there was some bad blood. And maybe they weren't the best of friends now, but they definitely weren't still nemesis level like people thought; so long as these rules between them were in place, though, it was probably best to keep people's perceptions alive, let them believe they were right by acting the part. So Ryan waited for stops, talked to him in the parking lot, roomed up with Jon (or if they were being cheap, the whole band) and generally excused himself with something lame like he was off to a bar while he went and coordinated time with Brendon. It's not like it was always physical. There'd been nights where Ryan genuinely just stayed in the same room with him, either of them doing work writing/practicing, or Brendon had some game at hand and Ryan tried to best him, so on. He didn't think either of them expected that to become part of all of this.

But Ryan enjoyed any of it, he'd take what he could get. These days, not much. Maybe he was a little petty about that fact - it was annoying to be snubbed so often. It felt somewhat like the start, where he had to win some contest between them, and he didn't even have a clue what the contest was, ever. Here, it was like Brendon was winning, always the one to turn him down, and yet Ryan kept coming back. Out in the cold, Ryan shoved his hands in his hoodie's pockets, utterly dressed down for Seattle weather in just that and jeans, and waited alongside Brendon's bus until he stepped out and Ryan could nudge him in the side with his elbow. [b]"Hey, hey,"[/b] he said, voice rough, and suddenly he realized he hadn't actually spoken in a good five hours. Fucking long drives. Ryan cleared his throat, stepping back and watching Brendon's new bandmates plus Spencer file out, pursing his lips. [b]"Think you'll be free tonight? I just got a [i]Netflix.[/i] It's gonna be wild."[/b] And he was a little late. What of it? The other tour members all turned away, unloading their bags and shrugging on backpacks, Ryan felt it was safer to step closer, so he hovered nearer to Brendon, edging them closer to the side of his tour bus. [b]"Or are you gonna bail like you have been?"[/b] Late on Netflix, and a bit confrontational. A long trip had driven him stir-crazy, as usual.