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 Brendon's 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 after 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. "Hey," 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. "You guys sounded... just. Amazing. You killed it. Not to state the obvious." 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. "You okay?" 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.

Brendon, too, wasn’t happy about this hyped-up, money-making scheme of a ‘reunion tour’, but after initially defiantly lashing out and protesting against the whole thing, his label cracked down and he figured he should have probably seen this coming, considering that when the band initially split, Ryan and Jon were picked right back up by the label in the form of a new band. He wasn’t really following how they were doing- he heard songs, but rarely voiced his approval directly or indirectly to them. It was as if Brendon was an ex, wanting to stay as far away from Ryan as possible but not wanting to be completely in the dark about what was going on in his life. They were still- friends, he supposed, though they’d never really been just friends; they skipped over that and instead went directly from passionate hatred to physical intimacy, which, in hindsight, was definitely not the way to go. Reflecting on it all, Brendon wasn’t sure what He and Ryan ever were, if anything. They certainly weren’t boyfriends, but they were more than just friends- enemies- with benefits. There was a softness there, an affection that neither of them anticipated, and when it became too intense and neither of them could cope, plus the band was becoming more fragile over creative difference and tensions, it ultimately tore them apart.

The split was a huge blow to all of them, though Brendon was reliably back on his feet with Spencer pretty soon, faster even than Ryan and Jon, who, though they’d said they were dead set on a direction for the band, spent a suspicious amount of time in production and writing. Meanwhile, Brendon and Spencer organised auditions for a new lineup- they needed a bassist and a guitarist, which would be difficult shoes to fill, Brendon secretly thought. No matter their differences in what direction they wanted to go in, there was a general mutual respect and agreement that they were all very talented musicians and it would be hard for all of them to find people that could fill those empty spaces on stage and be even half as good as their predecessors. Brendon’s ex-sort-of-boyfriend (he had quite a few of those), Ian, was the sensible choice for guitarist- they ended things in a very good place and though he imagined it would be slightly alarming for Ryan that he had been replaced by Ian of all people, they did audition some others, but nobody fit as well as Ian did. Spencer has joked, rather darkly, than maybe Brendon just always had a thing for his guitarist. Brendon was disgruntled, but couldn’t exactly argue- of the two he’d played with as part of an official lineup, he’d hooked up with them both.

Then there was the matter of a bassist. Brendon and Spencer has already been writing and recording their new album and were done a few weeks before they even found Dallon, who was, in fact, their only hope, because after months of not being able to find anyone, Dallon come along in the nick of time so they could actually perform on tour. The downside to Dallon was that at the first audition, it quickly became apparent that he hadn’t learned any of the songs. Not one. Brendon, who was letting label and time pressures get to him, had snapped and demanded that Dallon actually learn the songs next time, you fucking moron. Of course, Dallon did, and after that Brendon realised he was a sweet guy, kind of odd, but a talented musician and almost as theatrical and over-the-top as Brendon was while they were on stage even just in soundcheck and practices. The first night of the tour, though, was when the onstage chemistry between the three front-of-house band members (Spencer was too confined to his drums to join in) became obvious- Brendon, with his new haircut, in the new bowtie/suit/suspenders getup that he’d forced the rest of the band to wear, had seemingly evolved from the sweet, geniune, hyperactive frontman he’d once been- he became more bold, chaotic, perhaps even explicit, which was maybe understandable given the nature of the songs he had written lately- but it both stunned and riled up the crowd, especially when Brendon stores across stage towards Ian and pressed up against him, sans innocence or affection, or when he got down on his knees in front of Dallon just for the hell of it. It was all a spur-of-the-moment thing, and by the end, Brendon was impressed with himself for not just stripping off onstage.

Afterwards, he was content, cooling down in the air-conditioned rooms backstage and then flitting between people, accepting compliments about the show and engaging in conversation with the stage manager about how things could be improved, being all giddy and excited with Dallon and Ian and Spencer but deciding, to everyone’s surprise, he was just going to go back to the hotel tonight, not go drinking anywhere. Therefore, he was pretty much the only one left after everyone else dispersed into the city or back onto buses and away, so he went back to his dressing room (unfortunately not air conditioned) and began to undress, realising belatedly as he did so that he’d probably have to wear the same clothes over and over again before he got a chance to wash them. He only had so many changes of costume and Brendon was adamant that he’d stick to the theme all the way through and not end up in, like, jeans and a t-shirt like he often had in his previous band when he was too laid-back to care about whether he matched the show or whatever. Brendon was much more of a showman now, and it was obvious in the way he talked, performed and sang. The change in him was evident to those who knew him well and those who didn’t.

Turns out, though, Brendon wasn’t the only one left behind after everyone else had filtered out and left. He saw Ryan in the mirror and blinked, a rush of emotions hitting him that he couldn’t quite describe, so he didn’t try and read into it too much, just exhaled silently from his parted lips and offered Ryan’s reflection a small, tired smile. Hey. It hit Brendon then that they hadn’t had a proper conversation in person for a while, especially not while alone. It’d been too hectic so far, Brendon didn’t even remember seeing him before the show. ”Hey,” He returned, casual, stepping aside slightly as Ryan moved to stand by him so there was more room by the mirror. Automatically, he gave Ryan a quick once-over, then looked back dutifully at his reflection. You guys sounded... just. Amazing. You killed it. Not to state the obvious. Brendon grinned, glancing down as he finished the last of his buttons and let his hands fold over his chest. ”Thanks, man, you too,” He murmured, but then he quirked an eyebrow as he remembered exactly how he behaved on stage, cringing not from embarrassment but more for Ryan’s sake. ”I’ve been told that sometimes I’m too much, but. Good to know you approve.”

Brendon cleared his throat and hesitated for a second. He’d been in the middle of changing, but now Ryan was here, he put it on pause, and after a second he turned to glance at the closed door. You okay? ”Yeah, I’m great, how are you?” A pause. ”Are we the only ones here? How come you stayed back?”

Ryan missed him. He missed a lot about the band - the fact that their following had accumulated so quickly and so strongly that they hardly had to do much to generate enthusiasm was one huge surprising change (and it appeared that love for the band came mostly because of the half that stayed with the original name; Ryan couldn't find nearly as many people interested in his and Jon's new work). But the sentimental stuff was worse, like how he'd been longterm best friends with everyone in that lineup. Even if he didn't get on with Brendon ninety percent of the time before their little episode, he was at least comfortable with him, had a familiar routine. With the new group he wasn't totally sure of himself or of them; of course it's not like he didn't trust them or like them, just. It wasn't the same. And he was pretty sure they weren't in it for the long haul, just to complete a tour and then call in a replacement. When it was Brendon, Spencer, Jon, and Ryan, no one dared to even call in sick - when their temperature read one-hundred degrees they'd stupidly risk it because, in their minds, no one could play like the originals. That was a distant idea now.

But anyway. More than he missed the thousands of things he had taken for granted during his time in that band, he missed Brendon - and, yes, this is the same Brendon he gave the cold shoulder to for over a year, the same Brendon that was about the only person he'd ever been in so many near-physical fistfights with, the same Brendon who learned to torment him right back rather than take the petty behavior silently. He was all of that, but he was also the Brendon that helped him get over the worst relationship in his life, the one who really had saved his band from failing, the one who stuck stubbornly on his mind constantly ever since Seattle. He missed Brendon's smile and his laugh that he'd only recently been given the privilege of seeing genuinely and frequently when the split happened. He missed seeing him work, probably the most passionate musician Ryan had ever seen (and Ryan knew Jon, who worked 24/7/365). He missed talking to him, like towards the end when he could hold real, full conversations with him, learn about his real personality that he'd snubbed when he was first replaced as frontman.

Seeing him again, suddenly Ryan couldn't remember why he'd reasoned that it would be a bad idea to reach out to him after the split. Really he knew he shouldn't be falling for it - on stage Brendon had this allure that would make anyone gravitate towards him, and Ryan could fool himself into thinking that all the old feelings he'd pushed aside in favor of moving on with his life were actually fully gone. But he'd never gotten over it, unsurprising by the lack of any closure to their weird, incomprehensible relationship. Bizarre. Typically Ryan didn't get super easily attached. Brendon's small, unreadable smile back at him in the mirror, though, brought him back, and suddenly he felt freshly twenty-one again, drunk off of various concentrations of alcohol and the prettiest boy in existence. It's not like he was in love, they weren't some fairytale romance, never had been. It's just. He had been borderline obsessed with the guy. Hard to pretend nothing ever happened there.

Hey. Even hearing his voice again, his offstage speaking voice, a little rough and tired from use, was grounding. Ryan switched from looking at their reflection to watching Brendon himself, searching his face for changes, finding a new calmness and surety that he wasn't certain had been there before. Thanks, man, you too. Ryan doubted it - maybe they were good, not to the same extent otherwise they'd be headlining their own tour, but he shrugged halfheartedly anyway as a silent thanks. I’ve been told that sometimes I’m too much, but. Good to know you approve. Ryan laughed lightly, and wondered whether he should mention that he could only stand seeing the stage show through for one song. He didn't approve, not quite. Ryan decided to keep that to himself - it was more embarrassing for him than it would be for Brendon. "Hey, 'too much' is what you do best. Stick with it." He smiled, charmed, and was glad he could get through saying that rather than freaking out on Brendon the way he had last time he'd caught him with Ian, but he hoped to God Brendon wouldn't actually take his advice. He'd be suffering this whole tour.

Yeah, I’m great, how are you? These were just pleasantries, but Ryan believed him, was actually glad that he was doing all right. He knew Brendon would thrive with the extended creative freedom, but there'd been a part of him worried that maybe adjusting would be difficult, or something. No such thing as not being able to adapt, in Brendon's case. "Fine," Ryan returned quietly, dropping his gaze to his feet somewhat timidly when his mind flashed back to Brendon's stage act without his permission. God. He wondered exactly how long that would be burned in his brain. Are we the only ones here? How come you stayed back? Ryan tilted his head curiously, wondering if he was playing ignorant intentionally. Of course Ryan stayed back for him, just for him. What else would he have stayed for? Everything else paled in importance compared to seeing him up close again. "I think we are. Spencer and Jon are apparently reconnecting." He smiled fondly at that, glad they were still evidently close as ever despite a common connection being cut.

"I stayed for you. Why else?" Ryan stepped closer, uncrossing his arms and shoving them in his pockets. He paused for a moment, wondering what his limits were, but Brendon had usually appreciated his honesty more than his attempts to save them from an awkward encounter in the past. "I didn't realize how much I missed you until I saw you again," he said carefully, earnest, and it might have sounded like a line if he didn't mean it mostly platonically. He missed their almost-romance, too, but more than that, he'd been warming up to their newfound friendship or what was close to that just before the split. The timing was pretty terrible. Less platonically, he chanced moving closer again, gaze drifting down to Brendon's open shirt for a second. Braving the nerves that told him he'd probably get rejected, that the stage show might not be an act and he was committed to one of his new band members, Ryan reached out, brushing a knuckle lightly over Brendon's exposed chest briefly. "And I guess I missed this too, but that's not all that surprising."

Brendon supposed that he missed the band, and by that he meant the original lineup- after all, he and Spencer had kept the name and carried the torch onto something new, they’d just had a few swaps of other members, that’s all. Though- he couldn’t look at it like that. Brendon hadn’t even been there as part of the original lineup- Panic first belonged to Ryan, Spencer, and Brent, of all people, then Jon replaces Brent, and Brendon was only taken on board a reasonably significant period of time later- but then, they all regarded the four of them to be the most significant members, because. They were there during the height of Panic’s fame- at least, before the split. Anyway, he missed a lot, even the arguments they’d have over lyrics and musical arrangements and ‘should Ryan sing this part or should Brendon’, but what he didn’t miss was the disaster of a relationship (or lack thereof, rather darkly, towards the end) he had with the original guitarist and lead singer, Ryan, who had practically bullied him since he joined the band. It was a mutual bullying, to be fair, a toxic dynamic that, at first, Jon and Spencer desperately tried to stamp out, or at least quell, or minimise the damage that it could do to the band so a whole. Though, considering Ryan and Brendon were the two primary creative forces behind everything, he supposed they were doomed from the start, with the integral workings flawed as soon as Ryan decided he had a vendetta against who replaced him.

That was until Seattle, though, a major marker in both Brendon’s personal life and his career, and ultimately the fate of the band. After they’d drunkenly (but not without some feeling, as buried as it was) hooked up in Brendon’s hotel room on the night of Ryan’s 21st birthday party, their relationship became softer, something was just below the surface, deeper even then the almost carnal desire they harboured for eachother; but there was a limit. They weren’t friends, it never went that far, but they began a brief affair after Ryan broke it off with Keltie. Things just... Didn’t work out. They had damaged the prospect of an actual relationship beyond repair and no amount of physical intimacy could hide that, brush over it, sweep it under the rug. In fact, they fought almost as much as before, they just had a very different outlet, so it never got close to actual fistfights ever again. Anyway, though the ‘original four’ of them had issues right at their core that made the whole structure of the band unstable right from day one, the nostalgia still hit him had. He felt wistful when he thought back to their original recording sessions, all the fucking weed, even Brendon and Ryan had their geniune gentler moments, like when Ryan’s dad died, or things less serious but probably monumentally hard to cope with at the time, like when Ryan stumbled into his hotel room and was all kinds of torn up because he realised Keltie didn’t, like, love him. Even if he didn’t love her at that point. Brendon understood the feeling now.

But, after initially struggling to get over it (both the breaking off of his and Ryan’s kind-of relationship, one that was actually steadily improving, they actually had started to like eachother and seek out eachother’s presence, and the split of the band), Brendon came to realise that things changed, it just happened, and he was more than capable of taking that and running with it, and he and Spencer sure as hell did. The lack of contact between the two halves of the band wasn’t even intentional, Brendon had grown up and grown past holding grudges. He and Spencer were just so busy that they barely got time for themselves, nevermind for trying to reconnect with friends that would probably be just as busy as them or even more so, considering they had arguably more work to do to try and promote themselves and make an impression. Brendon had the safety net of the original name- it set them up for success no matter what they put out, whereas Ryan and Jon had to start almost entirely from scratch, even if they did retain a good percentage of fans. In that area, Brendon admired their work ethic- Ryan’s rivalled his own and Jon was also an ardent, passionate musician. He admired them from afar, but only in theory. Honestly, he never allowed himself to be interested enough to actively check out their stuff, ask how they were, organise something, even just have a conversation.

Even on tour, Brendon hadn’t run directly into Ryan until right now; though it was less running into him and more Ryan actively seeking him out, which interested him in a way he couldn’t quite specify. In the back of his mind he realised contently that it was good to see him again. He looked good. Brendon was as casual as possible when addressing him, though, neutral conversation and ‘man’, though in his head he annoyingly still thought baby. It was almost difficult to know how to behave, how to navigate this, but they were never really subtextual and subtle for very long. Ryan’s intentions would be aired soon enough. Hey, 'too much' is what you do best. Stick with it. That earned him a slight laugh, but Brendon wondered exactly what he meant by that. ”I intend to,” He replied, taking off the loose bowtie draped around the back of his neck and over his shoulders and tossing it carelessly in a random direction, deciding that he could hunt for it again tomorrow, or something. ”Maybe I’ll even take it a bit further. I’m thinking: fully just- make out with Dallon onstage.” Chuckling to himself, he looked down reflectively at his feet for a moment before he lifted his head, eyes shining. ”Have you met Dallon? You know Ian, but- Dallon, my- our bassist.” Not just his bassist, that would sound strange, Brendon corrected himself mid-sentence.

Fine. Good. Good, Brendon thought, regarding him for as long a time as he would allow himself. I think we are. Oh. Well, Brendon almost gulped, felt a little shiver, recalling what used to happen whenever they had an extended amount of time alone, but he shut himself down quickly, knowing the dangers of carrying down that mental highway. Spencer and Jon are apparently reconnecting. Just as Ryan smiled, Brendon did, mirroring him in his fondness for the two. ”Remind me to reconnect with Jon. Everything’s so hectic, I hope we all get to hang out more.” When Ryan stepped forward to speak again, Brendon was busy dusting down his slacks, and was rather startled when he looked up and Ryan was closer than he remembered last. I stayed for you. Why else? Well then. Brendon’s eyes widened for a split second and then his expression settled into yet another content smile, almost flattered if he hadn’t already kind of expected that. ”I dunno, I was just trying not to jump to conclusions,” He joked, flashing him a grin before returning to trying to somewhat clean his trousers, not daring to maintain eye contact because suddenly this was very real.

I didn't realize how much I missed you until I saw you again. ...Okay, that was cute. The corner of Brendon’s mouth quirked up slightly and he allowed himself to meet his gaze, blinking at with almost apprehensively because though clearly affectionate, that was such an open confession. Was it just platonic? Brendon didn’t think so, but he had a history of jumping to conclusions too fast and overreacting, making a fool of himself until he usually quickly fixed his mistake to minimise embarrassment, so. He made no grand statement in return- but what he did make was an honest one. ”I missed you too, Ry. We’ve got all tour now, though s’awesome.” They were going to be together in relatively close quarters for an entire tour. Brendon’s mind drifted. Old habits died hard, it seemed, and old thought processes didn’t die at all. He was about to speak again, voice his enthusiasm about it, but without much warning Ryan was in close quarters and Brendon’s eyes darted down to watch his knuckle brush against his chest. And I guess I missed this too, but that's not all that surprising.

For a moment, Brendon was truly floored by how quickly Ryan had accelerated an innocent reunion into something with this much underlying subtext- and now it wasn’t even subtext, Ryan was hitting on him, he was staring and touching and his interest was plain as day and Brendon felt the breath had been knocked out of him. At first, before conjuring up a reply to this, he eyed Ryan suspiciously. He didn’t seem drunk, or high- so this was sober Ryan, coming onto him like this within ten minutes of reuniting. Brendon couldn’t help but smirk. It played on his mouth dangerously, and he finally came to a plan of action, stepping in just a little closer and tilting his head back to look up at him. ”Not at all surprising,” He replied, unbothered about seeming haughty or full of himself. At this point, he deserved a little self love. ”Luckily for you,” Brendon started, stepping back and resting his lower back against the dresser in front of the mirror, ”I was getting changed anyway. Feel free to stay, I’ve done this in front of thousands.” Somehow, he managed not to be too explicit about it, and instead he pulled his suspenders from his shoulders and let them hang by his sides, then shrugged off his shirt and dropped it onto the floor in a similar fashion to his bowtie. His hands came to rest at his belt and he finally looked up. ”Or leave. Up to you.”

Ryan didn't really know what he was doing here. He didn't expect an instant reconnection, or even for Brendon to still be interested in him or want his friendship - friendship? Companionship? - but he was lucky that Brendon was merciful in that all he did was return pleasantries, stay friendly. Really it would be understandable if he'd just reverted to how they used to be; after all it's not like the connection they'd had, or had been so close to having, was so foolproof it would survive the distance and the split itself. Ryan had just... clung to it, he supposed, and he thought it was just him. He couldn't help looking a little grateful, relaxing with relief when Brendon smiled at him, didn't look particularly perturbed or bothered by his presence. There was a while there, the awkward stage between Seattle and actually getting comfortable with each other, where he'd walked on eggshells because he didn't know where he stood. Afraid of going back to that despite the progress they'd made, Ryan was sort of prepared for the worst, and now he could let all of that worry go.

Still - there was a chance that this was just a good beginning, and maybe Brendon's kindness was only extended through the exhileration of a fantastic show. So Ryan didn't take the steady, easygoing mood for granted just yet. I intend to. Ryan's gaze followed the bowtie tossed seemingly randomly, and wondered distantly, fondly, whether Brendon would grow out of that, the careless way he did some things. Either way. Ryan bookmarked the location of the accessory in his head, considering Brendon would probably forget in some twenty minutes despite whatever he was telling himself. Maybe I’ll even take it a bit further. I’m thinking: fully just- make out with Dallon onstage. Ryan's smile subsided without his permission, and he was glad Brendon was looking down rather than at the disappointed expression that crossed his face. He was practiced at hiding all of that, though, so he quickly fixed it, trying for 'vaguely amused' before Brendon glanced up again.

Have you met Dallon? You know Ian, but- Dallon, my- our bassist. Yeah, he knew Ian. Ryan hoped to high hell that Dallon wasn't... on the same page as Ian, as far as his relationship with Brendon went. It made no sense that Ryan was almost jealous, because they weren't and never had been exclusive, and they hadn't even seen each other in months, nothing was going on between them except for in the back of his head trapped in distant memories - but the 'my' that Brendon almost let slip cut into him somewhat. He wasn't sure if he was annoyed by it or sad, conflicted, but either way it wasn't something he was going to let slip to Brendon, because it would be one hundred percent unfair to make it out as if Brendon didn't have the freedom to do whatever he wanted just because Ryan was an overly sensitive ass. He chewed his lip for a second, internally calming down before responding. "No, I haven't, not yet." He's tall, though, from the looks of it. Brendon had a thing for that, Ryan remembered. Damn it. "He looked cool, though. He'd play along." Ryan's smile was a little stiff.

Remind me to reconnect with Jon. Everything’s so hectic, I hope we all get to hang out more. It sounded like some fake sorority girl speech but Ryan knew Brendon was genuine, and he agreed. To an extent. Maybe hanging out more would not be good for them - but he was kidding himself if he was trying to play it like his imagination wasn't already getting the best of him. He hadn't approached Brendon with anything specific in mind, nothing except for talking to him, but. His brain was certainly creative. And Brendon's current state of undress was not helping. "I'm sure he'll find you first. He's been gushing about both of you and your new music ever since the label told us we'd be on this tour together." Ryan carefully, wisely, made no mention of his initial reaction to learning that, one very opposite of Jon's enthusiastic one. He'd changed his opinion since then, but still - it wasn't helping anybody to out himself as a bitter old soul.

Like before, Ryan really hadn't been planning anything. He didn't have an ulterior motive here. But apparently Brendon's presence alone was enough to send him spiralling back to history and he was maybe sort of a little bit hitting on Brendon again, totally out of his control. Ryan would've regretted it - but Brendon wasn't showing any signs of total disgust or rejection yet, so. He supposed he was in the clear for the time being. I dunno, I was just trying not to jump to conclusions. So maybe he wasn't being rejected, but Ryan could tell he'd caught him off guard, still watching him intently while he looked back down and dusted himself off. "I'm predictable," he said gently, searching his profile and deciding that, yeah, this was the point of no return. He couldn't train his mouth to shut up before and here were the repercussions. Ryan braced himself for impact, because Brendon was sometimes the smarter one and knew when to cut him off first, and although he'd been astoundingly pleasant thus far, there was no reason for him to reject Ryan in a merciful way. After all, he'd come over sort of unwelcome, with barely any easing into this.

Honesty from Ryan appeared to still be appreciated, because when he told Brendon he missed him, he caught the little half-smile and met his gaze again, easy. He did catch the almost reluctance - Brendon was an open book when he wasn't too guarded - and felt an edge of unease, bracing himself a little more. I missed you too, Ry. We’ve got all tour now, though, s’awesome. Ry. He could've cried with relief, really. Brendon was still staying casual and maybe that was a hint for Ryan to return to surface-level where Brendon might be more comfortable, maybe this was the gentle let down, but. If he had to do that it'd truly fucking suck, so he stayed earnest, would rather be told outright to back off than assume he had to. Mostly, though, Brendon just looked suspicious of his advances, and Ryan sort of understood. Maybe he thought this was another scenario where Ryan had some warped state of mind, or he thought Ryan was still the type to search for an upper hand, but either way it was wrong- Ryan himself was pretty surprised at how quickly he'd fallen back into this vice. Wasn't his fault. Brendon left a legacy, truly.

After a moment Brendon stepped closer, and Ryan stayed in place, returning his other hand to his pocket and keeping them there withholdingly. It's not like they'd really grown up but after seeing Brendon's uplifted confidence onstage today - for the brief time he did - he'd somehow forgotten the height difference, and now he was slanted over him, a few scant inches he had to tilt his chin down to really regard him through. Not at all surprising. Ryan grinned. That confidence. He could already feel the swell in his chest, and really he wasn't intentionally letting his mind wander, it just... Luckily for you, I was getting changed anyway. Feel free to stay, I’ve done this in front of thousands. As if there was a magnetism keeping them both in balance while they stood parallel, when Brendon stepped away Ryan swayed a little, lifting his head again and watching him with interest. An invitation to stay? Sweet. The fear of rejection eased off and he felt a tiny rush of breath leave his lips, observing as Brendon started removing layers, all the way down to his shirt dropping to the floor. He looked leaner, clearly the effects of more drive, a more passionate stage presence - which before he'd thought was impossible.

Ryan didn't really believe him until his hands were on his belt and suddenly the weight of the situation was on him, fully realizing what was happening. Well. Not really. He had no fucking idea what they were doing, nor had he anticipated anything to happen if you'd asked him five minutes ago. Or leave. Up to you. For the first time Ryan hesitated, uncertain, gaze flickering between Brendon's face and where his hands rested before he was closing the gap again, removing his own hands from his pockets and replacing them at Brendon's waist. "I'd be pretty stupid to stay," he replied in a surprisingly level tone, considering he was already helping undo the clasp on Brendon's belt. Hey, even if nothing was going on here really, he may as well get Brendon into something more comfortable. "But I'd be even more stupid to leave." Belt undone, Ryan's hands travelled up to hold him close, aligning their bodies and angling his head down to Brendon again. "Hey, what you did up there, on stage... I'd be pretty interested to see how that'd look with me." Ryan honest to god didn't know where this was coming from. It's like he was having an out of body experience. Whatever the case may be, Ryan wrapped a hand around the back of his head incredibly gently, the other at his jaw, and searched his gaze for permission before trying to meet him in a tender kiss.

Brendon did have a thing for tall guys, even though he refused to admit it, and furthermore he knew that Ryan had clocked him on that- so when he mentioned Dallon, whom Ryan had seen in all of his six foot four inch glory, he imagined how that would seem, especially when he had to go and run his mouth and say my bassist. He didn’t mean anything by it at all- though the debauchery onstage might suggest otherwise, there was nothing other than a friendship between Brendon and Dallon, and he wasn’t even sure why he was worrying about it, second-guessing his phrasing for Ryan’s benefit, when he was unsure whether Ryan would even care. Why would he? It had been a significant amount of time since they’d even spoken, it’s not like what they had had been a real relationship, or anything. If Brendon had read into his own thoughts a little more, he would have come to the realisation that he wanted Ryan to care. He wanted there to be jealousy, he wanted to be the object of Ryan’s attentions. It was just hard to admit to himself, especially after all this time when he should be well and truly over him now. No, I haven’t, not yet. Seemed pretty nonchalant. Brendon’s smile wavered desperately, as he considered the possibility that maybe, just maybe the reason that Brendon hadn’t fallen for Dallon as everyone around them sort of expected was that he was too busy being Ryan’s, even now.

He looked cool, though. He’d play along. Brendon nodded, tilting his head just barely and allowing the little smile to return comfortably to his face as he recalled their less than innocent antics on stage, tonight and shows previous to that. ”He is,” Came his affectionate response, because Dallon was. A little whiny, sometimes, maybe, but had a flair and showmanship that came close to rivalling Brendon’s. He turned a little more towards Ryan, lifting an eyebrow sharply, suggestively. ”And yeah, he would. Sometimes we don’t know when to stop. And we wonder why people think we’re dating,” As Brendon spoke, he chuckled, shaking his head as if bemused, like everything he did up there when the lights came on wasn’t completely intentional and every move was manufactured for a purpose, to start rumours, cause controversy, fuck with people- Brendon was at the stage in his life where he was fed up of strumming serenely at an acoustic guitar and singing nonsensical love songs (no offence to Ryan)- he now savoured the spotlight, made the most of the attention he got and reinvented himself completely. He’d grown leaner, his hair had gone through a dramatic revamping, his voice had improved and he was more bold, less reined in by the past, much more sensible members of the band (they were virgos and he was an aries, that’s all anyone had to know).

It was a new era, and he’d hoped to wipe a slate clean, start afresh with new people and new music, but here was Ryan, and he was desperately trying to cling onto that past even if on the surface he seemed relatively nonchalant about this whole reunion. Ryan’s company brought Brendon’s head and heart back to the original lineup, to Spencer and Jon, and nostalgia he’d mostly quelled, an emotion like grief he’d almost overcome both resurfaced again for brief, bubbling moments before they evaporated into a vague, wistful, more manageable sensation. He missed them all, but he couldn’t let that hold him back. I'm sure he'll find you first. He's been gushing about both of you and your new music ever since the label told us we'd be on this tour together. Brendon allowed himself to grin affectionately, pleased by the knowledge that Jon, one of the most talented and multifaceted musicians he knew, had praised (apparently endlessly) his new music. It meant a lot because Jon meant a lot to him, no matter how long it’d been since they last spoke. That distance would be resolved soon, though, so all would be sound. ”Tell him the feeling’s mutual,” He replied, though that was mostly a lie. Brendon hadn’t heard enough to pass his judgement properly. He wasn’t sure what was stopping him listening to their new record- maybe the knowledge that Ryan put all his feelings into song, and Brendon was terrified that he would hear a reference to himself in the music, and also terrified that he wouldn’t.

”I’ll admit, I had my doubts about this tour. Seemed like the label wanted to feed off the ‘drama’ or whatever they fuckin’ hoped would happen.” Brendon murmured, then glanced carefully at Ryan. When he looked back, that’s when it hit him square in the face that Ryan was hitting on him, less than ten minutes since they’d reunited after months of nothing at all, radio silence. At least it solved the mystery of whether Ryan cared about him at all in that way anymore, and the answer was yes, he did. Though this was the outcome that the most carnal parts of his brain wanted, the logical parts didn’t know what to think. Brendon was uneasy, but not uneasy enough to tell Ryan to back off, which everyone knew that he would have no trouble doing if that’s what he felt was necessary. He was intensely curious about what turns this encounter would take. I’m predictable. Not exactly, but Brendon released a rush of air from past his lips as a sort-of laugh, the corner of his mouth quirking affectionately. ”God, I wish you were.”

Things accelerated from there and suddenly Brendon was actually going along with Ryan’s sudden advances, even inviting him to stay while he got undressed. Brendon didn’t recall smoking or drinking anything recently, but still he felt like an outsider watching his body make bad, bad decisions. He just couldn’t help himself, and apparently, nor could Ryan, whose eyes he felt trained on him, drinking him in, almost, as he shed layers. Brendon suddenly felt paranoid that he’d misread the situation, as Ryan hadn’t moved since he invited him to stay, so he hastily offered him a way out in case he felt trapped, or something. There was a suffocating moment of hesitation and silence between them and then Ryan was close, so close, and his hands were at Brendon’s waist and he only glanced up at him once before he stared back down and Ryan’s hands were already deftly undoing the clasp on his belt like it was second nature, muscle memory neither of them were in a hurry to forget. He supposed they were past the point of return and sucked in a breath. I’d be pretty stupid to stay. Brendon’s eyes were wide- don’t go, don’t go, don’t go. Ryan was right, but had it ever stopped them before? But I’d be even more stupid to leave. Brendon felt breathless, and he draped his arms over Ryan’s shoulders if only to ground himself from swaying.

Hey, what you did up there, on stage... I'd be pretty interested to see how that'd look with me. Brendon’s eyes, though dark since his pupils had dilated almost completely, glittered, and he raised his eyebrows, tilting his back and meeting Ryan’s gaze. ”Y’gotta be more specific,” He pointed out, moving his arms so both of his hands now cradled either side of Ryan’s jaw. ”I do a lot on stage. Better tell me straight, or I’ll end up miming blowing you and call it a day.” Brendon was on the cusp of a laugh, but then he met Ryan’s eyes again, reading his expression, and it faltered. Giving the slightest nod of consent, Brendon’s hands slid down to hang onto the front of his shirt as he met Ryan in a kiss, so unlike the first one they’d shared, he thought with more clarity, couldn’t get out of his head enough to enjoy it- but he saw it through til the end, stirred by memories of Ryan’s taste, before he pulled back, and his eyes were wide. ”I- Ryan,” He said, quietly, start-stopping because he wasn’t sure exactly what it was he wanted to say. ”I- I missed you. But, baby, I don’t know what you want. What is it that you want from me this time?” His words were gentle, not accusatory, just- searching. He wasn’t sure he could provide whatever it was that Ryan was looking for- they’d already proven to themselves a relationship wouldn’t work. There was a beat, and Brendon figured he’d been too serious too soon.

”If it’s just the late nights,” He started, hands moving to the collar of Ryan’s shirt to start moving down, pulling it apart button by button, eyes focused on his task, ”I think we can work it out.”

He is. Okay, great to know, and Ryan was over talking about him, but he remained patient, shifting his weight to one side and regarding Brendon with an expectant eyebrow. And yeah, he would. Sometimes we don’t know when to stop. And we wonder why people think we’re dating. Ryan chewed his lip, reserved, and thought about how that was kind of like them even at their worst because more casual fans didn't see through the stage act or the faux-friendly interviews where that infamous subtext was the only thing keeping them in line. He opened his mouth to ask 'why aren't you,' because of course he was on edge and bold interrogating was his specialty when he was like that, then decided against it - if the answer was anything like Brendon just not wanting to pursue anything with anyone, Ryan didn't want to hear it. He hadn't hit that point just yet, and he probably never would, if how he felt just seeing Brendon again was any indication. As it were he just laughed, softly, slightly belatedly, and dropped his gaze along with the topic.

Jon, ever his savior, came to replace any mention of the new bassist, ironically enough. Brendon seeming happy to hear about him was good news in Ryan's book. There'd always been that possibility that maybe, even though nothing bad happened to cause the split, he still held the missing members to a lower regard, didn't want anything to do with them. With Ryan, maybe that would be understandable, but Jon had been his best friend, too. And now, apparently, he still was one of them. Ryan was glad the whole new reinvention hadn't totally gone to Brendon's head. Tell him the feeling’s mutual. Ryan didn't see through the lie entirely, but he also desperately wanted to believe that Brendon had heard the new stuff they were so proud of, so he did. Ryan nodded obediently, a little smile returning to his face. "Sure - but give it a night, you'll be able to tell him yourself."

I’ll admit, I had my doubts about this tour. Seemed like the label wanted to feed off the ‘drama’ or whatever they fuckin’ hoped would happen. Oh, so they weren't going to ignore that whole thing. Ryan nodded again, this time cynical, almost scowling. "Yeah, I did too. Jokes on them - guess they weren't expecting us to have had a clean split." And they probably weren't expecting for Ryan to pretty much instantly come running back to Brendon for - whatever this was. It had initially just been to reconnect, he swore, and on some level he'd anticipated one of their old fashioned, quiet shouting matches, for whatever reason it may have ended up being, not that he wanted that at all. This was a little heavier than what he came to do, or at least it was once he'd realized that just looking at Brendon again settled a weight over his heart. No one should like anyone that much, it dawned on him. It got in the way of ambitions, of life, and maybe Ryan had gotten himself out of it the first time with the split, being able to take up another group with Jon fairly quickly, but here he was sinking back into the same ditch.

He was predictable to himself, at least, and felt a little sorry when Brendon laughed his disagreement. God, I wish you were. Ryan smiled at that - at least after all this time he could still surprise him; God knows Brendon could do it, too, the other way around, after seeing this new stage show, his new self. But it wasn't a bad surprise. In fact, the stunning new-and-improved Brendon played a part in bringing Ryan suffocatingly close again, both of them wrapping around one another in record time, lustful words spilling from Ryan's lips as if he were back out giving a show. Y’gotta be more specific. Ryan melted into his hold, sinking against him when his hands came around his jaw. I do a lot on stage. Better tell me straight, or I’ll end up miming blowing you and call it a day. Ryan tilted his head consideringly. "Miming wasn't exactly what I had in mind. We've got plenty of time to make up for, may as well do everything." He was grinning, almost like he was kidding, but really. Ryan could not think of a joke to make here if he tried.

Suddenly, though, and very typically of them, the scene turned softer, this kiss the most contained they'd been in - probably ever. Brendon seemed somewhat distracted but Ryan couldn't bother to question it; it felt like he'd been waiting for this, even despite thinking they wouldn't see each other again this close up. When they parted, Brendon's eyes were wide, and Ryan sort of braced himself again. I- Ryan... Ryan pulled a little further away, holding Brendon at length almost if only he could actually physically bring himself to do that. It's just that Brendon was never one to stammer over his words like this. I- I missed you. But, baby, I don’t know what you want. What is it that you want from me this time? Baby. Ryan searched his face, wondering if that was really what Brendon took him for, as someone who just... wanted something from him. He supposed he did - want his presence, companionship, whatever - but this made it sound like a business deal, as if Ryan had taken something from him before. He was speechless for a moment, then Brendon was already backtracking.

If it’s just the late nights, I think we can work it out. Ryan watched his face while his hands moved over his shirt, not stopping him but not quite helping, either. "Just you," he answered after another beat, lifting a hand to fit around the side of Brendon's face, stroke a thumb over his cheekbone. "I'm not saying boyfriends, I know, it doesn't work." Ryan seemed pretty disappointed by that fact, though, and 'yet' echoed in his head. They could totally turn that around by the end of tour. Probably. Just had to put in the effort. "I just want you. Whatever you can offer. See, I'm not picky." He grinned, amused, but couldn't help wondering why Brendon asked - was he hurt last time? Was he actually avoiding relationships like Ryan was worried about? Either way it seemed like this wouldn't go quite how he'd like.

The first of the three and only songs Brendon had heard from Ryan and Jon’s new record (he knew there were other members but he had never cared enough to find out who the other guys were) was titled ‘the other girl’, and when Brendon first read the title, his stomach had turned over. Before he listened, he asked himself over and over, did he really want to know what, who this song would be about? Brendon was more than aware that Ryan tended to reliably change pronouns in songs so that real life situations seemed more like fiction. ‘The other girl’ could be Keltie- it could be Brendon- or it could be some other girl Brendon didn’t know about, maybe Ryan had been with other people since then, but that was none of his business anymore. After he wrestled with himself to make a decision, he told himself to get over it- not everything is about you, Brendon- and pressed play, sitting back and gnawing on his lip, memories of arguing with Ryan over who should sing certain parts of the song flooding back to him once he heard Ryan’s voice. It was largely unchanged and Brendon thought it was charming, sweet, somewhat unassuming. Even though he knew Ryan was capable of more powerful vocals, he figured Ryan had stuck with what he was comfortable with. Brendon listened dutifully even when certain words cut into him in terrible, specific ways, just like he’d expected.

Don't wait around for love, you're not what he's thinking of, when he's with the other girl. Brendon tortured himself over this line. It could be Ryan, singing to Brendon about himself, telling Brendon not to wait around because he loved Keltie- though, Keltie had been gone from Ryan’s life for a while, as far as Brendon knew. Another theory he played with was that he was ‘the other girl’- Ryan was singing to Keltie, confessing that he’d picked out of the two of them, but still referring to him simply as an affair that went to far. Or maybe it was Ryan singing to himself, reflecting on his feelings when he’d discovered Brendon and Ian had something going on. It was a nightmare to listen to even though the song was objectively good- Ryan and Jon had, admittedly, done a good job there. Brendon, though, bitter about it at the time, had angrily and hastily scribbled down a song of his own, passionate and spiteful, mixing up their ‘affair’ as Ryan seemed to see it, and his distaste towards Jon and Ryan’s new band. They know, I know, they don’t look like me, they don’t sound like me. He calmed himself down almost immediately afterwards, but the lyrics grew on him fast and it became a song. Hurricane. It only just made it on their final album and Brendon wondered now whether Ryan had heard it.

The next of the three songs Brendon had heard was dangerous blues, a song that compared love and drugs and almost linked them together. It was less of a love song and more of a lament about how said love could hurt. Brendon didn’t know what to think about this one, because they’d never been in love, that was never a word either of them had dared to even think about, it was just mutually and silently agreed that whatever was going on between them was far from love. It was an excellent song, though, and it was Brendon’s favourite of the three, musically at least. The final was ‘lie to the truth’ and a standout lines from that less-than-a-love-song were I know I broke your heart, mine is broken too; Now if we're even, then why are we both blue? and again, Brendon wondered whether what they had for a relatively brief period of time was more to Ryan than he had thought, meant more to Ryan that it did to Brendon. He found that hard to believe, but- they were both blue, and Brendon only realised he’d been so sad about the split this whole time now that Ryan was standing before him, tall and gorgeous and astounding.

I know I’ve finally had enough of you. After hearing that line, Brendon decided he couldn’t physically sit and listen through any more, it would be too painful and he wouldn’t be able to just enjoy the music, he’d have to dissect every line and try and link it back to their own messy relationship, or lack thereof. So, when he said he loved their new record, it wasn’t a complete lie- but the full truth was that Brendon found it agonising to listen to the three songs he’d heard and didn’t even attempt to get through any more. Sure- but give it a night, you’ll be able to tell him yourself. Shit. Jon didn’t deflect and brush off compliments like Ryan could be relied on to do. He supposed he’d have to analyse every song thoroughly by tomorrow to be able to convince Jon that he’d been a fan from the start- Jon night have been easygoing and usually the epitome of relaxed, but he wasn’t stupid and he knew Brendon well enough to know when he was lying through his teeth. Brendon smiled, but it was strained, preoccupied, because he wasn’t looking forward to subjecting himself to forty five minutes of emotional turmoil.

Yeah, I did too. Jokes on them - guess they weren't expecting us to have had a clean split. Brendon exhaled a sigh of relief that they were on the same page, but then he quirked an eyebrow hesitantly, considering his wording. ”A clean split?” He echoed, thinking sheepishly about how he’d lifted Ryan’s lyrics right from the demos of their planned album while they were all still a band and turned them on Ryan in order to mock him, and thinking about the bitterness and angst that was a common theme throughout the entire album. Maybe Ryan really was just oblivious, or maybe he hadn’t heard anything at all. Brendon couldn’t help but feel annoyed by that, hypocrite that he was. ”Is that what we’re calling it now?” Grinning, but completely serious, he shrugged a shoulder dismissively and then decided he wanted to stop dwelling on the nature and length of the split and now focus on that they were back together in the same place and they had a long time to catch up. Creative differences or not, Brendon was closer to those three guys than he was anyone else. Even Ryan. Especially Ryan, in a figurative sense and now in a physical one, because they were suddenly pressed together, Ryan’s shape and feel so familiar, and he was breathing him in, everything was heated and confusing and Brendon’s only coherent thought was Ryan’s name for a long few moments until he grounded himself.

Miming wasn't exactly what I had in mind. We've got plenty of time to make up for, may as well do everything. Breathless, but laughing anyway, Brendon’s mind filled up with a heady mix of visual and kinaesthetic memories as he pressed his palms against the line of Ryan’s jaw on either side. ”Everything, anything, make me yours,” He was saying, but it was half mumbled and he cut himself off when he leaned in for that sweet kiss, one that gave him time to set himself straight and think about the possible repercussions of his actions here. Spencer wouldn’t- oh, fuck, Spencer would not be happy, but that was admittedly at the bottom of the list of problems here, and Brendon managed to stop kissing Ryan long enough to pull back and think carefully about what could happen if they took this any further and didn’t excuse it as a mistake fuelled by post-show adrenaline. They had a chance to be friends, real friends, but- Brendon didn’t really want that. He didn’t know what he wanted, so it all befell on Ryan.

He distracted himself by working on Ryan’s buttons as he waited for a response. Just you. That could be arranged, Brendon thought, blinking serenely as he tilted his head back to meet Ryan’s eyes. I'm not saying boyfriends, I know, it doesn't work. He felt his heart sink and he couldn’t quite figure out why. I just want you. Whatever you can offer. See, I'm not picky. Brendon laughed softly, but it died quickly and he looked stonily at his own hands as they slowed to stop with his self-given task of getting Ryan out of his shirt. ”That’s fine, but- I think, that, uh, we need some ground rules.” A pause, Brendon resumed his work at a more leisurely pace, reaching the bottom and punctuating his words by unfastening the last one. ”To stop us fucking shit up again. Like- we can have our steamy second love affair but this time, only for this tour. No longer.” It felt so surreal, trying to be serious when they were both in such a state.

It was true, Ryan poured his heart into his lyrics because he couldn't do so much with spoken words. The split itself was no huge deal - although he had, admittedly, been a shit about it at the time - because he'd seen it coming, and he and Spencer were bound to reconnect anyway. Brendon wasn't a guarantee, and Ryan grieved that loss so much, though it made little sense, that he turned what he felt into song. Well - most of it. And sometimes he had to twist the story into other things he didn't completely relate to lest he be a broken record, but still, there were so many standalone lines that were meant only for Brendon that he almost figured he'd never hear out of disinterest or otherwise. Even the happy, beachy songs that set the tone for the album like Take A Vacation included lines that called him back to memory; if this is settling down, then why aren't you here? All because initially it seemed like they were doing the wrong thing, making music without two key pieces to this puzzle of theirs.

Maybe we will, maybe we won't; their endless dancing around each other that he instantly regretted not taking a brave step forward into. Almost the entirety of 'Die Tonight' was his - it could practically be Brendon's intellectual property. But if I were to die tonight, would you cry or deny my place in your life? He'd never known where they stood, but when they tried to settle... I'm aware that you're scared of my heart, but it's here. Maybe that would be a little embarrassing to know that Brendon had heard it. Especially now, seeing him again... it'd been practically an invitation, and it still rang true, telling him he'd be waiting. Unknowingly, he supposed he had been. Every night is the same; go to sleep with our blame, and the shame is enough to separate us / but we can't help ourselves, we're in love, and it really hurts when it's wrong. The song spoke for itself. Perhaps sending Brendon the demos first so he could approve that much private thought about him being publicized was something Ryan should've considered - alas. A little too late now. And he wasn't freaking out, or anything, so maybe he hadn't heard or hadn't picked up on it.

The album wasn't the only thing he'd released, though, and Ryan was even more certain Brendon hadn't come across it. Lonely Moonlight was blanketed with metaphor and vagueness as per usual, and it was far too soft for anyone to even consider it might be about Brendon, his supposed arch-nemesis. In actuality: someone I love loves someone else; another day I lost all by myself. Maybe he wasn't in love, but it felt like it. Maybe he wasn't alone but it felt like it. And... maybe he was dramatic. Brendon probably wasn't writing melancholic love songs alone in a hotel room in the dead of night. Ryan tended to invest more in these things. 'Where I Belong's I know I should've never left, I'd gotten tired of being buried wasn't necessarily true anymore - he'd only felt 'buried' in those early times of Brendon taking his place, despite still being the main source of creative output. After the split the resentment over that had briefly returned, not just for Brendon but at everyone who'd played a role in turning over his lead as frontman. Anyway. The point was, Ryan had definitely dwelled too much on everything, and it seemed like Brendon was getting along fine - but he was a much more talented actor than Ryan.

And he had a writing team thinking about things more objectively. Hurricane, though, rang with the sound of Brendon - Ryan had grown familiar with his style, and some of the lyrics hit too close to be anything but his, alluding to not just Ryan but the split itself. It was spiteful, sure, and overconfident and cocky and resentful, but some pieces became desperate. You're behind my eyelids when I'm all alone... He didn't come and speak to me, or put my heart at ease... Fix me or conflict me, I'll take anything. It was a stretch, and at least one of those was about God considering the context, but still. There had to be some element of Ryan. And 'Trade Mistakes'... and 'The Calendar,' god. And I meant everything I said that night. Ryan had practically memorized the entire album by the second day it came out, on the floor of his bedroom, replaying-replaying-replaying, analyzing every word and ignoring the hurt when he thought he'd detected something. What was worse, somehow, was that it seemed like Brendon was doing a better job moving on.

But. He couldn't bring all of that up now, interrogate Brendon about what his words meant. A clean split? Ryan paused, reconsidering, then pursed his lips. His mind drifted to the same place as Brendon's unknowingly. Here I am, composing a burlesque... He'd been mad about leaving all his lyrics behind the first night alone, but a couple days, give or take, and he'd grown accepting of the fact that that was all Panic's property, not his. He shrugged his shoulders helplessly. Is that what we’re calling it now? Ryan tilted his head, good-natured. "Compared to other bands, sure. Hey, no one went off on a drug binge, none of us have any sex scandals, everyone's excited to see each other... I'd say we're doing pretty good." Well. Ryan had come pretty fucking close to snapping for a minute there, but he'd had Jon. Still he considered it all good, every cited difference and every annoyed comment and argument they'd all had with each other towards the end now officially moot. It'd all been in the heat of the moment - or, at least, Ryan never meant any of the hurtful words that might have left his mouth. Brendon's dismissive shrug kept him from going back to that, though.

Everything, anything, make me yours. The guy was a goddamn poet. It was just more fuel for that shared kiss, and maybe something Ryan would store in his brain for, like, ever. Make me yours. He wished. Wished he had the courage to ask without being afraid of the answer, wished he could prove that they could be something real without it failing, wished they'd worked out in the first place. He could feel Brendon's hesitation, though, and allowed him the pause, giving some space by leaning back somewhat. That’s fine, but- I think, that, uh, we need some ground rules. Ryan stayed shut up, uncertain, and just watched him cautiously, still not quite moving to help or encourage the removal of his shirt. Honestly he wasn't too excited about the reveal, either. Self-conscious through and through. At least it gave them an excuse to not make constant eye contact during what seemed like it was going to be a serious, almost uncomfortable conversation.

To stop us fucking shit up again. Ryan would be offended if he wasn't absolutely right. His brain had just blocked out that part, all the fucked up stuff. Like- we can have our steamy second love affair but this time, only for this tour. No longer. Ryan's mouth quirked slightly, and he wasn't going to say anything, but that was hard to believe. Just for this tour... and then what? They'd think about each other until the next equivalent partner? Ryan was sure he wouldn't meet someone who affected him as much as Brendon. As much as he'd like to abide by these 'ground rules,' he'd wanted to win Brendon over since about ten minutes ago, wanted to try again officially. Brendon wasn't just a hook-up, even if that hook-up would last the length of a tour. He was a lot more. Figuring he could probably change his mind in time, Ryan slowly nodded after a moment, shrugging his shoulders free of fabric. "Sure," he murmured impassively, pulling his arms through the sleeves and dropping his shirt to the floor. "Works for me." He tucked his fingers into Brendon's waistband, totally innocuous, and explored the expanse of his skin, thumbs finding his hipbones and hooking there. He lowered his voice, expectant. "Any more of these ground rules?"

Brendon did have a writing team now, and he surrounded himself by people who were talented at that sort of thing, professionals, who would help him write in a more contemporary way than what he was used to- panic’s writing style was almost entirely the product of Ryan’s vision, and Brendon frequently had to figuratively wrestle with him for the permission to pen down some lyrics that would actually be used, not just sneered at by Ryan and cast aside, forgotten. That had, he supposed, knocked his confidence- Brendon was a talented guy, he was more than comfortable with his musical abilities, like singing and playing instruments and writing music, but when it came to the more intellectual (he supposed, or maybe Ryan had just wanted him to think that) task of writing down words with meaning so the song was more than just a guitar rhythm over a beat, Brendon was more unsure, and though he desperately wanted to do something he could call entirely his own- like the couple of short songs from panic’s second album- he gave Spencer, Dallon and Ian more slack on their leash, willing to listen to suggestions (though not always use them, even more rarely agree with them). However, with the help of his bandmates, and several third party collaborative songwriters, he managed to create an album he was proud of, confident in, musically and lyrically.

Though not all of the words were his own, there were lines and concepts that were unmistakeably his own, and he was almost 100% regretting wearing his heart on his sleeve like that, his emotions just there for everyone to plainly hear, and not just anybody, particular people, like the one standing right in front of him, Ryan, who had undoubtedly heard the whole record. He was sentimental like that. Brendon felt worse for it- Ryan had most likely heard the whole thing, start to finish, maybe even more than once- and Brendon was weak, he couldn’t even get through three whole songs from Ryan and Jon’s album. He couldn’t bear it- and he never saw himself as that sentimental; nonetheless, looking at him now, he felt guilt and shame and embarrassment as he thought about all the self-incriminating lyrics in those damn songs. Fix me or conflict me, I’ll take anything. Desperate. Cold and alone, it suits you well. Well, that whole song was spiteful and pointed- self-confident and cocky and assured. It was Brendon’s favourite to perform but now he wa staring in the face of the person the harsh lyrics were directed to... An obsession called while you were out was about mutual less-than pining, at night your body is a symphony and I’m conducting you spoke for itself. Should have known right from the start you can't predict the end. Yeah, Brendon was more of a literal writer- he didn’t use metaphors and such to hide what he was feeling. Cold hearts apparently really did brew colder songs, and when the split happened, Brendon’s was solid ice.

As cliche as it was, since Ryan had invited himself into his dressing room and stood there, all stupid honey eyes and pretty hands and the sheepish smile and familiar, rough voice that he couldn’t get out of his head, Brendon’s hardened heart seemed to let up, allow him to be vulnerable; even if it was just a little, Ryan disarmed him like that. He hated it- but he wanted more. He was staring now, god. Brendon, get a hold of yourself. Compared to other bands, sure. What bands? They were the only major split happening at the time. Brendon furrowed his brows slightly. Hey, no one went off on a drug binge- Well, Brendon was pretty sure certain members had gotten close- None of us have any sex scandals- ”Hey, I’m pretty sure we counted,” Brendon interrupted, grinning lopsidedly and lifting an eyebrow suggestively. Everyone’s excites to see each other... That, Brendon couldn’t deny, and he smiled earnestly, because he was excited to get the gang back together at some point, just the four of them hanging out like he sorely missed. Funny- if somebody had told Brendon a couple of years ago that he would miss Ryan... I’d say we’re doing pretty good. Brendon nodded, biting his lip briefly. ”Yeah, okay, you’re right.” They were doing well. Compared to these mystery other bands, apparently.

Brendon knew he wouldn’t be able to resist him the second he walked in, but he at least thought he’d last longer than, like, ten minutes. They’d barely greeted eachother properly, not even caught up, and there was Brendon, giving permission for Ryan to make him his. Asking him. Somehow he knew he’d be mortified later, but in Ryan’s arms he couldn’t even register that maybe he’d regret this in some time. It was annoyingly intoxicating, so much so that after their brief, long-awaited kiss, Brendon had trouble collecting his thoughts and translating them into speech. To try and ground himself, he focused on working through Ryan’s shirt buttons one by one, but then he realised that would just speed things along to- wherever this was going- and it had the opposite effect. He felt his pulse quicken and he had the sudden urge, once he had exposed it, to attach his mouth to Ryan’s collarbone. Miraculously, he managed to demonstrate extraordinary willpower and instead wondered why Ryan wasn’t helping. Maybe he was reluctant. Maybe he didn’t want this. Brendon slowed, uncertain, looked up to meet his eyes. ”This is what you meant, right?” When he said that he wanted him.

Finally, he managed to start his piece about them and how an official ‘them’ never was, and still wasn’t, a good idea. It wouldn’t work, Brendon didn’t have to tell Ryan why- but he did notice that quirk of his mouth (Brendon’s eyes had barely strayed from there since they’d kissed), and felt a little unsettled. What was Ryan thinking? He was too afraid to ask. There was a silence suspended in the air for a few beats- then, upon Ryan’s slow nod, a soft, relieved exhale, that in turn hitched when Ryan’s shirt was shrugged from his shoulders. Sure. Brendon was perturbed by the lack of discernible reaction, but said nothing, because Ryan’s shirt had fallen to the floor and he lifted his hands to flatten his palms against his sternum and trail them down, his eyes following, fascinated. Ryan looked stronger, there was a noticeable increase of muscle. Brendon’s eyes went dark suddenly as he twitched away from Ryan’s fingers brushing against the skin of his waist, before relaxing, letting Ryan do as he please, and allowing his eyes to fall shut with a satisfied sigh. Any more of these ground rules? He huffed out a breath and thought for a few moments, mostly stalling so he could search Ryan’s face admiringly. ”Yeah,” He muttered decidedly, lifting his arms and throwing them around Ryan’s neck, drawing their bodies closer together and speaking almost against his lips. ”Nobody can know.” A pause. Brendon tilted his head and let his eyes flutter shut as he met him in gentle kiss, only pausing to speaks again against his mouth. ”And y’gotta let me top you.” So the last one was maybe mostly a joke. Just to see how far ryan would bend over backwards for him. If you caught his meaning.

Thrown for a loop in memories, old lyrics were worming their way into Ryan's thoughts, relevant ones like back to the street where we began - though calling them 'lovers' may be something of a stretch. Still, they were taking steps backwards, here. Ryan didn't totally believe it to be that way. If he did want something more, wasn't this progress? Maybe time apart had matured them, maybe they could make it this time, maybe, maybe, maybe. Or maybe time had passed differently for Brendon and he was in no rush to find something real, expanded fame and a change in circumstances made him even less drawn to commitment. Of course, Ryan could just outright ask, but he was better at torturing himself over these things than he was at being forward and direct. And the premise of scaring Brendon off was really not something he loved to think about, either. Hey, I’m pretty sure we counted. Ryan glanced at him sideways, smirking, and shrugged. Hey, nobody knew - as far as they were aware - but there was definitely some scandal there. People wrote ridiculous, far-fetched fiction about this stuff online. If only Brendon and him went public, god. The response would be cataclysmic.

He could see Brendon practically jittering and related too entirely, feeling foolish, his body thrumming with unspent energy - even though it seemed like they'd quickly expended a lot. He wasn't even sure where it was coming from. Allow me to exaggerate a memory or two - maybe Brendon had been right there. It was before the split, before anything, really, but perhaps Ryan was exaggerating all the memories of what'd happened between them. It would explain why he felt like every sense was amplified, like he was vibrating out of his skin. He stilled himself despite all of that, self-conscious and therefore not quite helpful to Brendon's cause even though he was definitely strongly supporting his own cause, here. One of them, anyway - the one where he wanted something beyond what they'd ever been was what he reluctantly neglected. Apparently his sudden slowness was confusing, though, because Brendon became hesitant, almost sheepish. This is what you meant, right? Ryan grinned, quick to smooth a hand down Brendon's chest reassuringly. "Of course," he said hastily, charmed by Brendon's timid backtrack - and how it was actually pretty thoughtful. "If I ever change my mind about that, then I've gone crazy, believe me."

The slight changes between both of them were welcome, every memory of a soft, more unassuming Brendon shifting to match this new version of him, his hair fully out of his face now to present every clear, sharpened feature, muscles formed from God knows where, wardrobe shifted to compliment all of his perfection otherwise. Your melody sounds as sweet as the first time it was sung, with a little bit more character for show; yeah, that's what it was. More character. Brendon was finding his own. It seemed like some separation from a very controlling creative department - Ryan wasn't naming any names - was helpful to him. But it didn't matter how strongly Ryan felt about him, Brendon was making it clearer by the moment that he didn't want this to evolve into anything more. 'For now' was all Ryan could think, and maybe that was unhealthy or overly wistful or even inconsiderate of Brendon's wishes, but. He just couldn't believe him. If Ryan was this invested, even after time apart, even after meeting other potentials (and not being interested), there was no way it couldn't be returned at least a little bit. Ryan was never confident in much, but in this, he was.

Shirt discarded, Brendon was quick to explore his skin, watching all the way. Ryan kept his gaze trained on his face, picking up on the appreciation and feeling a warmth all throughout; sometimes he was glad that Brendon was occasionally all too obvious. When he became tactile in return, Brendon seemed to twitch away for a moment before relaxing, eyes slipping shut - and Ryan thought, yes, he missed him, too. If I ever leave I could learn to miss you... He'd agonized over that one for a considerable while. Now, it was less agonizing. Yeah. Shit. More rules. Tentative, Ryan waited with bated breath, Brendon's affectionate gesture of throwing his arms around his neck and speaking spectacularly close only bringing a tidbit of comfort. Nobody can know. Oh. It did hurt, a little. It would much more if he hadn't sort of figured that was part of the agreement anyway... an unfortunate thing he'd accepted for a long time. He knew it was to avoid complications and invasive questions and all of that, but he wished he could, like, yell from the rooftops, talk about Brendon openly with anyone and everyone who would listen.

Despite understanding, Ryan still ached, and he was silent, half-responsive when Brendon kissed him again, soft as ever. He couldn't manage the enthusiasm back into his expression, not quite. And y’gotta let me top you. After a moment, Ryan laughed, leaning his forehead against Brendon's again and letting his eyes fall closed. "You're cute," he teased, a hand lifting from Brendon's waist to rest at his temple instead, thumb stroking over his skin fondly. "Sure, if you're up for the challenge. Anything for you, baby." Oops. Baby was more Brendon's thing - Ryan didn't think it rolled off the tongue quite as much for him. But "Sentimental Boy" is my nom de plume... Maybe that was true these days. 'Nobody can know' replayed in his head, and Ryan bit his lip, meeting Brendon's gaze and trying to mask his sudden uncertainty. He agreed, of course, it just sucked, and with that rule specifically he was growing less confident that maybe they were on equal terms here.

"But... you're right. Nobody can know, sure." His lips quirked again, bittersweet, and he finally leaned in again, the hand at Brendon's temple shifting to hold the back of his head instead while he caught him in another kiss, couldn't resist it. He gently caught his lower lip between his teeth, lightening his own slightly dropped mood, and pressed more long, drawn-out kisses to his cheek, drifting aside leisurely. "Hey..." He spoke between kisses, his eyelids at half-mast. "I have... my own rule." A prolonged kiss at his cheekbone, right by his hairline. "You have to try not to make me too jealous onstage, 'kay?" He was only kind of kidding. Ryan laughed softly close to his ear before catching his earlobe, leaning forward just barely to lean Brendon back with him.

Brendon often wondered whether or not anybody actually knew about the two of them. There had been that first night in Seattle, when Ryan flew across the country with the intention of heading directly to his hotel room, for what reason he wasn’t, at the time, sure of- and he was pretty sure nobody suspected a thing, the level of hatred they displayed to eachother was so great and incontestable. The next morning and the day of the first Seattle show he had earned some funny looks- Brendon didn’t blame them, he had a limp in his step that was mortifyingly noticeable- but other than that, nothing. They’d never been meticulously careful in covering their tracks, but they were, to an extent, cautious. They’d never hear the end of it if anybody found out within the band- if anybody outside of the band and the close crew found out about Brendon and Ryan’s peculiar new relationship, they’d never recover from that kind of scandal. As far as he knew, it was still their secret, their mutual burden to bear, though it didn’t feel like much of a burden when Ryan was standing this close to him and he was smirking and Brendon could vividly recall the racing thrum of his pulse beneath his lips and the warmth of his skin under his fingertips. It was all a long while ago now but it was tantalising and painfully fresh in Brendon’s mind, too overwhelming for him to be able to go with his gut and back out of this before he became ensnared with Ryan again, before their hypothetical cars collided in the same lane yet again. It wouldn’t be pretty, Brendon knew. It never was with them.

Brendon was fully aware of the gamble he was making even as he worked on the buttons of Ryan’s shirt, but he decided that even though the odds were stacked against this ending even neutrally, Ryan was worth the risk. Still, he was hesitant. Brendon had an unfortunate history of greatly misreading situations and Embarassing himself, so halfway down the front of Ryan’s shirt, he stopped, tilted his head up at him slightly, and made double sure that they were on the same page here, or at least the same chapter. Of course. He exhaled a sigh of relief and carried on, trying to ignore the embarrassing dilemma of his rapid heart- though all he could feel was it beating insistently in his chest and the only things he could tangibly focus on were the sounds of his and Ryan’s unsteady, urgent breathing as they celebrated their reunion in their own apparent special way; the familiar softness of Ryan’s skin; his gentle, dulcet tone. It was all music in his ears and at his fingertips. At night your body is a symphony and I’m conducting- an apt lyric then and now. It was terrifying how little exposure to Ryan it took for Brendon to unravel at the seams and come apart at the edges. If I ever change my mind about that, then I've gone crazy, believe me.

”You never know,” He mumbled, impatiently unfastening the final button at the bottom of Ryan’s shirt and feeling a sense of triumph when it dropped from Ryan’s shoulders and crumpled onto the ground. ”Y’could’ve gone off me or something.” ...Brendon didn’t believe that for a second even as he himself made the suggestion; Ryan had written songs about him, for god’s sake, it was highly unlikely they’d just reunite and go on as friends considering they had never just been friends before. They didn’t know how to make it work, just like how they didn’t know how to make the faraway concept of ‘boyfriends’ work- they made everything up as they went along and hoped it didn’t all fall apart into ruin, even though by now that was their trademark- it had happened with with everything since their first meeting when Ryan immediately decided to hate Brendon’s guts, then it had happened with their brief fling, and then the band had split and though neither of them mentioned it they both knew part of the blame could be attributed to the fact that they’d complicated things beyond repair. At least their mutual hatred was accepted and manageable and they each knew their place with the other- add in romance, even in its most watered down and dirtied form, everything became a whole lot harder to handle. And so, predictably, reliably, they ruined everything with admirably consistency.

They weren’t stupid. Brendon wasn’t an idiot. Again, he knew exactly what the consequences could be if this turned sour. He just- didn’t particularly care. It was so hard to care about anything or think beyond the present when he had the permission and time to explore as he pleased, hands visiting the same territory and familiarising themselves with the differences, the slight but noticeable increase in definition. It was be so easy to leave his inhibitions and common sense behind when he was in Ryan’s arms. But- Brendon wasn’t an idiot. Though he was beyond caring about the potential consequences for the two of them as individuals, he did genuinely care about Spencer and Dallon and Ian and Mike and Jon, who had nothing to do with the mess they’d made and didn’t deserve to suffer when the fallout inevitably came. So; the solution. To soften the blow, he threw his arms around Ryan’s neck, stated the rule as plainly as possible and then leaned in to catch him in an apologetic kiss, fingers curling into the back of his hair. With the more serious request out of the way, Brendon drew back to propose a second deal.

You’re cute. So was Ryan’s fucking laugh, but Brendon’s expression turned stormy and his hackles raised, hyperconscious of the possibility of being mocked- until Ryan dated him quickly by drawing his thumb gently over his temple, and he settled like a content feline, blinking up at him affectionately. Sure, if you’re up for the challenge. Challenge. Challenge? Brendon scoffed, pulling back and puffing our his chest, the confidence of a peacock but no substance to back this assuredness of himself and his completed untested abilities. ”Maybe it’s a challenge for you. Just you wait, Rowe, you’ll feel me for days.” That last comment was a joke, alluding to their first encounter of this nature, but even still, he trailed off towards the end, suddenly realising that Ryan had agreed and he’d never expected- or wanted- to get this far. However, because he had more pride than sense, he supposed he’d have to go through with it. Anything for you, baby. His eyes glittered and he surged close to kiss him hastily- that had always been Brendon’s thing, but when Ryan made use of the pet name, it made his heart swell and he finally realised why Ryan always used to looked so affected when he used it.

But... you’re right. Yeah, Ryan, he usually was. You’ll learn someday. Nobody can know, sure. Brendon inhaled, content, then leaned to meet Ryan in the middle, allowing him to take the lead of the kiss and sighing hitchedly when he felt Ryan’s teeth sink gently into his bottom lip. Hey... Brendon made a curious noise but let his eyes fall shut as Ryan pressed kisses along the side of his face. I have... My own rule. Interesting. You have to try not to make me too jealous onstage, ‘kay? Brendon sighed again, deep and breathy, but he was half-laughing until Ryan caught onto his earlobe and leaned them both back. ”Sorry, it’s just me acting out,” He explained. ”See, I’ve just missed you so much.” Pointedly, he pressed his hips forward and grinned, hanging off Ryan’s neck by his arms. ”I really have missed you. Don’t be too jealous of Dallon, he’s too sweet for me anyway.”

/I’m so productive

You'd think, given the way they are now, that as soon as their relationship became anything more like 'lovers,' the problems had ended. Not true at all. Ryan had a habit of being afraid Brendon was unwilling to commit and might make fun of him if he was at all 'romantic' or even acted like they had a level of platonicism when they were around each other, or he was afraid that he might screw things up beyond belief, more than they'd been before, if he made a move, or he was afraid of. Well. Losing that stupid, unspoken, ongoing competition between them - and that fear lasted for a while, oddly enough, despite him not even wanting that competition after Seattle, when it felt like they'd broken a barrier. That habit translated into him running away after soft touches, or waking up in the mornings and leaving before he could be told to, or rushing kisses and looking around lightning quick to make sure they hadn't been caught. As usual, they didn't communicate, and therefore what was largely an effort not to push Brendon too far made him into the hugest asshole alive. It just looked like he was toying with him, using him and not caring, getting jealous for no reason when he brought around real romantic interests like, say, Ian. (Poor guy. To this day Ryan felt bad).

Now, Ryan clearly had no fear of that, wanted to put everything out in the open - of course, not that that was allowed, not when they were living completely different lives than they were before and now Brendon had 'rules' to abide by. Ryan certainly would follow them, but only when it was easy, probably, and only until he managed to get Brendon on his side somehow, which was unlikely but he was still going to hold out hope. If anything, he wanted to stay in contact after tour. It wasn't just the physical relationship he'd missed. His company, his conversations; Brendon was so wonderfully weird, and had the exact humor that Ryan could keep up with and throw back at him, and he became so passionate about some things if you got him on a roll that it was almost intriguing to observe as an outsider. His countenance in general, the air he carried about him, had an effect that Ryan felt like he needed back in his life - when very early on he thought it was something he couldn't stand, now it was a relief to feel again, a stress off his shoulders.

You never know. Ryan smiled fondly. He knew for sure. He'd never been so sure of anything in his life. Brendon was basically a missing half. His, if it wasn't too bold to claim as much. Ryan dropped his shirt, aware of the cold this far back in the venue, still warm this close to Brendon. Y’could’ve gone off me or something. Ryan studied him closely, wondering if he believed that bullshit, and obviously he didn't. Good - they were on the same page. Maybe it was just something about Brendon and he was talking up this 'deep connection' they were supposed to have; nobody 'went off' him. Whatever, Ryan chose to believe his story. He wondered, really, if Brendon had missed him too, the former frontman who practically bullied him through an album or two, then turned their relationship on its head with no prior warning except for vaguely wistful looks and lustful subtext. There was no reason to miss him. Cut out all the good parts, where they woke up in rays of sunlight coming through the window alongside one another, or in the dark nights in hotel rooms where they weren't really doing anything apart from watching a movie or just being in the other's company while they worked, or when they were vulnerable enough to whisper sweet nothing to one another, crammed in someone's bus bunk. Not even that could make up for the bad times, not yet.

It was all still there, under the surface, and Ryan could tell because an innocent comment made Brendon wary, ready to be mocked and throw it back at him like they used to so well. He was sated for half a second before pulling back, affronted, nd Ryan regarded him easily, much more lax. Maybe it’s a challenge for you. Just you wait, Rowe, you’ll feel me for days. Ryan laughed at the reference, shrugging breezily, like he was ready now to test the challenge in question. Kind of was. But they were moving frighteningly fast, even for them. He agreed to the rules, nonetheless, and offered up his own. softening the air even further by pressing more kisses to every inch of skin available. Sorry, it’s just me acting out. Ryan smiled against him, figuring as much. See, I’ve just missed you so much. Sure you have. It replayed in his head, how Brendon had no reason to, and he was almost sullen until Brendon was pressing his hips forward and Ryan forgot every single thought he'd ever had. He buried his face in his shoulder, catching his breath.

I really have missed you. Don’t be too jealous of Dallon, he’s too sweet for me anyway. Ryan paused, pulling his head back up to look at him more carefully, a tiny, fond smile gracing his features. So maybe he did miss him, too. Ryan paused to think, but it was hard - the most coherent he could get was entertaining fantasies, 'what if's, what if they'd stayed together, what if they'd made it work, what if he hadn't run away all the time. The scene became more innocuous the more he dwelled on it, more borderline romantic, and his hands settled on either side of Brendon's face, affectionate as ever. "I thought of you. All the time," he admitted earnestly, chewing his lip. As if he had anything to lose at this point. "Talking until three in the morning, when we had to get up at six. Exploring every new city. 'Soulmates' is a funny concept, I think, but I need you around, Bren."