As much as the situation sucked, Ryan considered, sometimes, how it might be if he'd stayed. Distance in itself put stress on their relationship - not world-ending, or anything, because they were that deeply connected, it didn't tear them apart like it would others. But he remembered the beginnings of their creative differences, and that was obvious once he'd been able to admit to himself that, yes, Brendon's right, they're going in different directions. They'd verge on this annoying form of arguing, almost correcting one another's opinions and trying to end it on an easy note by tacking on a pet name, or 'I love you,' or something. And then they'd find each other conjuring up ideas all alone, in the depths of the tour bus, not even taking up the ideas with one another but with the other third parties available in the band. It would have gotten much, much worse if they'd stayed how they were. This was... better, all things considered. It was fucking hell having to miss the person you'd chosen to spend your life with almost every night, but it was better than how they would've been. 

Ryan watched him struggle with the coffee machine, wondering how his husband he missed so dearly could switch moods on so short a trigger. Well. It did make sense - he wasn't quite giving him any fairness. He knew how it looked; like he'd snubbed his husband's company in favor of Z's. He really was concerned for him, though, even if he knew Brendon wouldn't believe it for the world. When did Brendon even sleep when he [i]wasn't[/i] home? He knew Brendon's shows went on past midnight more often than not, then he was too kind to dodge fans after the show when they'd waited literal hours to see him (even if Zack told him off every time), then he was too generous to not do something on social media, a live stream, what have you. And [i]then[/i] he loved Ryan too much to leave him without a good night message, a recap of the night, a phone call, a FaceTime, anything. Brendon gave himself to other people too much to ever take the time to himself for something as basic as sleep. Or, from the looks of things, [i]food,[/i] sometimes. Ryan had to practically make feasts every time he came home in an effort to coax him to normalcy.

[i]I’m good, actually.[/i] Ryan frowned a little, watching him move away, and wrung his hands together for a moment before decisively shifting over to the coffee machine himself. While he spoke, he grabbed Brendon's typical mug of choice and poured him some anyway, tossed in sugar and their most ridiculous flavor of creamer, effectively a dessert drink rather than real coffee - pretty much Brendon's style. [i]You know what I get even less of? Time with my husband.[/i] Ryan met his stare, watched him pick the sleeve of (his) sweatshirt, and slid the mug over to him silently. [i]It’d be nice to prioritise that once in a while.[/i] [b]"Brendon..."[/b] he trailed off, shaking his head. Really, he understood. He got it. But. If Brendon really thought he wasn't a priority, Ryan had no idea how to help him. That was so unbelievably far away from being true. He moved closer and Brendon automatically resisted him, turning away and studying their fruit bowl as if it was truly something to behold. 

Ryan continued forward anyway, edging closer to him though all he could see was his back. [i]If you missed me, you would’ve woken me up.[/i] Ignoring his past protests, Ryan wrapped an arm around Brendon, aligning them until his chest was pressed to Brendon's back and he could link his hands around his waist. He tucked his chin in Brendon's shoulder. [b]"I miss you more than anything, and I love you more than life. Too much to let you deprive yourself of sleep any more than you already do."[/b] Ryan lifted a hand to hold the side of his head, turn his face towards him, feeling his forehead. [b]"See, you feel better already. Tell me you didn't need a full night's sleep for once."[/b] He smiled softly, drifting aside until his hip was leaning against the counter, one hand on Brendon's lower back and the other comfortably in his sweatshirt pocket. [b]"Forgive me and kiss me? It feels like it's been years."[/b] Realistically he last kissed him the night previous, or on the forehead this morning, but. Whatever.