The first time they even met eachother, Brendon had crashed headfirst into a much taller Ryan whom he was to replace as frontman, and Ryan had snapped at him without even hesitating- ‘[i]Who the hell is this guy, what is he fucking doing?’[/i] When Brendon very hesitantly told him who he was, and Ryan realised that [i]this guy[/i] was going to take his place, Brendon never even had a chance to apologise and greet eachother properly because Ryan had cast a betrayed and disbelieving look towards Spencer before turning on his heels and stalking away like some proud, wronged peacock. With terrible posture. Brendon didn’t dislike him immediately- he was just immensely confused. As far as he had been aware, the whole band had supported the idea of him becoming the new frontman. He was told [i]of[/i] Ryan, but not warned about him. He often thought that if maybe he’d asked to actually meet the guy before he knocked him down off his high horse and bruised his apparently very fragile ego, maybe none of this would have happened. Brendon would still be working at a smoothie shack, or something. He used to fantasise about not being constantly trapped on a hot tour bus with somebody who hated his guts, but now- they’d move on a lot. A hell of a lot. He didn’t regret anything. Well- nothing he would admit.

So, they’d changed, but not enough, Brendon supposed. They’d never really been friends- when they weren’t fucking they hated eachother, when they weren’t doing either they were nothing. It wasn’t like they were just friends now, no, things were never that simple with them, but they were certainly learning to become more amicable towards one another. Brendon found he enjoyed Ryan’s company, felt warmth inside of him when Ryan smiled, felt a little leap in his chest whenever Ryan, say, just- said his name in a certain way. The thing was, they’d never learned to properly communicate, like adults. They’d always just been juvenile and antagonistic or they’d fuck to release the tension (marginally) less aggressively. So, though they no longer wanted to knock eachother out, they still hadn’t figured out how to talk about how they were feeling unless they were drunk, it was after 3am or they were crammed together in a bunk surrounded by nothing but the other. Even something they tended to be good at- physical intimacy- was a difficult topic, because Brendon would be [i]asking[/i] for something, and apparently he wasn’t capable of doing that. He had to be difficult about it. 

What they had a lot of practice in, though, was arguing- so when things escalated and became more heated, Brendon was off before the starting gun, defending himself before Ryan had even finished his sentence. The experience shone through there- Ryan didn’t exactly shrink, but he lost confidence in his point and fell silent, the sullenness plain on his face, etched into the lines of his face. Brendon was used to feeling something sick and twisted akin to triumph when he saw Ryan unhappy, it had been like he’d gotten a kick out of it, hardwired to feel so victorious. That malicious part of him had apparently been lost, thank god- all Brendon felt was remorse for being, perhaps unnecessarily forceful about something they were both sensitive about. He wasn’t sure. It wasn’t new, per say- they’d been growing closer, after all. Luckily or unluckily, depending on where each of them stood, Ryan didn’t hold back for long, losing his temper soon after and shoving him against the side of the bus against the cold metal. His oversized shirt had ridden up at the back and a stripe of skin on his lower back was pressed against it- he shivered, but didn’t dare to say anything.

Apparently, he had no dignity left, even if he did look fleetingly over Ryan’s shoulder to make sure they didn’t have some kind of gawking audience, Jon standing there speechless or Spencer ready to pull as many strings as he had to in order to call of the tour, or fans, somehow, who knew what hotel they’d be at it, what if- Well, he met Ryan’s eyes again, and all worry of that was no longer at the forefront of his mind. Brendon could barely look him in the eye when he exhaled his mortifying admission- small steps, he supposed. And Ryan was just- smirking. Daring to make eye contact, Brendon blinked uncertainly, eyes drifting down, down, down, to his mouth, to his chest, down to his waist and beyond, they were barely inches apart. After too long a quiet Brendon opened his mouth impatiently but Ryan didn’t give him chance to speak, moving his hands to find their natural place and then leaning in to kiss him. Brendon was still blinking when their lips met and it took him a second to kick into gear and sigh responsively against his mouth. This was so stupid, they were in a parking lot, they- [i]Yeah. I do. Asshole.[/i] Brendon was grinning breathlessly, chest heaving. But then Ryan backed off just as Brendon felt like getting started. 

[i]Don’t ever fuck with me like that again. [/i]Still recovering, Brendon pressed himself entirely flat against the side of the bus and lifted his shirt at the front to wipe over his face before he dropped his folded his arms low over his chest and stood against the metal at such an angle so his hips jutted out before him. [b]”What’ll you do? Whatever that just was...”[/b] He tilted his head to the side. [b]“I liked that.”[/b] When he started to move over, back to Ryan, eyes dark, the last thing he expected was for Ryan to turn around and- [i]What movie do you wanna watch?[/i] Huh? Laughing that followed started off geniune but trailed off into awkward uncertainty when he realised- Wait, was he serious? [b]”Are you serious? I just told you I wanted you to [i]fuck[/i] me,”[/b] He repeated, disbelieving- and slightly offended. [b]”Like- Well, what can we watch while I’m sitting on your dick?”[/b] He still wasn’t fully sure whether Ryan was pulling his leg. Hm.