In Brendon’s opinion, he didn’t have a drinking problem, nor did he even have a problem drinking- he just liked to [i]enjoy[/i] himself, let go, have fun, worry about it later- or never. These days, Ryan was doing the worrying for him, the worrying he’d never bothered to do for himself. And since he wasn’t used to people caring so much about his questionable habits (or they were intimidated by a playboy brat and didn’t want to criticise for fear of rebuke/losing favour), it did get a little too much sometimes when Ryan sighed exasperatedly when he said he was going out at like, 3am, just because he didn’t really understand. He’d lived a lot of his life like this and had been surrounded by the same crowd his whole life- reckless little privileged teenagers who had grown into reckless little privileged adults. Though Ryan was the man who knew him and loved him best, he came from outside of that scene, way outside. Hell, he barely even drank himself. That never bothered Brendon, he just didn’t quite get it. But he’d let Ryan get on with his own thing on the condition that Ryan let him get on with his.

Sure, he was an asshole when he was drunk. He’d been told that by hundreds of people. But it was [i]fun[/i], and it wasn’t like he was doing it every night, not even really that close- so he did it, went out, partied, the king of the scene, almost, the spoiled prince, and then was chauffeured or carried home by either Gabe, Ryan, or someone that his father had paid to keep an eye on him and make sure he didn’t get mugged, or something. The only issue was there was that Brendon was always, shall we say, [i]frisky[/i] when he was intoxicated- at least, when Ryan was within view and reach. Ryan, regrettably, refused to even engage with his drunken flirting when he was [i]really[/i] gone. Which sucked, but not enough for Brendon to not get absolutely wasted. There would always be other times with Ryan, always, he concluded, and continued to go out in the evenings til the early mornings with a sound mind. Some nights weren’t even that bad, Brendon could handle himself, Ryan was more amused than anything by his princess of a boyfriend, they went to bed after some coaxing from Ryan and woke up to deal with Brendon’s relatively mild hangover. It was a routine. Brendon never thought to ask if Ryan was actually happy with it- nobody else he’d been close to had ever called it into question. So, that was- well, just Gabe.

Last night, though, had been one of those nights where Brendon and just come completely undone, a hot mess, having lost shoes and other items of clothing throughout the night, his childminder Ryan having lost count of how many drinks he’d consumed so far. Luckily, Brendon was a happy drunk, amongst other traits. He rambled on to Ryan about places they should visit and things they should do until he was falling asleep on the stool and Ryan took advantage of his pliancy to guide him away from the bar, final drink forgotten, and into the back of his chauffeured car so they could go back to Brendon’s apartment and make sure his hangover wasn’t [i]too[/i] unbearable. It wasn’t. Brendon had endured a lifetime of hangovers and it wasn’t even the worst one he’d had, not even recently, not even close. The only difference was that Ryan had been his supervisor, not some detached employee. Ryan, his boyfriend, the man who loved him. But that wasn’t [i]Brendon’s[/i] fault. He expected Ryan to just be like ‘here we go again’ and carry on as normal, tease him in the morning about the things he did the night previous that he couldn’t remember. But when he woke up, Ryan was noticeably quiet. Brendon chose to ignore it.

He was rooting through the cupboards looking for a snack when he heard Ryan speak. They’d been awake for a few hours and though the air wasn’t [i]tense,[/i] something was up, the room was slightly unsettled when they fell into a silence that they usually didn’t mind. Brendon had woken up with painkillers, water and coffee on his bedside table and he’d texted Ryan to tell him he was awake- Ryan had almost immediately wandered in and Brendon offered him a charming, grateful grin. They’d murmured the usual automatic ‘I love you’s and shared a chaste, brief, sleepy kiss. Brendon smiled against his lips, but Ryan had pulled back before Brendon could drag him back into bed, and excused himself. About half an hour later Brendon had gotten dressed into just some clean underwear and a hoodie of Ryan’s he’d pulled from his collection, and since then they’d just been hanging out in the kitchen, a lazy and odd lull over their heads. Until Ryan started to talk, with purpose behind his tone. [i]Brendon, baby.[/i]

Those two words together could mean a lot of things for Brendon. Usually, it was just to get his attention. Sometimes it was particularly loving and affectionate, sometimes passionate, but then- it could be like that, serious, quiet, and Brendon recognised it, knew Ryan was about to either say some irrelevant or dumb or pointless shit that Brendon didn’t need to hear. So he immediately stopped rooting through the cupboards and dropped his hands to his sides, dropping onto his heels again as he’d been straining to reach the top shelf. He didn’t turn around, just stared exasperatedly into the open cupboard. [b]”Ryan, darlin’?”[/b] Came his patient response, a moment before he shut the cupboard and turned around, leaning with the small of his back against the edge of the counter. [i]Here we go.[/i] Brendon ran a hand through his persistent bedhead and blinked at him expectantly.

[i]Last night- you probably don’t remember, but... it didn’t look good.[/i] Charming. Brendon raised his eyebrows, unimpressed by that choice of vocabulary. But now he knew what Ryan was about to say and he was sick of this conversation already. [i]When you drink like that... you have no idea how worried it makes me.[/i] Brendon stared at his boyfriend who in turn was staring into his coffee. Honestly, he was so [i]sick[/i] of fucking [i]lectures.[/i] He’d done just fine without Ryan before this, he was still alive, for God’s sake. Ryan suddenly thought Brendon was going to die of alcohol poisoning or something. Though he was immediately defensive, he said nothing, just inhaled sharply and folded his arms tightly across his chest, challenging Ryan to meet his gaze. [b]”Jesus, not this again. Ryan, im fine. Look at me. Do I look like an alcoholic or whatever you think I am? Fuck.”[/b]

[i]I mean. It makes me wonder, y’know, why you need to go that far.[/i] [b]”Fuck off,”[/b] Brendon groaned instantly, dragging his hands down either side of his face and turning around to bend over, plant his elbows firmly on the counter and drop his head. [b]”I don’t need to. I want to.”[/b] He straightened and turned around, jaw clenched. [b]”Just leave me alone about it, alright?”[/b] He snapped testily. [i]It’s scary.[/i] [b]”You know what’s [i]scary[/i],”[/b] He exclaimed, not thinking, just saying. [b]”You’re just like goddamn [i]Shane[/i]. Trying to motherfucking control me, it’s fucking bullshit.”[/b]