Of course Ryan didn’t just care about [i]sex.[/i] In fact, out of every major benefit of being in a romantic and committed relationship, that was the least important thing to Ryan- which, to someone like Brendon, [i]very[/i] in tune with his own sexuality, was frustrating sometimes. But, hey, it wasn’t like he was some celibate. Brendon’s energy and passion tended to rub off on people, and- he and Ryan were head over heels in love and hopelessly attracted to one another. As different as they were, things worked- though admittedly they’d had to try hard, because nothing was ever simple, and love alone doesn’t necessarily make a relationship healthy and functioning. But being as in love with one another as they were, it made it so much easier to try and Brendon had [i]so[/i] much to lose now, a wonderful man who loved him unconditionally and held him at night and wrote him dumb messages in the fogged-up mirror and made him feel irreplaceable. Yet here he was, accusing him of only caring about fucking, for no reason other than that he was too proud and defiant to accept that some of his behaviour wasn’t healthy or appropriate.

And Brendon had compared to Ryan to [i]Shane[/i]- just because he knew it would get to him, even if he didn’t show it, and just because it was the worst insult he could think of because Shane had really been that bad. Not just an asshole ex, he’d been [i]abusive[/i]; Ryan, his loving and sweet and astounding boyfriend was nothing like him and he didn’t deserve such a low blow, especially when it was so ridiculously far from being accurate. Everything Ryan had said so far was right and Brendon was too trapped in his own fantasy world where nobody cared enough about his health to tell him that maybe drinking [i]that[/i] much, or maybe that getting off his head right before a family dinner [i]wasn’t[/i] a good idea. All his life he’d just been enabled and now here his man was, perfectly acceptably expressing concern and carefully criticising the way Brendon actively chose to spend his spare time. He didn’t have an addiction of any kind. He just didn’t know what ‘excess’ meant and he didn’t care enough about himself to do anything potentially harmful in moderation.

So, really, Ryan was well within reason, deciding not to compromise and instead just making the move to leave, because Brendon was being a dickhead and negotiating with him thus far, trying to get through to his proud little mind, was proving difficult. So it was understandable- but Brendon, right now, worked up and sensitive and dramatic, saw it as some kind of drastic draw of the line, panicked when he saw that Ryan was serious and hoped desperately that this wasn’t a breakup, it was just a fight, all couples had those, right, it wasn’t a big deal. But Ryan was collecting his belongings that were strewn casually around Brendon’s apartment and it was a big deal and Brendon’s eyes had widened, he shrank in on himself, drawing his hands further back into the sleeves of the hoodie he was wearing, his mouth pursing into a small pout as he watched Ryan clear out evidence of their relationship. Now terrified, he asked if Ryan was for real, but kept his voice relatively steady.

There was no answer- just an eyebrow raise, and Brendon’s eyes darted across his face urgently, trying to figure out what that meant when Ryan had turned again to pick up another jacket. [i]You told[/i] me [i]to leave.[/i] Brendon scowled. [b]”You brought it up first,”[/b] He mumbled. [i]I don’t wanna come back ‘til you’re ready to suck up your pride.[/i] It seemed that Ryan was going to be gone for a while because Brendon almost retched at the thought of swallowing his pride. [i]I’m sick of being the one to compromise.[/i] Now trying to push away the increasingly powerful feeling of heartbreak, which sort of felt like someone was hacking at his heartstrings with a cleaver, Brendon stiffened and drew his eyebrows in and figured that being meaner was the only way to keep his walls up about this. Ryan was breaking up with him, this was the worst thing ever. So he demanded Ryan’s key.

They stared at eachother for a long moment, both of them clearly miserable and angry and hating this but Brendon stubbornly not apologising and Ryan (rightfully so) not compromising- but then Ryan’s keys were flashing in his hands and Brendon had closed his fingers around the cold metal pressed against his palm. He didn’t look at it, just shoved it into his pocket hastily. There was a beat but then Ryan was shoving the stack of work and papers into his arms and Brendon was too stunned to refuse taking them- he just stared at the stack, then back up at Ryan, and swallowed. What an abrupt, horrible end to their relationship, if- [i]Is that all?[/i] Brendon could tell he wanted him to move so he stepped aside, steadying himself against a wall, trying not to shake with frustration and upset. [b]”Is that it, then? Are you- we’re breaking up?”[/b] Just this morning they’d been curled up in bed together, Brendon pressing lazy kisses along Ryan’s collarbone and Ryan tracing patterns into his hips. This fucking [i]sucked.[/i] [b]”I- get out.”[/b]