Brendon was so... out of touch with reality. Which was strange, because. Out of the two of them, Brendon had probably suffered the most difficult life so far- struggling to pay rent in the middle of New York, supporting both himself and his recovering alcoholic best friend, nursing the beginnings of an alcohol problem and being consecutively fired from all his jobs within a short amount of time. Ryan, however, though he knew all about being a broke student, had been richer than Brendon could ever have dreamed for a good few years now, and was living out in the countryside in his overgrown mansion, alone. At least, until Brendon arrived. Thinking about this, Brendon darkly thought that it should be Ryan who was so lost in ridiculous fantasy.

But no. It was Brendon who, when things had been going so well, they were best friends, he was earning more than enough money to support himself, and he’d been living in a freaking mansion for the past year, had told his literal [i]employer[/i] that he was [i]in love with him.[/i] Which, in theory, was already bad- but when Ryan hadn’t even [i]replied[/i], fuck. Brendon felt his heart stop when Ryan just stared at him, eyes wide, steely-faced , unsure, awkward. God, and he had every right to be uncomfortable- brendon was disillusioned. He hadn’t been in a proper relationship in years and now the first man he took a shine to he claimed to be in love with. He was that deprived of attention and affection that he latched on to this poor man and ruined more than almost a year of friendship by telling him that he [i]loved him.[/i]

Brendon truly hated himself for it- and for the first time in a long time since meeting Ryan Rowe, he felt incredibly, torturously lonely. He’d blown yet another opportunity due to his volatile and unstable emotional and mental state, and it’s not even like it was just his own life he had fucked up- Spencer was relying on this income, and now, when he was undoubtedly fired or ‘let go’ or told awkwardly that his services were no longer needed (which, technically, they hadn’t been for a while, because Ryan was onto a new series already), he had screwed Spence over, too. Although, Brendon was going to be selfish anyway- he had decided, about 30 seconds after telling Ryan he loved him, that since it went unacknowledged, he was going to leave on his own accord because it’s not like he could pretend that didn’t happen. 

After he had made a hasty, choked excuse to leave Ryan where he stood, dumbfounded, he had escaped to his bedroom, climbing onto his bed and drawing himself in close to the headboard, resting his head back against it with a long, drawn-out sigh. A few minutes of shaky breathing and intense self hatred gave way into lack of surety- was he even really in love, like he claimed? Was it just years of romantic deprivation that lead him to think having a close friend meant falling in love? In thinking this, he was more trying to convince himself that his brain was just playing tricks, he didn’t know what love was, he didn’t recognise that it was just admiration and friendship. But. Brendon came to conclusion that he really was in love when he decided he was going to leave and at that moment is heart felt hollow and it ached dully. Having an unrequited love hurt more than Brendon conjuring up feelings that weren’t real.

He was still on his bed, his face damp and warm. After a few moments he stood and headed towards the en-suite bathroom, hand scrabbling clumsily for the light switch as he stood in front of the mirror and stared at his reflection, eyes bloodshot, mouth dry and cracked. No wonder Ryan didn’t feel the same way, fuck. He was a constant mess. Brendon curled his fingers punishingly in his own hair and grimaced- it was greasy, he’d been hiding it under a hat for too long and now it felt like a fat fryer. Lovely. Sniffing, he pulled his shirt over his head and stripped down the rest of his clothes, before getting into the shower and standing under the hot water, trying to wash away the tension in his muscles.

Twenty minutes later and he was out. He wrapped a towel around his waist and pushed his wet hair back out of his eyes before walking back out into his bedroom. Brendon was about to drop the towel but then there was a knock at his door and he swallowed the lump in his throat as it tightened and closed up. Was it Ryan, telling him to leave? Or would he have to tell Ryan he was going to leave? He didn’t know what would hurt more. After a second wondering whether he should get dressed first, he decided he didn’t have the energy and just walked over to his bedroom door, knuckles going white on the handle as he took a deep breath. Then he opened the door, and tried to meet Ryan’s eyes, but. His gaze ended up fixed on the floor. [b]”Yeah?”[/b] He said, intending his voice to be clear and strong, but it came out more of a submissive whisper.