My hindsight is impeccable and when I look back on mine and Ryan’s relationship, the more-than-platonic way we interacted with one another became clear, staring me in the face, mocking me for not being able to admit it then and only realising too late that the feelings I had (have) for him did not correlate with being... just friends. When I was developing my skills as a lyricist I looked to Ryan for help; not just because he was the most superior out of all of us, like I used to tell myself, but because I valued his opinion the most. He was gentle with me, and we had complimentary personalities, and I always stole the seat next to him in whatever situation, interviews, for example, whenever I could. I held his hand even in public just to make sure he had something solid and present to hold onto, to anchor him physically and emotionally. 

Obviously, our relationship went further than just holding hands, something that started maybe a year into meeting eachother, a little less, perhaps. We weren’t even drunk- we’d had a drink each, at the point where we simply had increased confidence, and I’d playfully insulted him, and he’d said ‘suck my dick’, and I’d said ‘sure’; and it was so funny, so funny that I burst out laughing and got onto my knees and he was laughing too, and I unzipped his jeans much more surely than I probably should have but at that point it was just a funny joke. Then some kind of barrier dissolved, our laughter faded away, I looked up into his eyes and it wasn’t funny anymore. Afterwards, I felt much less awkward than I had expected to feel. We just joked about it, laughing, saying ‘imagine if we were actually gay’, and it was supposed to be a one time thing but then the next evening we were alone again and he kissed me. Things just kind of went in from there indefinitely.

It’s bizarre how much I remember, how apparently significant that memory is to me. Here we are, ten years later, and we’re both being playful, like the decade we have experienced completely apart is void, and we’re toeing the line at flirting just as we did so many times all around the world on tour buses and in dressing rooms and and hotel suites. Just like back then, we don’t dare at ask ‘hey, what’s going on here’? I don’t want to ask any real questions. I want to enjoy his company, the company I knew I missed but the absence of which I only now realise affected me so fucking much. I don’t miss him like a friend should- even a best friend. He smiles at me and I melt a little, time of no consequence, the only thing mattering that he is here and so am I and we are together again and what the fuck is anybody going to do about it?

[i]Sure. We’ll see if it’s all you imagined.[/i] I want to laugh at that, shoot back a smart comment, but the weight behind his words... I don’t know if I’m reading into it too much, so I say nothing instead and just smile faintly, wistfully. If only. We are nothing like I imagined, so I’m expecting to be wrong.

[i]You’re predictable, too. I bet you haven’t driven it more than a few miles.[/i] The accuracy of that judgement is startling and I pout a little, caught out, nudging him in the shoulder playfully. [i]”I don’t even leave my house, Ry, so you’re damn right.”[/i] [i]Get your own, Blake. I knew you were after my car this whole time.[/i] [b]”Okay, okay, so we won’t trade- I’ll buy it from you, it can join my Tesla in being a car I have just for the sake of it, because I’m too lazy to leave my home.”[/b] I pause. [b]”Seriously, come over anytime, guarantee I’ll be in.”[/b] Crazy how we live in the same state, convenient.

I know people want to talk to me but I don’t particularly care. Surely they understand the significance of me and Ryan being together- the idea that people might be whispering about exactly that both terrifies and excites me. [i]I believe it. When we went platinum you were still drinking Capri-sun. You’ve always been pretty humble.[/i] [b]”Well, yeah. I was a good boy.”[/b] A pause, and I’m about to say something like ‘I was underage, I had to drink something’, but instead I make a comment more open to interpretation. [b]”You know that better than anyone.”[/b] He’s saying my name but the music is being cranked up and people’s voices rise in excitement, and suddenly  his hand is behind my lower back and he’s leading is back out of the front door. [i]C’mon. I promised you a tour.[/i]  He did. And because I am stupid, I let it happen.

His car really is gorgeous and I admire it as we walk closer, brushing my hand along the hood and then laughing as Ryan makes a grand gesture about opening the door and presenting the interior to me. [i]I know. I’m[/i] very [i]cool.[/i] [b]”You are. Hey, how much was this thing?”[/b] I ask, walking around to stand too close to him and peer inside, my eyebrows drawing together, impressed. [i]You can have a seat if you’d like.[/i] Without waiting for him to change his mind, I immediately climb into the back, settling against the leather seats, still grinning. [i]I’d invite you to take it for a test drive, but if memory serves, you’re kind of an awful driver, and I haven’t updated my will.[/i] Should’ve expected that, really. Ten years on and he’s still bullying me about my driving. Nothing had changed. [b]”It’s a good job I make up for it in other areas. You gonna sit?”[/b]