Brendon had no idea how much Ryan knew about him- though in his experience, everyone at least knew [i]of[/i] him. He never used to be quite sure why, and neither did he even care- but as he got older he realised that his energy and hyperactivity wasn’t normal, being physically unable to sit still in his chair or focus on some kind of task without being completely overloaded wasn’t just a regular teenage thing. It was stressful and he had mixed feelings about attracting so much attention- in a way he liked it, being noticed, but then it was only surface level, ‘noticing’ as in ‘that guy is so fucking annoying’- and that made him very insecure. The idea that Ryan just thought he was weird was scary and he wasn’t really helping himself by staying with him while Bogart was being groomed, or being so antsy and anxious, or speaking to his dog in such a stupid baby voice. Brendon never used to get this anxious around people until his habits began to get pointed out by those around him- now he did everything he could to suppress it, struggling even then, tapping his fingers nervously, rhythmically against his thigh. 

[i]Just wish I had one.[/i] Snapped out of his train of worry, Brendon smiled slightly, shrugging a shoulder. [b]“Surely you could get one? You know enough.”[/b] [i]My, uh... My dad doesn’t want one.[/i] For once, instead of launching immediately into a mini inquisition about a veiled detail or subject, Brendon actually took heed of the discomfort in his voice and just nodded, vaguely, reaching up with the hand that wasn’t occupied with fidgeting to card through his hair, self conscious all of a sudden. He hadn’t known his- it seemed juvenile to use crush, but it was the only fitting word- would be here, he hadn’t given a shit about how he looked just taking his dog to be groomed, so his hair was a mess, but luckily, thank fucking god he was recently clean shaven. His self consciousness continued even when Ryan complimented him, his singing; Brendon didn’t think himself anything special, so hearing this from someone who wasn’t just a teacher who had to say that made him embarrassingly happy, but he tried to play it off. Return the compliment. Draw attention away from himself because he didn’t think much was appealing other than his appearance- which today wasn’t too impressive either.

Unfortunately, he didn’t realise until too late that complimenting a near-stranger on their singing was odd, because he really shouldn’t have heard enough to make that call, especially considering Ryan very rarely sang. [i]Thank[/i] you. He swallowed, wondering if Ryan was making fun of him and mumbling his thoughts accidentally aloud to Bogart, luckily under his breath and thankfully too quietly for Ryan to hear him. [i]Don’t say that.[/i] The command in Ryan’s voice straightened his spine a little, and he looked up from his little dog, and was met by Ryan’s startlingly level gaze, stuck in his thoughts between ‘they’re so pretty’ and ‘I’m a little intimidated right now’. [i]Even if it was true, you fucking [/i]kill [i]in there, so. I mean, you’re the best in the class. I’m not kidding. It wouldn’t be the worst thing to ‘only be good at’.[/i] They hadn’t broken eye contact the entire time and Brendon was halfway ecstatic with the attention, halfway terrified by the plainness of his tone, like it was so easy to say. Brendon felt himself relax, his jaw soften, his shoulders drop- and he grinned, fully, starting small and understated but growing quickly, bright with appreciation and newfound confidence.

Brendon folded his arms across his chest, holding onto his own bicep with one arm, almost grounding himself. More brazen now, rejuvenated by positive response, he felt that odd little bud of narcissism open a little. [b]“You really think so?”[/b] [i]I joined 'cause I thought it'd get me into a real band, somehow. I'm an idiot. So far I've got Spencer and he can only kind of play drums. You know him?[/i] Almost immediately, Brendon’s eyebrows rose, as he looked down at Bogart, petted his head gently and scratched behind his ears. A real band... he was familiar with the passing fantasy. [b]“I know of him,”[/b] He murmured in a low voice, wondering suddenly whether Spencer could provide some insight, maybe tell him if Ryan even. Played for his team, so to speak. There was no point getting so flustered over him otherwise, he told himself... [b]“You have a name? For your. Two man band.”[/b]