As much as Ryan’s explosive response to what could be apparently seen as Brendon’s marital infidelity, given the strength of Ryan’s reaction, had died down, Brendon was not buying this new act. It seemed to be an almost resignation to his ridiculous behaviour- but he had stepped over a mark, taken entitlement that Brendon already suspected to a whole new level, like they were exclusive, or committed, or anything beyond two people who sort of barely tolerated eachother who somehow also maintained a sexual relationship on the side. That was all they were, after all, and Brendon apparently hadn’t made that clear until just now; he didn’t think the clarification necessary, partly because there was nothing romantic or dedicated about their physical interactions, partly because he was so sure that Ryan disliked him as a person that he’d never want anything more from him. When Brendon looked back at it, though, it wasn’t even Ryan’s fault. After their night in Brendon’s hotel room, the morning had been another world, like they were two different people, a dynamic with potential. Brendon had been too defensive and too prideful to open his arms out to that, and on that night, he had kicked back into gear, aggravating Ryan on purpose, telling himself that nothing that the two of them had said in the morning was true.

In reality, it wasn’t the madness of two after a spontaneous night together. It was the culmination of feelings neither of them had addressed, neither aloud to eachother or within themselves. Brendon was in complete denial about how much he just wanted Ryan to like him. This was why, when he started avoiding him in a sort of defensive mechanism, he’d felt yearning, an emptiness, loneliness but in a very specific way, lonely for Ryan only. This stayed, naturally, buried deep within his mind, in the part of his brain that whatever sexual encounter they had could not truly unlock. But that was how they communicated- Brendon felt less vulnerable with Ryan while they were being physically intimate than during the rare occasions that they had some sort of brief, meaningful conversation. When the initial spark of aggression or hatred or frustration had melted away, it didn’t go unnoticed. Brendon began to get scared when the initial excitement and pent-up energy of being with Ryan faded away, and passion and anticipation still lingered, the desire to be close to him when the novelty of fucking your arch-enemy was gone.

It was absolutely terrifying, so Brendon tried to move on- to someone different. Not as a rebound, he said in his head, they weren’t exes, he wasn’t even properly breaking whatever they had ‘off’. Ian was kind and funny and handsome, not that Ryan was cruel anymore. Brendon knew cruel- any confrontation they had now lacked spirit, lacked the iciness that he knew Ryan could possess. When he wanted to be, he was fucking ruthless, cold, vindictive, knew just what buttons to press. No longer, though- and it made it even more difficult for Brendon to deal with, because the anger had faded away from him, too. Regardless, Ian- they’d known eachother for a while, only really passing over into non-platonic territory recently, since which Brendon had introduced him to the rest of the band and Ryan had barely lifted his head. Maybe he was just that arrogant. He didn’t look so high and mighty any more- even though Brendon was the one sat down on the lounge sofa, head down, physically vulnerable, Ryan’s energy was of someone exposed, uncomfortable with their previous behaviour. Brendon felt no advantage, though. 

[i]They think I do-[/i] made no fucking sense; if everyone thought it, if thats the energy that Ryan gave in his regard, it might as well be fucking true. Brendon wasn’t interested in hypotheticals or ‘in theory’s. Sounding soft, though, almost small, Ryan’s voice had a certain level of authenticity to it that was unnerving. Brendon looked at him, held his gaze for a few beats, his eyebrows raised slightly with tension, and for a moment he was almost convinced to be a little sympathetic, audibly address that the mess they had made of this was a mutual effort- but the reason in him faded, defiant of his apology because there was so much he’d done that ‘I’m sorry’ didn’t really cover it adequately. [i]I’m- [/i] Brendon didn’t look away as Ryan seemed to fumble with his hands, cover his face briefly. [i]Both. Okay? Both.[/i] That frustration... Textbook Ryan, he thought, swallowing, looking down at his hands, again sort of overcome by his internal struggle between defiance and desire for approval, for affection, from this ridiculous man who was supposed to be [i]good[/i] with words. On paper, anyway. It had never really transferred into real life.

Sort of completely sick of feeling so vulnerable and unfulfilled by Ryan’s half-assed confessions, Brendon pressed his fingertips hard into his eyes, felt the sting of tears ready to betray his already weak display of indifference, feeling like a fucking idiot. He made a very unconvincing comment about inviting Ian back over- he didn’t want that, he just felt like utter shit. He dragged his hands down his face, over his cheekbones until he held onto his own jaw, teeth clenched, shoulders tight, back stiff, all stress and tension. [i]I... I wish you wouldn’t, Brendon, I know it’s not fucking- fair of me or whatever, we never made promises or anything, but. [/i]But what? [b]“And what if I do, huh?”[/b] Brendon said, dropping his arms and holding onto his knees tightly as he looked up to meet Ryan’s eyes again, his own wide and demanding, the defiance undermined by the spikes of his eyelashes, stuck together by the tears he told himself he shouldn’t be shedding over this stupid man. [b]“You gonna put some kind of claim on me before I go? Leave a good fucking mark so everyone knows you’ve got me?”[/b]

[i]But I do have feelings for you. I do, and I don't even know if it's okay - I can't tell whether you hate me or not, either, I just assume you do.[/i] When he’d said that, that Ryan had feelings for him, it was on impulse. Brendon expected to be embarrassed by a loud laugh, or a scoff of indignation. How could Ryan feel anything of substance for him besides any level of dislike? Hearing him say it, though, prove him wrong- it was surreal. His knuckles were white has he clutched onto his own thighs, grounding himself somehow, inspired despite his disbelief by Ryan’s apparent honesty to speak his own piece, maybe in a way that wasn’t as grovelling as he had been in the last half an hour. [b]“I haven’t hated you in a long time,”[/b] He murmured, searching for Ryan’s eyes. [b]“I can’t even convincingly fake it. S’why I- stay away.”[/b] [i]So... you’re the only one. For me.[/i] The useless romantic within him melted a little and he was suddenly overcome with the desire to be held, kissed, proved wrong of all his doubts and suspicions because being so guarded was so exhausting. It wasn’t Brendon. He was meant to love loudly and be loved with just as much noise and attention. [i] If you're going to be with him, I'm sorry, I can't just... I can't do it.[/i] 

There was the proof he had been looking for, he supposed- that Ryan cared about him as a person, as an individual, not just a ‘cheap fuck’ like the role Ryan had assigned Ian very quickly. Brendon didn’t quite know what to say. [i]Ask him back if you want, just tell me if I should get over you now, okay?[/i]

A brief silence followed before Brendon extended his arm out, closed his hand gently around Ryan’s wrist and rugged slightly. [b]“Will you sit with me?”[/b] He asked, in a low voice, a little raw. [b]“I don’t want to ask him back. I- there’s more we need to talk about, I think, uh. It’s really- I’ve spent so long thinking you just wanted me for-“ [/b]Brendon looked down at his feet again, simultaneously very timidly searching for Ryan’s hand after he sat down beside him and holding on, tight, scared he’d just pull away. [b]“Wanted me for, you know.”[/b]