jakob

don’t come bitchin’ to me || b&r

They hadn't been on stage for a while before this new tour and Ryan found that it was just as anxiety inducing as usual. Brendon, however, had thrown him a few suggestions, and he figured if Brendon was always comfortable with the routine then his advice would be best. Make yourself feel as prepared as possible was the gist of the first piece of advice - it made sense, considering Ryan felt dumb and out of place and wrong whenever he stepped foot on stage. So this time around he practiced engaging with the crew, understanding how the show would be set up, or he'd go to tech to discover what the mechanics of it all would be. He usually spent his time locked away in a dressing room or linked at the hip with Brendon (or both), but getting to know what was going to happen over the next hour or so was probably a good idea. When he did, it really was almost a weight off his shoulders, and now he wouldn't feel like he was in the eye of the storm whenever crew members circled around him to trade out instruments.

Making himself unnecessarily busy was all well and good until he realised he kind of missed spending the prep time with his husband, expending nervous energy before the set or just curling up together in full costume while people bustled around them actually working. It was practically his favourite part of it all, even more than their romance onstage ('cause the bad part of that was the feeling of hundreds of eyes on him, give or take). He tried to stay away, though, to avoid distraction, at least until they were closer to the actual playing portion of all of this. Brendon found him eventually, lucky for Ryan, and he grinned over his work of retuning the guitar, completely missing any prompting he might have been expressing through body language alone. Brendon did not seem to be too happy about that. Ryan sort of worried over his strings for a few moments before traipsing after him, slinging his guitar strap over his shoulder and sending a puzzled glance in his direction before bowing his head, focusing on his instrument rather than the stadium of people.

Brendon's second piece of advice: try not to get caught up in everything else; just play. It was especially useful for Ryan, who constantly got distracted staring at the numbers of people before him, or who'd look to Brendon for comfort only to stare at him for the rest of the show and consequently miss cues. So he did his best with that, fixing his gaze only on his hands and where his pick landed, careening up to the mic when he registered that he was supposed to be backup in the moment. Sometimes he saw from his periphery Brendon approaching, or Brendon gesturing to him in some way, and he smiled a little to himself but otherwise didn't try to approach him in case it threw him off. Maybe that was more a testament to Brendon's abilities - he was just so intriguing that he caught and held the attention of someone he'd known forever, someone who should be used to it. Either way, Ryan was pretty weak. He just banked on the possibility that maybe someday he could play well and actually be all stage-performative with his husband at the same time.

When he heard new tones to songs he thought he knew well he shot Brendon curious looks, always clandestine to avoid prompting him over, but he was shocked to say the least - it's like Brendon wanted to burn out on the first leg. But Ryan was more concerned with how he even managed to pull it off so well... He pushed it aside in favor of sticking to what he'd promised himself to: actually focusing on playing. It became harder to do the more he saw Brendon moving around, leaping from set pieces and recklessly jumping down before the barrier, getting dangerously close to breaking through to them before security finally caught him. That threw Ryan so off guard that he really did miss several notes while he moved to the edge of the stage, nearly pushing his guitar aside like he was preparing to go after him but for the most part staring wide-eyed from stress. As soon as the bodyguard dragged Brendon back up on stage, looking comically small in his arms, Ryan backed up, resisting the urge to help him up because he was more than just irritated about his carelessness.

So his husband had a death wish. Nothing new about that, really, but Ryan still twisted their mics aside while a brief intermission took place, leaning in to speak with him in a tone of warning. "You're going to hurt yourself, calm down," was really all he could manage in the short time frame, but it didn't matter - Brendon was already off, ready to start with Sins. Ryan was definitely watching him now, at least looking over every once in a while to make sure he hadn't gravely injured himself or wasn't about to, only to find that he'd apparently adopted a new fun habit. Clothes were coming off, it seemed, and that wasn't quite surprising given the song choice, but eventually Brendon strode over to Dallon, enticing as ever, and at first Ryan figured it was just an act while he held the mic between them. But he made it clearly visible: they’d kissed. Well, more accurately, Brendon kissed Dallon, and then Dallon looked appropriately shocked. Mostly, Ryan wasn’t sure which of them he was going to throw his guitar at or whether he should do it now or later. Given the outright laughter, Brendon was the right choice, and ‘now’ was probably good, too. When Brendon backflipped off the stage soon after, Ryan didn’t bother sticking around past watching him land safely - he handed his guitar off and went off stage as quickly as possible.

It probably wasn’t even really his place to get upset about Brendon’s safety, because Brendon was in charge of that himself and he wasn’t seven, so. He didn’t need anyone taking care of him as much as Ryan felt he had to. The kiss, though. He knew Brendon wasn’t being, like, unfaithful or whatever it might signify, but the kiss made it clear there was a common link between all of his antics. He was definitely just trying to rile Ryan up, for God knows what reason. Ryan thought back to when he just smiled at Brendon and Brendon did a 180, walking straight away, just before the set. Was that the beginning or had he done something wrong before that? Seemed pretty trivial. Also, not worth getting poor Dallon involved. Nothing was. Dallon had put up with a lot of their shit all their lives, and this definitely wasn’t the worst stunt pulled on him, but Ryan thought they’d been doing pretty well not bothering him lately. He mourned the clean streak just as much as he agonized over that hell of a show.

He was silent, made no sound after he’d given the crew flat ‘goodbye’s, just stared anywhere he wasn’t looking at Brendon. He figured if he did interact with him, Brendon would just try to piss him off again, and they knew each other way too well for him to not succeed in an attempt. So Ryan stayed closed off as long as he could - until they were in the hotel room. He probably could’ve continued the silent treatment had Brendon not spoken up first. Why are you fuckin’ miserable? That crowd was awesome. Ryan had barely shrugged his jacket off, and he turned with his arms still half in the sleeves to look at Brendon incredulously. Thinking maybe he’d have to find someone else in the band less volatile to share a room with anyway, Ryan shrugged the fabric back over his shoulders, moving closer to Brendon. ”I don’t care about the crowd,” he snapped, in what was a mostly low, controlled voice. ”I care about you apparently having some kind of death wish. I thought we talked about you being so reckless before - you know how much that scares me, Brendon.” His voice gradually betrayed him more, the stressed edge becoming more obvious as he spoke. ”Why were you even doing all that? And - whatever you’re mad about, I really don’t see why you thought it’d be fine to drag Dallon into it, by the way.” He tried not to get into too much detail about how the kiss bothered him a ridiculous amount in spite of the security he felt in their relationship, ‘cause, well. He already kind of looked like the crazy overreacting side of this anyway.

seated and sweating || b&r

Ryan wished distantly that there was a way to jump ahead in time, to a point where they didn't have to go to different apartments with different friends and try to meet again without interference. He was sure he couldn't leave with Brendon or vice versa, anyway; Ryan knew at least Spencer would be very much against the reunion and they had a better chance explaining themselves sometime that wasn't late in the night, when everyone had had a few drinks. That went hand in hand with the 'different friends' issue - they were now in distinctly separate social circles, like they'd gotten divorce and their kids all had to pick sides, or whatever. Ryan at least would be glad to bring everything together again, but he wasn't sure how quickly others would adapt to it.

Mostly, though, Ryan was disappointed that the possibility of them instantly joining each others' lives again was slim. Brendon was probably busy with the band, Ryan had picked an apartment slightly out of the way, there were people to get around unless they were going to be open about getting back together - it was messy. If they had only one night and no other meeting planned in the foreseeable future, he'd try to fit everything in all at once, no regard for how appropriate it might be for some theme party. And in the kitchen, no less, although it was marginally better than their previous location just on the outskirts of all the action. Ryan considered the fact that Gabe had a huge house with probably at least five rooms that would suit their need for some space away from the party itself... but they probably wouldn't appreciate that. And he didn't trust himself to remember to actually leave the place if they got comfortable. So maybe he was a little desperate.

Anyway. Ryan couldn't plan out their future or whatever - not that he was so concerned about anything beyond a handful of weeks - right here, not when he was determined to spend their limited time properly. Without really being conscious of what he was actually doing, Ryan's apparent first choice was to leave a reminder on Brendon's skin, purple and red and kind of obvious against the pale canvas. At first Brendon was too distracted to care, and Ryan realized he probably should have, like, asked first, or something, once Brendon woke up from his daze to actually feel his bruise, not looking particularly pleased about the placement. Yes. Ryan tried not to laugh at the weight of his tone, instead suppressing it behind a grin.

Deciding he really didn't have the same concerns as Brendon, he let his gaze drop to his mouth, watching him briefly catch his lip. That’s fuckin’ high. What was the ulterior motive? He made a show of trying to adjust Brendon's shirt collar to hide it, smoothing down the suit jacket that rose with it all the same. Amused, Ryan shrugged a shoulder, giving up on his endeavor. "Thought you'd see it later and think of me," he said contemplatively, although he was fairly certain neither of them would need a reminder. In fact Ryan's mind would likely not drift anywhere else over the next week - but that was assuming they didn't get to make another memory. When it seemed Brendon wasn't too upset about the matter Ryan had already started painting a little constellation of kisses against his skin, utterly out of place when they'd acted with such urgency moments before.

He didn't think the gesture was anything particularly special, but Brendon's reaction said otherwise. I love you. Ryan was thrown off for a moment, watching him move away with a sort of awed fondness, and he realized this was the first time in months either of them had said that to each other. It felt so natural and easy, but given the time, the meaning was so much heavier, and it took him a beat to regain his voice. "I love you," he echoed, quieter, speaking almost into Brendon's hair before tipping his head back to give him easier access. Fuck, I never stopped. He laughed softly, breathlessly, and was tilting his head back down just as Brendon pressed a kiss to the corner of his mouth, just as off-center as Ryan tended to be. It occurred to him that he had plenty to say, plenty of things he wanted to do, but more than that, Brendon had his full, undivided attention when he was talking this way. So all he could do was listen, charmed, his jaw a little slack.

This is like fucking... the cabin, all over again. My feelings for you have remained consistently the same. Ryan was a little startled by his clarity but it was completely fitting, an accurate description of his own feelings. He nodded just slightly, still virtually immobilized by the sudden change in mood. "I know what you mean," he said as casually as he could, a half-smile playing on his lips. "And you just keep giving me reasons to love you more." Like, right now, for example. It's not like Brendon starved him of these kinds of moments and that was the reason for his surprise - it's just. It'd been a while, and in that while, this was exactly the sort of thing he'd imagine and daydream about. It was in the midst of a party, no less, although Ryan had forgotten all about their surroundings some time ago.

All of the tiny centimeters of space between them disappeared and still Ryan didn't feel like they could be close enough. He melted into the kiss, relying completely on Brendon's guidance because at this point he'd lost the capability to think or function at all. I love you. Ryan's brain struggled to turn back on and somewhere in there he was thinking about every invitation he'd ever declined, so glad that this wasn't one, and also he'd have to thank Gabe later with, like, the contents of his bank account. He let their foreheads rest together for a second, smiling, before pulling back, taking his features in again as if he hadn't been looking the entire night. I’ve missed you, and I talk too much too. Ryan laughed again, briefly and almost silently, shaking his head. "I could listen forever. I love you so much," he answered, warmth flooding him before he realised he was probably dumbly blushing. He couldn't really muster up the energy to care, though.

The hand in Brendon's hair dropped, joining the other at the small of his back, and he sort of swayed both of them, his lips pressed to Brendon's forehead for a long moment before he could bring himself to pull back. "I don't know how we survived. Actually - I think I died and you brought me back to life tonight." He cracked up a little, tilting his head to one side and studying Brendon again, unable to stop smiling.

seated and sweating || b&r

It's not like Ryan anticipated a truly in-depth discussion on their relationship, but with the amount of reassurance he needed, it must've seemed that way. He didn't want to hear reasons for the split or anything, and he didn't really want to talk about his own feelings on the matter beyond 'I missed you.' Rather, Ryan was trying to lock in the premise of them meeting again - and soon. Being surface-level honest, making certain they were on the same page, made it seem more definite, in his mind. But he knew to quickly condense his thoughts into the basics, even moreso when his impatience with himself levelled with Brendon's. Ryan's half-assed effort to ignore Brendon deliberately urging him on, pressing his hips closer, was failing him; his expression changed quickly, simultaneously caught off-guard and determined all the same.

The tactic apparently worked, though, because it was moments later that he really got to the point, and Brendon's response was probably going to play in his head on loop for-fucking-ever. He was dragged back in to virtually the same feelings he had when he first saw Brendon, or when they were at the cabin, and all he could do was reminisce on the scenario. For the former he mostly was just obsessed with the image of Brendon singing his lyrics perfectly, or the sight of him by the tour bus, flushed from the energy expenditure but beautiful in the calm of evening around them. In the latter: seeing Brendon from afar, consumed by writing, so peaceful in his surreal surroundings before he realised Ryan had come outside; or, more obviously, how he sounded when he said 'I think I'm in love with you,' vaguely anxious like there was even a slight possibility Ryan might not reciprocate. And now, as if taking a mental snapshot, he committed to memory how everything seemed to just slow down at the simple words 'I've never been so sure of something in my life,' how it felt to breathe again.

He had a brief internal struggle, knowing he wanted to be close to Brendon again and cover as much area as he could but unsure where to start, and his hands quickly seemed to decide for him. He held onto Brendon's with one of them for a few fulfilling moments until Brendon's hands were occupied at his hips, and, okay, yeah, that was a better idea. There was enough of a wait between his switch from Brendon's lips to his neck, apparently, for Brendon to be on the verge of complaint, but luckily Ryan was no longer on a time-wasting vendetta. In fact, he was so nice that he didn't even laugh all smugly when Brendon was immediately responsive, his breathing hitched for a split second. You’re fucking- evil. Ryan smoothed a hand flat over the small of Brendon's back, almost protectively keeping him close, and hoped that maybe time would be cool and just stop for a while.

"Am I," he asked flatly although he'd definitely meant it to be a question, mostly filling the time while he pulled away to examine his work. Maybe he shouldn't embarrass Brendon too much - one would probably do. The hand cradling Brendon's head shifted low enough for him to run his thumb over the red-purple skin, and it was sorta funny juxtaposed with his bowtie, full tux getup. Except for the fact that when he looked at Brendon in general it suddenly really wasn't funny at all. He tried not to look too enamoured when Brendon's hands slipped over his waist, then ended up securing around him against the counter, because the intimacy - especially after a near-completely empty period - was so welcomed. And Ryan was maybe a little overly romantic about it all once his 'evil' practices were ignored; he kept opting for whatever position was closest to an embrace when he could, drew comforting circles with his thumb wherever his hands landed.

I missed this, too. Oh, an understatement. Ryan's immediate response was to briskly nod, sounding breathless even when only a short amount of time had passed. Helpless to what was now just a reflex to him, Ryan gave in to the urge to kiss him again, more chaste. "You're always better at it," he reflected, and then grinned. "I tend to talk too much." What was an admission to him knowing full well that he'd made them wait unnecessarily long also served to toy with Brendon, just throwing more pauses in. Because he didn't have an unlimited supply of self-control, though, Ryan placed a trail of kisses along his cheekbone, up to his temple, slowing down as the feeling that they needed to rush through it dissipated. Still - maybe it'd be more appropriate to hurry given the circumstances, but Ryan had successfully shut off his brain for once.

two hearts in one home || r&a

Ari wasn't really the type of person to appreciate the outdoors. When it was sunny out after weeks of grey and rain, he wouldn't comment on it cheerfully as expected, and generally he didn't complain about any oddly cold or unusually warm weather ("the Earth has seasons, does no one notice it gets cold around October, happens every year, why are we so shocked"); basically, Ari really didn't invest himself in his surroundings. His primary goal - to get indoors where he could laze around as much as he wanted - was enough to distract him from whatever the environment offered. More than he liked to observe nature or explore the area, Ari would rather have at least five different sources of entertainment around him, none of which he really paid attention to. Scene: Ari underneath three blankets, a television on full blast for background noise, phone at his side for receiving messages, laptop on the other open with whatever caught his interest, tablet in his hands on which he did nothing productive, and finally a book lost under the covers that he'd intended on finishing months ago. Typical night seven days out of the week, for him.

River, though, his better half, was more adventurous, and ironically enough he was confined to his home too often to do anything about it. It made logical sense, really, because he looked like some kind of forest nymph anyway, so he should have a connection to nature somehow. In all the inevitable times they'd been wandering about together, it seemed like the sun caught him directly, the oblique rays finding gold in his hair or the cornflower blue of his eyes to illuminate and emphasize. They passed gardens or trees with low hanging branches and River never failed to interact with them somehow, pointing out a particularly bright tulip to Ari or touching the branch that drooped as if it wanted to reach him anyway. If he didn't have this uncanny ability to make every little thing he did endearing - or maybe it was just the fact that River himself was endeared to Ari - then Ari might have been annoyed by it all. But usually he feigned a deep interest in the tulip or poked the leaf that hung closest to him, 'cause it was River.

So maybe he didn't need that much convincing to overcome his hate for any place not air-conditioned when River was involved, but River didn't seem to realize his effect on Ari. It was probably lucky, because any time River planned on trying to drag him into something, he'd act sickly sweet 'til Ari gave in - Ari eventually learned to just push it as subtly as possible. When River first appeared at his doorstep he really didn't even consider that being the case for today, and instead just gladly kissed him because so many hours apart was apparently awful, barely fitting in a greeting before he led River inside. Ari made the actual connection once they'd settled into a peaceful position on his much-too-large and much-too-blanketed bed, having almost fallen asleep with River's fingers drifting through his hair.

When River made his offer Ari pushed it as per usual, enjoying having his hair toyed with and feeling oh-so-special with the way River was being so tactile. He made it last a few minutes before deciding that he could probably get the special treatment even when they were out, and luckily, he was very quickly proven correct. He interlaced his fingers with River's, staying at his side even when he was greeted by the sun's invasive rays and the breeze messed up his hair (and he kind of complained about it, admittedly). Ari tried to imagine multiple times where they were going, what mischief River had planned, and at times really didn't know where the hell they were in the moment, even. And then he came to terms with the fact that River had no guidance at all and they were going nowhere in particular. Part of him sort of panicked, 'cause what if they couldn't get back, or what if he didn't get cell service, so on. The other, though, was intrigued by the idea of getting lost with River. The latter part won out, big time.

In fact, he preferred that careless and lovesick part of himself so much that he totally forgot to worry about how far they got or keep track of what paths they had taken, and when they landed in an area he'd never seen before he suddenly remembered all of it. It looked so country, total opposite of urban life and suburbia and therefore a different planet to Ari, that he was concerned enough to ask River for half a second - and then both of them opted not to dwell on it. Instead they let themselves end up in a meadow untouched by any mowers or city planners and for the first time Ari's attention was caught by the milieu enough to turn him away from River. Naturally their legs carried them to the center of the field, Ari's fingers still loosely locked with River's despite the hours passed or the occasional split-up. He finally let go before River dropped down right near a gathering of dandelions, only to immediately join him on the ground.

Time definitely moved slower here, but he was still fully conscious of the fact that the sun would go away eventually although it still painted the sky brilliantly. The point was that he had to spend that time wisely, and focusing on the good thoughts in his head and actually saying them outloud rather than being completely unavailable would probably be a welcome addition to an already nice day. Caught up with studying all the features of the world he barely took the time to see usually, Ari stayed propped up on his elbows, grounded by the way his and River's legs tangled together so easily. Hey. Ari looked over at River without thinking that maybe he should prepare himself first and was promptly taken aback by the way he was basked in light, stray dandelion seeds all caught up in his hair. He looked dumbfounded for half a second before grinning at him, taking one arm out from beneath him to brush a wisp from his hair and then quickly smooth his thumb over River's cheek. "Hey to you."

Aren’t you glad I dragged you out today? He hadn't followed his gesture since he'd been so enthralled by River himself, but it was easy to infer why he might've been glad. To River, though, he probably thought it was just the sun or the scenery that Ari should be happiest about, 'cause he was dumb like that. Ari figured he should remind River of his priorities. He adopted a matter-of-fact voice to counter River's teasing one. "You didn't drag me. I would've gone easy," he said, distinctly recalling every time he successfully turned down invitations from River only to chase after him and say he'd 'changed his mind.' The answer was pretty much always yes when the question came from River. "I just like when you do this..." He leaned over River once he was flat again, curling one hand against the grass at his head and carding lazily through his hair. "...but now I realize this is much better, yeah." It wasn't often he was agreeable, but. Something about the circumstances kind of shifted his attitude - and banter was evidently the alternative. "Was it your plan all along to get lost? I'm feeling very, how you say, kidnapped. We're gonna have to ask a farmer for directions."

oh such torturous things ;; b&r

Brendon’s self-satisfied I know was just another reminder of his enviable confidence, how he was comfortable with himself enough to have even initiated any of this. Needless to say, Ryan was endlessly impressed, just as he was with virtually every aspect of Brendon’s character - but never before had he wanted so strongly to borrow some of that self-assured attitude. If he had a secure bone in his body he’d probably know what to do from here, not just what the next move was with Brendon himself but, further in the future, how to navigate their relationship. He already had a pretty iffy history with all of that (and realised with a hint of alarm that superfan-turned-frontman Brendon might be aware of the basics, or worse, all the gruesome details). Well, either way. It seemed like Brendon didn’t have a problem with said history or his constant struggle with his self-esteem.

That was the key. More than he was the most gorgeous person Ryan had probably ever seen or would see, and more than he was completely charming and beyond talented, Brendon had this unheard of capability to give Ryan a complete sense of security. Whenever he did feel minute amounts of anxiety, it was because his mind always wandered and found something to worry over. Even then it was easy to tell his nerves that Brendon would be there with him, or that he wouldn’t do that (to the negatives), or that Brendon didn’t think whatever self-deprecating thought he was having about him. Why feel bad about having kind of a baby face if Brendon called him pretty constantly? And not the harsh way any testosterone-ridden jock stereotype might have to make fun of him in high school, or whatever. Brendon was genuine about it; he was about everything. Ryan was sure that all of this was the biggest reason he was even out here with him in the first place, and the most significant thing he noticed after Brendon’s obvious musical talent.

He expressed that, not seconds after Brendon answered his rhetorical question in the most naïve way possible. Because it’s kind of cramped and humid even when it’s freezing outside? He noted, ridiculously pleased, that Brendon appeared touched by his actual reasoning, and vowed not to be withholding about all his dumb enamoured thoughts anymore if it meant he could have that effect on Brendon. Unfortunately that sort of backfired, because he found the inspiration to ask about whether they were considered ‘boyfriends’ now or not, and that was dumb and embarrassing in itself. He suffered a good few seconds of hating himself for it until he realised Brendon seemed fond of the idea, and the stress was alleviated just a little.

You’re so awkward. For sure. Ryan nodded in agreement, long-suffering, fully aware. I love you. And, yes, you can call me your boyfriend. Fuckin’ obviously. The cringe burned into his features faded and instead turned into a soft smile that directly reflected Brendon’s. There was that security again - he wasn’t calling him awkward in a negative light at all. Ryan considered this for half a second before gently returning Brendon’s ”I love you.” Yeah, definitely still not over saying that. Ryan was ready to say it at the door, leaving or returning, ready to say it whenever he was proud of Brendon, even when they were on the phone. And, because he was allowed this now, too, he could follow it up with a kiss whenever he wanted. 'Cause they were boyfriends. Ryan was pretty sure he checked off his entire bucket list in the past, like, hour.

That’s not what I meant. Ryan's eyes rolled skyward, and he became reluctant to twist the knob. For one thing, the indoors were now a whole other realm of possibilities, and maybe a little disappointing in comparison to all they'd just accomplished. For another, Brendon was clearly not to be trusted with delivering their news to Spencer and Jon, whenever they did come across the two. "I'm aware," he said, suppressing his laughter as much as he could. He had made an interesting proposition, though - now all Ryan could focus on was what Brendon had actually meant. His initial thought was 'if only,' since apparently he was parched, and then that it would probably be better if they weren't trapped in what they'd both acknowledged was a cramped and slightly uncomfortable little cabin. Lead the way.

Ryan edged the door open for them, turning from Brendon finally so he could step through and investigate the lounge. From the distant sound of guitar, Jon was probably holed up in his own room still playing - or maybe he'd had a pause Ryan missed during his own. Spencer, he assumed, was probably passed out even though it was fairly early in the evening; knowing him as well as he did, Ryan was fully aware that his sleep schedule was fucked. Part of him was disappointed, 'cause even though it would be a little awkward, at least they could get telling them out of the way. Then he came to the conclusion that it was just a blessing that they could still freely be as affectionate as they wanted for the time being - confessions could wait. He turned again with a grin, taking Brendon's hand while he crossed the empty lounge to his own room.

He barely thought to be embarrassed about the state of the place until he arrived; sticky notes with single phrases and one-word ideas and free verse littered every available surface, his guitar was carelessly propped up in a chair rather than in its stand, and the desk was no longer recognizable as that given it was covered with composition books and loose pages of lyrics and hastily scribbled guitar tabs. At least it was clean, and in fact might've looked untouched if he actually gathered all of his work into one place. "I know this looks like whoever lived here lost their mind, but. I swear, there's an order to the disorder." He half-grinned, knowing Brendon probably didn't care but still feeling the need to explain himself. He barely ever touched the bed before, given that sleep came so rarely, but now he gratefully fell into it, already pulling the duvet around himself protectively with no regard for how much rain he was spreading. "C'mere," he offered, holding his arms out to Brendon - and maybe still grinning over the fact that he'd probably be annoyed/disappointed by their limitations here.

"So now I can also tell you that I kind of picked you out of that crowd because you were so goddamn cute?" He grinned shyly, like his now fairly obvious confession was anything worth getting flak over. "Mainly, anyway. And then I wanted you in the band, of course, but really I didn't know how to ask you out. Eight months of floundering..." Now it was sort of funny to reflect on. Before, though, while he was in those eight months, it sucked big time. Newly grateful for the changed circumstances, he tried to pass on the warmth of the covers, close as ever to Brendon that he may as well just perpetually hold him in an embrace.

seated and sweating || b&r

Between the two of them Ryan wasn’t sure he could claim the title of ‘more patient’ - they were probably about the same - but he definitely didn’t need the constant availability of affection or the unlimited supply of reassurance in the form of kisses or otherwise. He was a lot more dependent on someone being there with him in general who made him comfortable, like the security Brendon’s presence brought. Suppose it was only fair that they had an unspoken exchange going: right upon seeing each other again Brendon made the circumstances ten times less overwhelming, and he was ready to shower Brendon with attention. He wasn’t stupid. He could tell that he’d most certainly not upheld his side of the deal at an acceptable level as of late. Ryan had a tendency to make Brendon wait, though, even if in the past it’d been his obliviousness to blame (talking was more his forté than kissing, and he wasn’t even good at that).

To make up for his shortcomings Ryan tried his best for physical interaction while they talked, his hips nearly pressed to Brendon’s the more he continued. He was barely conscious of that part, actually, but apparently his body agreed independently of his mind with Brendon’s goal of moving past the speaking phase. At first he thought the plan worked, Brendon not protesting his speech as much as he suspected, but soon enough Ryan felt the familiar tug of Brendon hanging on to his tie. It was so endearing he kind of wanted to give up altogether, but what Ryan could barely express with words was harder to communicate with touch and body language. What Brendon worried might look like desperation was quickly mirrored, Ryan’s tone taking on a tiny amount of urgency, suddenly far too aware of even the smallest amount of distance between them.

True, but you also got fuckin’ taller, and you’re still... frustratingly hot. I- Ryan accidentally let a quiet laugh loose at Brendon’s impatience, wondering how he could digress from the topic so easily, but then again Ryan was entertaining pretty much equivalent thoughts about Brendon at the back of his mind. I think if there’s another second of ‘distance’ I’m actually going to die. Ryan fully agreed, and maybe he was stretching all this out a little bit. There was no real purpose other than to see whether he wasn’t the only one dead serious about going back to the way things were. He had no doubt that Brendon felt the same now after so much reciprocation, but when the conversation had started more with them hitting on each other like strangers in a club, Ryan held a few reservations. He knew he was way too romantic for his own good - that was for sure. But he still much preferred knowing that they were promised to each other again before giving into the rampant desire to just kiss him, finally.

Brendon welcomed his wishes, eventually, when he actually put them into coherent terms. Then don’t. He wasn’t really relieved, per se, because he’d have to be seriously deluded to believe Brendon would claim not to want to see him again, but there was still a weight off his chest. Again he wasn’t stupid - he saw Brendon steeling himself for a kiss for the umpteenth time, and, sort of amused and sort of guilty about it, Ryan had to shelf the idea once more. It seemed his question made up for the delay, thankfully, because Brendon appeared to soften, totally sure of his response. I’ve never been so sure of something in my life. Ryan blamed his low tolerance for making him less afraid of vulnerability this past, like, half hour, but it evidently worked out in his favor this time.

He gazed at Brendon a moment longer, contemplating whether he could prolong this a little more or not, but even he didn’t have an infinite amount of willpower. Ryan smiled briefly, reassured, and moved the hand at Brendon’s waist to cover the hands he had wrapped in a vice around his tie before finally leaning in to kiss him. The hand curled possessively along his jaw instead settled at the back of his neck, almost lifting him to his lips as much as he was pressing them closer together. It felt like forever that his mind blanked out, fully invested in kissing Brendon long enough and warmly enough to make up for lost time, before he shifted his attention to Brendon’s neck, intent on leaving a mark when he used to be so reluctant to do so. Now, though: no shame. ”Sorry to make you wait,” he laughed breathlessly against his skin, making an effort to curl his fingers through Brendon’s. There was something off about holding hands and reclaiming a love that never really dissipated in the middle of a Gabe Carrasco party, but. They were pretty eccentric anyway.

oh such torturous things ;; b&r

Ryan detected the threat of Brendon leaving a possessive mark on his skin but was barely worried about it until Brendon pulled back - only then did he remember that they weren't completely alone. He wondered exactly how they'd go about this anyway; would they tell Spencer and Jon immediately what was going on? Ryan wasn't even sure about how to label it himself, and he assumed asking Brendon if they were boyfriends now would be kind of lame. Then, would everyone else know? He didn't see any problem with it - he didn't talk to his family for the most part and therefore wasn't worried about any judgment (that he cared about, anyway; people he wasn't related to would probably have some thoughts on the subject as well). There was the possibility that they ended up not working out, and if they had to publicly break up, too, it might lead to more drama than absolutely necessary.

But while Ryan's mind could work at a hundred miles per minute, he couldn't consider all of this in any real depth; it was shelved for the time being. All that really mattered was that they got to this point at all, something that seemed a distant maybe-achievable dream just yesterday. He savored each kiss because part of him still doubted that it was all real, and if it was, maybe Brendon would lose interest as quickly as they were progressing in the moment. Or, hell, Ryan could do the same, though after eight months of pining, he doubted he'd break tradition. He'd never done it in the past with people he cared far less about in comparison, so it was highly unlikely he'd so easily lose interest in Brendon. His insecurities dwindled when he realised this applied to Brendon, too; why was he so worried in the first place? Natural anxiety was a powerful thing.

Though 'living in the moment' was not Ryan's forte, the fact becoming more and more apparent with each passing second, he tried to draw himself out of his self-sabotaging thoughts, succeeding just in time to watch Brendon finish the verse he'd started. ...I’m just saying that I'd like it a lot more than you'd think, if the sun would come out and sing with me... He was almost taken aback with the ease Brendon seemed to have adopting Ryan's made-up tune when it had been Brendon's lyrics in the first place. He supposed it was natural of them to fit together so easily, though, always like puzzle pieces. One shortcoming: Ryan was a talker, and Brendon was evidently a little aggravated with him for not shutting up (though not seriously, thankfully). Ryan could relate, really.

Duh. Glad they agreed on the date. Ryan was pretty sure he'd never been on one better. He almost melted into Brendon's touch, feeling oddly comforted by the placement of his hands, how it seemed like he nearly framed Ryan's face. He was grateful for it, actually; if not for something keeping him in place he was pretty sure he wouldn't be able to stay upright. Anyway, I’m glad we did it this way. We can just go on dates to make up for it. And all of them should be to either of our bedrooms. He knew Brendon was laughing but Ryan took it very seriously, already planning how exactly they'd get the rest of their band to agree to letting them visit each other's rooms after this ordeal. Jon would probably be more fair with them. Spencer, however, probably thought Ryan was just bad news for Brendon (rather than the other way around, which, as his best friend, Ryan was quite offended by), and therefore might protest their union altogether. So they'd just be sneaky, he guessed.

Ryan momentarily forgot that it was easier to stand when his mouth wasn't occupied but kept his priorities straight anyway, following Brendon's guidance in rising all while he pressed more kisses wherever was most convenient. He nearly interrupted him, actually, before redirecting to Brendon's jaw, holding him close on the opposite side of his face for ease of access. Though to be fair... I haven’t done much actual sunset watching. There are prettier things. For that Ryan did actually pause, looking at him dubiously. "That's—" He broke off, deciding against calling Brendon corny when he'd been arguably worse this entire time. Rather, he laughed modestly, unsure of how to react to such a compliment. "You're sweet," he said instead, gazing at him a moment longer before reaching around Brendon and retrieving his journal for him. The cover seemed to have not been affected much by the rain, so he figured the rest was safe, though he still hugged the book between them protectively. "And I was thinking the same thing. Why do you think I come out here so often? Just more excuses to see you."

He was already backing them towards the cover of the cabin, hanging on delicately to the fabric of Brendon's shirt, until they were in front of the door and beneath the roof overhang. Only then did he realise exactly how much of his own fringe was stuck to his forehead from the rain, paying it no mind and instead drawing Brendon's hair from his face. He pressed Brendon's journal against his chest so he'd accept it, trying desperately not to fall into another habit of kissing each other breathless since they were even closer to their uninformed bandmates, and quirked one corner of his mouth sheepishly. "So you wouldn't mind- I mean. We could call each other boyfriends, right? Imagine that." He kind of already had. In fact, Ryan had been guilty of almost actually doing that in the past, but he figured saying that to Brendon would be slightly embarrassing - just as it was to ask whether he could. God. "'This is Spencer, this is Jon, and my boyfriend, Brendon...'" he practiced, looking endlessly amused by himself.

Abandoning his resolution, Ryan pressed another chaste kiss to the corner of Brendon's mouth before leaning back against the door, fingers on the handle. "So you were saying something about dates in our rooms, and I'd really appreciate around seventeen blankets right about now. Shall we?" He'd heard the underlying suggestion in Brendon's words before, obviously, and wasn't that inattentive, but of course his own innocuous intentions were limited to finding warmth and sticking to it for now. And maybe figuring out whether Brendon was opposed to cuddling or not - hopefully the latter.

seated and sweating || b&r

He'd realised, somewhat belatedly, that although he certainly would have liked to have spent the past few weeks with Brendon, their relationship uninterrupted, maybe it was best that they got some space. Ryan got the opportunity to find out that, yes, everyone else in the world was so boring when they weren't Brendon, when they weren't composed of 90% talent, when they didn't just know Ryan the way Brendon seemed to since the first second they saw each other. It sucked, basically. He took some time to himself, too, to figure out if he was just more of the lonely type, but after a few nights in his apartment with no one there to ground him, Ryan came to the conclusion that he was a little goddamn crazy. Was it wise to want to suck Brendon back into a life where he had to always observe his neuroses? Maybe not. But Ryan was kind of selfish, anyway.

And, clearly, both of them had gone through their own personal evolution. Ryan hadn't asked but he assumed maybe Brendon had tried dating other people, too - and he did know that Brendon entertained a brief crush on that bassist, Dallon, so he was capable of interest in other people, but evidently nothing more. Plus, Ryan found it a little funny that his 'type' was rather specific, like he'd inspired it or something. Tall and built like a straight-up spaghetti noodle, an untidy mop of brown hair, rather awkward party behavior (as he'd noted that Dallon, too, looked entirely out of place from the more sociable people around him) - it was all very convenient. Embarrassingly, Ryan probably would've been the same about Brendon if anyone had cropped up that even vaguely matched his description. Hadn't happened. His uniqueness was a blessing and a curse; it was good that no stranger had reminded him of all the old times, but it became even harder to see him again without dumbly confessing his surviving affection.

So maybe time was good. It was a self-discovery period, or something like that (though Ryan was fairly certain most people took much longer for those). Now he was kind of over the perpetual feeling of loneliness and something being 'off,' buried deep enough that he was functioning anyway, but that surfaced almost immediately once Brendon had initially approached him here. He was dumbly stuck in their weird little world in the corner of the party where they flirted constantly and the subtext that nearly matched the cabin's was almost physically painful to ignore. Then again, 'ignore' was probably not the best word; if he ignored his feelings and the depth of the circumstances and any connection they may have had, then he'd be in the midst of a polite and normal conversation rather than behaving the way he had been. His trip back to the bar was sort of a dodge out of their close encounter but also an effort to gain some liquid courage, because apparently he couldn't just muster it up himself.

What can I say? Ryan smiled at his showmanship, the familiarity soothing, but after a pause Brendon seemed to let his guard down somewhat. Same here. Nobody else- nobody knows like you did. Nothing feels as comfortable, or as good- we just. Fit. Ryan was grateful that he wasn't alone in that feeling, but then he'd never want Brendon to feel that way. It was a little isolating if you couldn't distract yourself with something, and it seemed like Brendon had so there was nothing to worry about, but. Still. His instinct was to protect Brendon from all the bad stuff, and yet they both had to go through that. He quickly tried to move on so he didn't have to dwell on it too long, not gracing Brendon's words with a verbal answer but nodding meaningfully. He'd already said his part, anyway.

He knew what Brendon had been anticipating, back where they had stood before, and of course he longed for the same. But they always started things off on the wrong foot; he wanted to do it right for once. Maybe it was stupid to interrupt a tradition like that, but he didn't want to waste any time recalibrating. Nice to know that he possessed the superhuman ability to ignore every pressing desire to kiss Brendon, though, because it really felt out of his control for a couple of moments. The disappointment on Brendon's features was tangible, and Ryan hoped that for once he made enough sense to just be straightforward. Just buzzed. Pretty much sober. Ryan could have argued with that, used every innuendo he'd heard from Brendon in the past few minutes as an example for why he didn't think 'pretty much sober' was accurate judgment, but. He had other concerns.

Once Brendon was close enough again, Ryan's hands naturally went to his waist, settling comfortably as if he were about to guide him in a slow dance. Kind of weird, given the pop music blasting in the background, but their own little bubble they'd created protected him from being too bothered about that. "We always act first, talk later. I just wanted to do it right this time," he explained, his voice low, and of course the 'act' was the kiss that he'd put on pause, but the term applied to their past in plenty of different scenarios. "I think... maybe the distance wasn't a mistake; it certainly helped me get some perspective, personally. But." He paused, hesitant. He didn't want to back Brendon into a corner if he'd been wrong this whole time and his feelings were really one-sided. Ryan took the risk anyway. "It would have been nice to come here with you. It'd be nice if we did everything together again, like we used to."

He ducked his head briefly before thinking better of it and braving eye contact instead. "I don't want to just- try to forget you, after this party. I don't think I could." Still, Ryan wasn't the one who ducked out originally. He wasn't the one who got scared (or, at least, not to the same extent). So it wasn't his choice whether they were together again or not. His voice grew a little softer and he gradually pulled them closer, vulnerable as ever. "You weren't sure, back then. How do you feel now?" One hand left Brendon's waist and instead fit against his jawline, his thumb brushing just to the side of Brendon's mouth as if he were already marking where exactly to place his kiss. If his own patience was growing thin, Ryan was pretty sure Brendon was totally out.

seated and sweating || b&r

There was something a little frustrating about the way Brendon could simultaneously be one of, if not the most extroverted person Ryan ever met, with little reservations or social shortcomings, and then have this much trouble getting to the point. To be fair, Ryan didn't really want there to be a point here, or at least he wasn't conscious of what that hypothetical point should be. But there was still something both of them were circling around, avoiding confrontation with, and it was indescribable despite being so tangible; neither of them had even mentioned the breakup yet. In fact, it looked like they hadn't even broken up, from an outside perspective. If Ryan was just another partygoer and he saw their body language or heard the unwithheld flirting that passed between them, he definitely couldn't have guessed that they ever broke up with one another. So maybe he wasn't just frustrated with Brendon, here, and it actually extended to himself.

It was hard to even talk about this newfound Dallon after the first mention of him but Ryan entertained the conversation anyway, trying desperately to seem nonchalant about the fact that the newest replacement member of his old band looked like that. And evidently he was talented enough to get through both Brendon's and Spencer's scrutiny. It wasn't a competition, Ryan knew that rationally, but... maybe he was a little insecure. Oh, you agree? His acting skills sort of faltered when he nodded with pursed lips, trying not to give way to too heavy a reaction, but it didn't matter for long. The new bassist became a thing of the past when he looked back at Brendon to gauge his expression, which, really, he must've known what he was doing. Ryan's gaze was immediately drawn to Brendon's lips, one trapped between his teeth, and tried to look anywhere else except the rest of him had about the same effect. Ryan stared for a good three seconds, looking caught off-guard as ever, before he could finally drag his attention away, face flushed.

Luckily it seemed the magnetism between them was in fact not one-sided, and Ryan could ween similar responses out of Brendon. It was a weird back-and-forth, but considering their current state was 'dumper/dumpee' he oddly felt like he had something to make up for. This time all he had to say was hey and Brendon seemed taken aback simply by the even shorter proximity between them (which, in all fairness, kind of made Ryan feel electric, too). He smiled at the reaction, his hand on Brendon's shoulder squeezing in what meant to be a comforting display. The more he spoke, the more nervous he got about how Brendon might feel about what he said, though; it turned out to be an unnecessary concern, considering all Brendon did was smile back at him. Ryan probably would've stopped after 'I miss you' had it not been for that. Something about his grin was validating, brought him more warmth than any of the rum & Coke in the world could.

But of course, Ryan was the only one out of the two of them who could maintain somewhat of an air of seriousness for very long. You’re right. I am very sexually frustrated. He arched an eyebrow, waiting for Brendon to laugh before he cracked up too, shaking his head at him in feigned disbelief. No, but, I- I missed you too. The disbelief turned to fondness, and he studied Brendon for a moment, trying to re-memorize his features now that they'd changed even minutely. He let his head lazily dip a little, drawn by the way Brendon hung onto his tie, and to reciprocate he absently let his last remaining free hand hook by the fingertips onto Brendon's jacket pocket. Yeah, definitely a condemning way to look from an outsider's perspective. ...Me too. Where have you been all my life? Ryan's lips parted slightly, prepared to accidentally say something completely cliche like 'right here' - it was pretty much truth, anyway - before losing the courage.

He held Brendon's gaze for a moment longer, feeling a faint urgency but being unable to do anything about it. And then he abandoned every want and wish that inhabited the back of his mind in favor of picking up Brendon's mask for him, wisely abandoning their glasses, and backing up, attempting to lead both of them back to Gabe's overstocked bar. He removed his hands from Brendon's shoulder and his suit jacket but placed a guiding hand on the small of his back while he leaned in to talk over the sound of screamed conversations and radio music. "I think I need another drink. You're definitely ahead of me," he said with vague amusement, slightly disappointed in his own quick escape, but it was true that he had a grave need for another drink. He thought distantly that he probably wasn't going to let Brendon have another, all things considered, but. That was kind of out of his control, in the end.

There were few stragglers hanging around the kitchen at this point, everyone having already been served unless they were just glued to the bar. He picked up a Solo cup, ever the stereotype, and separated himself from Brendon to pour out whatever was nearest. Coconut rum. Apparently there was a theme for tonight. He added the obvious mixer before leaning against the available counter space, the cup already at his lips. He was avoiding Brendon's gaze again, his eyes fixed on the floor instead, one arm crossed over his chest to support the other that hovered near his face holding the drink. "Also, dating other people sucks, after you. Very inconsiderate of you to be the best I've ever had," he joked, ten times more genuine sounding about it this time, but there was more than some truth to it. Either way he was grinning at Brendon again like they had some shared injoke, sipping again at his drink.

He sucked in a breath, noting with vague alarm that he was already halfway done again before setting the cup down beside him. Ryan put his palms on the counter and lifted himself a little before letting his heels touch the ground again, wondering once more why he couldn't just. Be direct. "Question," he said, beckoning Brendon back over to him by reaching out, trying to pull him close again. "How sober are you? I - I don't know if... maybe this isn't the best timing for me to... say something serious. Which I need to do. Do you mind?" A little cheesy for him to start off like that. 'Can I ask you a question' rather than posing the question outright, that sort of thing - then again, they were being consistent in their lack of any real approach.

meet the press || b&r

One of Ryan's favorite things about Brendon was his liveliness. As someone who surrounded himself with solemn poetry and tragic stories and depressing lyrics, it was nice to find a light in all the darkness; in fact Ryan was fairly certain Brendon was the one who breathed life and love into the new album (so much so he almost believed all the credit should just go to him, but Spence and Jon would probably object). Sometimes he was so exuberant it surprised other people, who reacted by mirroring him and drawing from his energy or got annoyed by it. Other times he was more lowkey, still clever and weird and playful but controlled, for no reason other than it being a quiet day or maybe he was tired out. Either way Ryan thought Brendon was ultimately the most charming out of all of them because of his personality, and he'd never seen it so different as it was now.

Even on the lazier days he didn't just shut down like that. Ryan felt tempted to call off the rest of the day, let them all go home or to whatever hotel was nearest and let him recover from whatever was going on. That was the thing, though; Ryan hadn't quite known him long enough to see him in every situation, therefore didn't know where this all came from. If it was how he acted when he was feeling depressed or something, it was awful. Ryan wasn't used to anything beyond 'suffering in silence' 'cause the only other two people he associated with were the most closed-off people in the world if you weren't asking directly. In fact Ryan wasn't even sure he could help, here. Maybe Brendon just wanted to be alone, which he'd certainly respect if that was the case, but letting him be by himself in this state was a worrying premise.

When they were alone and Ryan could finally address the issue, Brendon seemed a little torn on his knowing something was up. Of course he'd notice - but Brendon probably was trying to hide it. He nearly made to reassure him that it was likely just the band that saw something going on, but then again that'd presumably be a lie, considering the disappointment on some interviewers' faces when they couldn't get his attention or a word from him. Instead Ryan just asked, figuring even if he couldn't help he may as well know for future reference (and trying to dismiss the idea that something truly awful had happened to Brendon - mostly a nagging paranoia at the back of his mind, at this point).

So, I have adhd. Shocker. Ryan didn't really register any surprise, just nodded thoughtfully, wondering how exactly this could be relevant - it was nice to know, though. Another addition to the 'Brendon facts' repertoire. Diagnosed when I was- young. Hasn’t- been a problem until recently. Ryan speculated on what he meant by that. Was it a problem for him personally, trouble focusing or with his energy, or did he think it was a problem as it affected other people? If it was the latter, Ryan desperately wanted to reassure him that anyone who minded his bouts of hyperactivity could go fuck themselves; for the former he was already prepared to help Brendon feel a little normal again, find ways to cope, something. I first started taking medication today and I- fuck, I feel like shit. I don’t even know what it’s supposed to do. Oh. Ryan's expression gave way to a little bit of concern although he was trying not to react too extremely. Thing is, medication was not something he could really help with, and - although he knew Brendon was responsible enough to know how to deal - it could potentially be impacting his health.

He hadn't keeled over or anything, though, and here he was alive and sort of well, so. Ryan reminded himself to not overreact as always. He caught Brendon when he leaned into him, attempting to sooth with a hand stroking through his hair. He stayed quiet, trying to hear when Brendon spoke against his shoulder. It was because people kept saying I was too hyperactive or whatever. "What?" Ryan's gentle hold on him turned more into an embrace, suddenly feeling overprotective. "That's bullshit. You're - Brendon, you're perfect without medication. 'Too hyperactive'... fuck, if that's what they're calling it, it's my favorite thing about you." He pressed a kiss against Brendon's head, eyebrows knotted together in frustration with whoever these 'people' in question were. Brendon was so out of it he couldn't string sentences together without those little breaks, couldn't speak the same expressive way he did before. If that's what people preferred over him being excitable... Ryan was probably taking it all a little too personally, so he tried to tone it down before continuing.

"It clearly doesn't help, Bren. Is it okay - would you mind just, throwing it out? I mean, you don't want to take it, right? And don't feel like you have to because people are assholes. The way you are naturally is just... I'm in love with that version of you. There's nothing to change." It was hard not to get too corny about it, but. Ryan had successfully avoided the words 'amazing' or 'baby,' accidentally blurted out 'perfect' earlier, but whatever. Some cliches were allowed. He knew the way Brendon was feeling right now he probably had no capacity to respond to all of that, or maybe he didn't even fully register all of it, so Ryan pulled back a little just until he could look at him properly. "How are you feeling now? A little better than this morning?" He brushed some hair out of Brendon's face, smoothing his thumb over his temple and trying to ignore all of the signs of him being affected by medication. He looked so tired Ryan almost wanted to just leave him alone to sleep it off, but. Brendon also barely had any water or food that Ryan saw, maybe he could convince Brendon to deal with that issue first.