jakob

if we go on || b&r

Maybe the reason Ryan was so focused on working on himself rather than on both of their problems collectively was just that this was his first relationship where they fit together so well. A lot of people could reminisce on good relationships that didn't end on bad terms, or just had memorable enough times where they didn't see it as a mistake; most if his were ventures he regretted wasting his time with, or that were taken with people who influenced his personality in ways he was still trying to change. And all of them were short-lived, unimportant. So he didn't really know how to solve problems maturely when it came to a two-person team... and if past relationships were his poison, then Brendon must have it much, much worse. Ryan knew very little, if anything, about what came before Shane, but he was fairly certain that he himself was Brendon's first real partner. It was a scary thought - he could be the bad trial run, or something. It's not like many people struck out on their first (ish) try, so... but that was just him being a pessimist, typical. Ryan tried not to dwell on all of that too much,

My name is Brendon. Ryan stared at the wall and wondered how he'd ended up here. Maybe if he hadn't responded to the rich man's cry for help in the first place. Or he didn't give in to Brendon's seductive personality. Sigh. But his life would totally suck then, and he wouldn't have this kind of top notch entertainment. Although - as amused as he was, Brendon seemed pissed, so he tried to take him a little more seriously. Ryan, baby, you said you wanted to leave. 'With you' hung on Ryan's lips, but he knew he was still suppressing a small laugh at Brendon's half-second accidental sweet tone, so he stayed quiet. I basically said feel free. Would you- would you fuckin’ prefer if I asked you to stay? I just said I didn’t care, I wasn’t being a dick. It always happens anyway. Well, if that made sense to drunk Brendon, Ryan supposed he could convolute his own rationality. He supposed. And- that last part was concerning. Did he really think Ryan always bailed? Maybe he did do it too often, now he thought about it.

Ryan knew he was going to sound nitpicky if he went on any longer about Brendon's exact phrasing, but he did anyway. "'Basically' saying it, isn't saying it. It felt like 'fuck off.'" He paused, wishing there was a phone cord or whatever to nervously toy with; alas. He existed in the 2010s, where life was the worst. "And, um. I didn't realise I did it that often- I'm sorry. I guess I'm just not as used to... all of that, as you are." If he was hard to understand stumbling over every word normally, he felt bad Brendon had to try and comprehend what he was saying now, in his state. Aside from that, his defense didn't really hold strong; he'd had to accompany Brendon places for some time now, and should ideally have grown accustomed to the lifestyle he led at least slightly more than staying until 1 am. He wasn't sure how to clearly explain the way his social battery ran out quick, apart from special cases like when he really did have to take care of Brendon. In those situations, Ryan existed beyond normal introvert limitations quite impressively.

You could have at least told me. I was looking forward to seeing you. Ryan was prepared to be petty and argue that he did tell him, he should've just guessed he meant his real home, but. At the time he kind of hadn't, not until he went outside and changed his route. And Brendon was being undeniably sweet saying that - yet Ryan wasn't sure he really believed it. "It didn't sound like you cared much about seeing me the last time we talked," he said, barely argumentatively because he wasn't really feeling up to maintaining a conflict. It felt more like he was keeping him on the phone than much else, at this point. Didn’t think I’d what? Care? Charming. Ryan pursed his lips. "Well. It seems like you only started giving a shit once I'd actually left, so. I mean- you cared more about that party than our date. What was I supposed to think, Bren?" His tone was oddly calmer, because Ryan was actually sort of curious about Brendon's thought process. He knew in the back of his mind it was a bad time to ask, all things considered, but he held out hope that maybe Brendon could arrange his mind clearly enough.

Well, y’know, somebody ruined my other plans. So, yeah. It would've been kind of funny if he wasn't actually concerned about how much worse Brendon would get as the night progressed should he head out again. Ryan fiddled vaguely with the idea of going over there whether he was welcome or not, either to accompany him when he left or to coerce him into passing out early (if 3am could still be considered that). When he offered to come over Brendon paused, hesitated, and Ryan took it answer enough, starting to straighten up from where he was curled into the crook of his chair. Don’t bother. Ryan hugged his phone to his ear with his shoulder, shoving his wallet from the sidetable back into his pocket, his keys.

Clearly you didn’t want to in the first place. Stay at home, read your book or whatever, enjoy your alone time. Ryan looked guiltily at the book in his lap that he hadn't even read more than ten words of. At least Brendon still thought highly of his attention span. He set the novel aside, standing and moving before a mirror, running his fingers through his hair while Brendon ranted. I’ll go fuckin’ find someone who’s actually fun- Shane. A corner of Ryan's mouth jerked up and he moved to the door, heading out into the hall. Bullshit, he was gonna talk to Shane again. As far as both of them were concerned, he was dead, excommunicated. No, no, fuck that, forget I said that. "No problem," Ryan said easily, jogging down steps until he was outside his apartment building, squeezing the receiver closer to him to conceal the sounds of city life until he could get into his car and turn the ignition.

He heard the faintest movement, and suddenly Brendon's voice sounded more distant. I don’t feel good, I- I’m gonna go. "No, hey, Brendon, baby, stay on the line," he urged hurriedly, raising his voice to cover whatever distance Brendon had put between himself and the phone. Ryan pulled out of his parking space while he switched to speaker and set his own phone on his thigh, maneuvering into the steady line of cars already on the road and setting off in the direction of the penthouse. "What are you talking about, you don't feel good? Are you sick? Now you need to stay home, okay? Just - don't hang up, 'til I know you're all right." And hopefully he'd been quiet enough to hide the fact he was already a quarter of the way there, 'cause God knows Brendon would rush to cut the call if the boyfriend he felt like he was in some kind of spat with was on his way over.

if we go on || b&r

It was sort of funny how much of a different person Ryan became around Brendon. Not really different, more truthfully, but he became more himself, with less of a front. For example around others he felt the need to put up this semi-aggressive, defensive wall, and push it forward to show that he was assertive, not to be walked over, especially when it came to guarding the people he cared about. With Brendon it wasn't like he couldn't at times be forthright and bold - in fact he was even annoying about it fifty percent of all occasions, because the longer they were together the more he knew his intermittent attitude was not much of a dealbreaker for Brendon - but he just didn't feel the need to be that protective around him. He could be protective of him with no issue. Really, though, Ryan was more comfortable knowing that Brendon wasn't malicious towards him or looking to 'gain' anything from him in any way more than he was in anyone else. No need to be on edge around him.

Which sometimes meant he forgot boundaries completely and let himself get walked over, and Brendon didn't even mean to do that. It was the combination of Ryan not caring enough to look out for a drawn line and Brendon not knowing, after a lifetime of inexperience, how to remember where other people's priorities might lie and simultaneously take them into account alongside his own, that was deadly. So, ultimately, the issue they always ended up at on nights like these was neither of their faults - just a combination of their collective flaws. Could it be solved with just a little bit of mutual communication? Probably. But Ryan never thought of it or dwelled on it long unless he'd just suffered the effects of their culminated shortcomings, and he was sure Brendon usually forgot about it all come morning time/if he remembered he wasn't used to talking about anything, anyway. When Ryan had a problem discussing things, well. Safe to say that Brendon had it much, much worse.

Anyway, he wasn't really thinking of fixing it now, either. After all, letting them both pass up the date originally was something of the past, and now all Ryan was focused on was the way he was all but welcomed to leave the party without a second glance. He probably could've fought more to stay or for Brendon to come with him, realistically, but. He still bore his tidbit of anger with pride, regardless. He wore it nonchalantly as ever, though, his mood barely reflected in his voice when he spoke with Brendon, who did not hold any of the same courtesy while drunk. Don’t hey, b me, dick. "That's your name, crackhead," he instantly told the slurred voice on the other line, kind of smiling against his receiver. He couldn't even be legitimately angry at the way Brendon sounded like that, especially not now that there was an image in his head of the suited playboy disheveled and lost-looking while searching his huge penthouse for a missing boyfriend. He was... sort of ridiculous.

No, Ryan, I used my fucking psychic powers to notice that you aren’t in my apartment. Yeah, I’m home. Ryan cracked up as quietly as possible, really just a rush of air escaping from his grin, and his annoyance only existed as a backdrop to his amusement. Before they were officially dating, this was his hell. Now he supposed he was allowed to laugh at Brendon for being absurd and entitled. He played dumb, though, making his voice lighter so it seemed as if he'd been given new information. "Oh." How was I being an asshole? I told you I didn’t want to go home. I’m allowed to stay out. "Brendon, you said 'fuck that' when I said we should go, and then you invited me to leave before sharing a laugh with your crew. That was kind of asshole behavior. So I, 'by all means, went home.'" It was kind of dramatic to quote Brendon when, in this state, he'd likely have no memory of ever saying that to Ryan, particularly when he'd said it in passing in the first place. But Ryan lived for the drama and besides - Brendon wouldn't remember any of this anyway, he was sure, much less this part alone.

Ryan realised belatedly he was still all in his party gear, fiddled with the jacket he'd relied on ever since receiving one (1) approving comment from Spencer while he halfheartledly listened to Brendon slur on. Y’know, I came back much earlier than usual because I missed you, and you fuck off away from me. Thanks, baby. Maybe he really had hurt Brendon's feelings. Drunk or not, they mattered to him. So Ryan paused, unable to think of any words in his own defense, and felt a little badly, biting his lip and casting his gaze to the ground. "I didn't think you would-... I'm sorry about that, actually," he replied hesitantly, sounding genuine for the first time during the call, his voice softening. He wasn't sure that Brendon actually cared that much, and maybe it was another instance of drunken clinginess being disrupted superficially, but still. If he was only temporarily hurt, it was still Ryan's responsibility, and he wasn't going to ignore it. He listened to the white noise on Brendon's end become clearer, the telltale sound of his knuckles crackling, and he knew the phone had been switched to speaker.

Yeah, without you. "Baby," Ryan said beneath his words, half-argumentatively, but he didn't have any contest prepared for it. You’d probably know what that was like if you didn’t have a stick so far up your ass. Ryan pursed his lips, and he knew Brendon was really just talking by now, but. There was some truth to that, honestly. He paused, nearly tried cutting in with something unrelated to divert the topic, but Brendon continued. You know, whatever. I’ll go back out. Ryan felt a faint sense of panic for whatever reason, and there was none, really, because it's not like him going out again was a bad thing. Not to anyone but his liver, probably. But also he was likely just saying that. Ryan paused again, wondering. "Are you really going back out? You could just - go to bed. I'll come over if you want, you know." He cringed, anticipating whatever 'why didn't you come over in the first place' or 'fuck off' variation was coming. There was also a 'I'll go back out with you' hanging on his tongue, but he both didn't really want to and knew Brendon was wont to tell him no.

if we go on || b&r

Ryan had never been in it to 'change' Brendon or anything like that. After all he had liked him as he was - there was no reason to reform him or try to shape him to some new ideal. As much as he liked Brendon naturally, though, he had a lot of shortcomings and annoying habits that he'd worked on since they met (and even moreso since they got together), and Ryan appreciated it beyond words. It'd even inspired him to work on himself in turn. When Brendon started learning to say what he was feeling rather than push it aside, Ryan learned to withhold his criticisms and judgments unless they were productive/constructive. When Brendon tried opening up a little more, sharing experiences and thoughts that came to mind that were maybe slightly deeper than a 'one time in Vegas'-esque story, Ryan later remembered to distance himself from his often guilt-trippy and self-victimizing tendencies.

That was the thing: both of them had their own problems to get over. So Ryan knew it was sort of absurd how much it bothered him that Brendon occasionally still stuck too true to his hedonistic, luxurious lifestyle, even after welcoming someone very unused to that into his world. Ryan knew it wasn't right to 'correct' him, it wasn't his place in any way, not as his personal assistant or his friend or even his boyfriend. He wasn't necessarily hurting himself, otherwise Ryan would see it as a good time to step in without looking like too huge an asshole; either way, though, he'd be patronizing to stop him one day and discuss the dangers of drinking, whatever. The extent of what he could do was accompany Brendon on all of his adventures, or at least the ones he could get away with going to, and making sure he stayed safe wherever he was. Ryan wasn't perfect himself, obviously, but he at least was so unused to the life Brendon normally led that he could maintain a level head throughout.

Sort of. Sometimes it became too much for him to watch Brendon around people who brought out the worst, most frat boyish part of him, or to lose count of how many shots he'd taken with a grimace, or to lose track of Brendon altogether and get stuck in a crowd of people who didn't give a shit who or what he was unless they knew he was with Brendon. In which case Ryan ensured they knew that his connection to Brendon would benefit no one else, thanks very much. In these situations he'd make a terse exit, although he hadn't had to do it too often, fortunately enough - Ryan had developed patience levels through the roof ever since they first met. Surprisingly, that skill could come into practice even in situations involving more than just Brendon. Pretty impressive, really. Anyway, the exits were subtle, usually just a squeeze on Brendon's arm and a half-smile and a gentle 'see ya' and the message was across that he was getting out of there. No big deal.

But when they'd been planning something for them, a real date that wasn't just Brendon impulsively throwing a hundred bucks to an usher so that everyone else's reservations were rendered irrelevant, and then a dumb party got in the way of that, Ryan was kind of bitter. As soon as he had to deliver the invitation he knew the night to themselves was gone, so he at least got to cool himself off before the party itself and could hang off Brendon's arm (then, later, trail behind him like an accessory) without snapping at anyone. He held the same glass of wine the whole night, sipping it halfway before deciding it'd just be his cover from receiving more offers of alcohol or other unsavory courtesies, and watched to make sure Brendon didn't get too much too quickly himself. The role of 'control freak boyfriend' wasn't so bad when you were employed to be checking on him, anyway.

Some time close to one a.m., Ryan decided he was sick of it, though; he was tired as fuck and people kept giving him these weird, passive aggressive looks, probably for not leaving their guest of honor alone, and he was generally over it all. So he invited Brendon to leave with him, give him the benefit of the doubt: he gently looped an arm around him, fingers pressing into his side delicately, and whispered close to his ear that he was done for the night - if he approached this any other way he'd get a straight-up 'hell no,' he was sure. Brendon, though, was quick to move away, and Ryan leaned back in counterpoint, watching him sharply. Fuck that. Ryan stared at him for a moment, then at their audience, knowing he must be part of the entertainment. Brendon tended to get even bolder when there were people around to see. But by all means, go home. Yeah, fuck this. He looked at him for a second longer, face carefully blank, then tossed his groupies another critical glance before taking his leave.

They shared the car here, and Brendon's driver was still outside sitting on the hood of the car, phone in hand. Ryan hesitated, thinking of going to his place as was generally agreed upon, but he didn't really want to see Brendon stumble in later and have to pretend to want to flirt with him until he fell asleep half-dressed. Which sounded about right. Ryan hailed a cab and went to his own place, relatively untouched since he and Brendon started officially dating, all the Post-Its collected into one sticky pile on the coffee table and half of his belongings gone, strewn about Brendon's place. Suddenly not all that tired (and he still gave enough of a shit to make sure Brendon at least got home and didn't pass out in public, even if he was kind of mad at him), Ryan curled up into an armchair fully clothed, pulling out a book decisively but turning on the television at the same time.

I thought you were coming back to mine, came the eventual, expected text, or at least that's vaguely what it said once Ryan took a second to translate it. He placed his phone on top of the open, unread book, raising his eyebrows at it. While he was plotting out a reasonable response, another came - Where tf are you? Did you plan on telling me you’d fuck off home? Ryan didn't appreciate the tone of that one, actually. He started typing before remembering Brendon definitely wouldn't be able to read all that well and called him instead. "Hey, B," he started, more gently than he would have liked, then allowed a moment in case Brendon's drunk brain needed to calibrate. "So you made it home? Cool. Sorry, you were sort of being an asshole, and I didn't want to deal with it at whatever ridiculous time you came back, so. Did you have a good time?" Weirdly, these words seemed like they should be aggressive, but his tone came out pretty flat, casual. Evidently it was possible to call someone an asshole in a conversational way. Anyway - he wasn't up to picking a real fight, would probably end up back at Brendon's sooner or later regardless.

city’s your playground | b&r

Brendon lifted his shirt off with (un)surprising speed, and Ryan had half a second to trace his thumb over his bottom lip caught between his teeth just before moving out of the way for the fabric. His touch kept naturally gravitating towards Brendon's face, tracing his features and curling fondly around his silhouette, and in turn Brendon's hands moved down his body now that his chest was bared. Ryan remembered to be a little self-conscious about it - but at this point he'd earned so much endless praise and flattery from Brendon about how he looked that it was hard to muster up much self-hatred. For the longest time he didn't think that was really a thing, that you couldn't be cured of your own insecurities by someone else, but he at least valued Brendon's opinion so much that he held it close to his own heart regardless of whether he agreed/believed him or not.

Either way he still shivered at every touch, even more when Brendon's lips came close to his ear. More than you know. There it was - the praise. Ryan turned his head to him while he was still close, meeting his gaze carefully before smiling slightly and kissing his cheek gratefully. As self-assured as Brendon was, there was no way he knew exactly how moved Ryan was by how he talked, how much of an effect he had on him. No one could know, really. I intend to. Ryan laughed softly at his counter, raising his eyebrows right back at Brendon because he wasn't as lilting and seductive as he was, more just dorky, and accepted his weight with a quiet gasp. One of Ryan's hands escaped down to hang on to Brendon's hip, thumb wisping over the bone newly visible and dipping just barely beneath his waistband.

I’m so glad I met you, and I’m so glad we decided to do this. Ryan was nodding rapidly, his mouth slightly agape as it was wont to be around Brendon and no one else, but the heat was momentarily put on pause a beat later. Ryan didn't catch on right away, hands still coaxing over his skin, still entirely involved with him. I- I’m sorry I treat you like shit sometimes. Don’t argue, I know I do. He did stop, then, and was still tempted to argue, smoothing Brendon's hair aside repeatedly because he was adamant on telling him that he didn't treat him that way. If he did, vaguely, it was because Ryan was kind of an asshole half the time, too, and when he was, there was rarely any real reason for it apart from his own feelings getting to him. So Brendon didn't really treat him like shit, but evidently he thought he did strongly enough to put them on hold momentarily, so Ryan tentatively heard him out.

Nobody’s ever been as nice to me, as genuine with me as you have. Even Gabe is flaky. You’re... dependable. He was paid to be, in all fairness, but Ryan supposed that apart from them literally sleeping together he also went above and beyond in the friendship department. Most employees didn't give a fuck how their employers thought about them, much less how their employers thought about everything else in the world. He nodded a little, dazed. I do care about you, even if I don’t show it very well. And you’re very handsome. Ryan's chest was unbelievably warm, and he was so focused on the TV static sensation that he barely registered the movement of Brendon's hands again or the kiss he was granted. "And that helps," he tried to joke with that last comment, half-smiling, but he was clearly taken aback by the rest of Brendon's sort-of speech. He was too sweet, sometimes.

Ryan was torn on how to respond. He wanted to laugh about it over the phone with Spencer or something, 'cause that's what he used to do with silly crushes, but this was becoming a lot less silly feeling by the day. And then he wanted to tell Brendon everything about how he felt, but that'd freak him the fuck out and ruin all of this, probably. And if he tried to limit everything he said so that he was at least reciprocating what Brendon'd just kind of confessed to him, then there was the chance that maybe he'd... come out with everything else too, and that was an unsavory thought. Ryan had been silent for a few moments, still looking dumbfounded as ever, and blinked at Brendon repetitively like he was an angel in fuzzy light before trying to talk. "Thank you," he whispered, painfully quiet, and bit his lip for a fraction of a second. "You have no idea how happy I am to hear you say all that."

"In case it wasn't obvious," he added, swiping a thumb across Brendon's jaw affectionately, "I care about you, too. Like you'd say- 'more than you know.' And I guess you're pretty cute." The way he looked at Brendon, you might've thought he was in love, so the joke was fairly clear there. He really thought Brendon was about the most gorgeous person alive, commented on it whenever he got the chance - even in public, since the beginning. Apparently he had no reservations on that part, ever. Before we go to the point of no return- would you rather stay here, or go somewhere else..? Ryan regarded him more seriously. "Bold of you to assume I have the patience to move to a bed or wherever, right now. Look what you've done to me. I look like I ran a mile. Stay." The 'point of no return' part was doubtful, though, considering that now all Ryan wanted to do was hear Brendon talk like that more and more and endlessly, but. Wishful thinking. To act like it was his first priority anyway, Ryan made away with the button on Brendon's jeans, slipping a hand beneath the fabric and exploring the smooth skin on the side of his hip while he tried to push for more charm. Ryan tilted his chin up to try and speak closer, lower. "What made you say all of that? I like you talking that way."

say what you mean ; b&r ; tell me i’m right

Brendon pulled away from him almost instantly, and Ryan felt like a part of him was ripped from his hands, too. He wondered a lot whether he was in the right place, doing the right thing; here and now, Ryan knew he was making a mistake overthinking everything like this. None of this had happened how he wanted, sure. If it was up to him, Brendon would have known much, much sooner that he should be with Ryan, and they'd be together to this day. But it wasn't up to him and now he was making a series of awful mistakes, pushing Brendon further and further away when that'd never been his goal before. If he couldn't accept Brendon's confession for fact now (and he was becoming more comfortable believing him the more uncomfortable he was otherwise) then he probably wouldn't get a chance like this again. Ryan focused on the hurt in the moments it took to pass, curling his fingers inward protectively.

Then you don’t feel strongly enough about me. There was sound reason for Brendon to think that, but no - he couldn't be further from right. Ryan watched him, head shaking slightly, wanting to communicate so badly that he was unbelievably wrong, but that was a hard message to get across in this situation. What do you mean, if? I’m not fucking lying to you, jesus- Really, he couldn't be. Brendon was too adamant about it all, too serious and too genuine sounding to be lying or joking or trying to embarrass Ryan, whatever. And if he was unsure about himself later on, it would be more than shocking, considering how much thought was going into him telling Ryan. Brendon wouldn't put this much effort and time into it if he didn't mean it; he wouldn't be risking himself in this way. "You're not," he said very quietly, barely audible, incredulous.

But I have changed my mind- for the better. I want to be with you, it’s not- that difficult a concept... Ryan opened his mouth to tell him that, yes, it was an incredibly difficult concept, that was the whole point, but Brendon seemed to catch on. He stayed quiet and kept on watching him speak like he'd been, gaze intent because seeing him talk like this was... a lot to take in. It reignited the stronger feelings he thought he'd got to dissipate. If you didn’t want me, whatever, I’d live, but Ryan, you do want me. I’m not blind. I don’t understand why you’re making this so difficult. Brendon approached this so uniquely; he'd never been rejected, or turned down or even considered a second best, as far as Ryan knew, and here it was showing. Not that he was incorrectly entitled or anything. He was absolutely right. Ryan wanted him, wanted everything that could happen between them, wanted what he'd always imagined might be and was now a very real possibility if only he'd ignore his fears for once.

Clearly exasperated by his first experience of the word 'no' (or more accurately, 'maybe not') Brendon was standing again, looking torn apart by the circumstances. Ryan finally took his eyes off of him and instead let them fall to the floor, knowing this was his home but feeling weirdly unwelcome, unfamiliar. Ryan. Ryan, fuck- you’re gorgeous, you look so fucking good, you’re all I’ve been thinking about for the past week, I miss you. Again. Those words were all he'd ever dreamed about since meeting Brendon. He kept his gaze determinedly fixed to the hardwood, feeling his heart more rapidly, willing himself not to react so strongly to Brendon. It'd been so much time since they even touched, and now he felt like they were worlds away despite Brendon being just within reach, god.

Fuck finding better. You’re the only person I’ve ever genuinely wanted to date, and- you won’t even believe me, what’s the point? Ryan looked up again, at how hopeless he looked, how broken he was by a perceived rejection, and. This wasn't what he wanted. Ryan stood and carefully wrapped an arm around him, trying to coax his arms down and turn him until they faced each other. He'd said all the right things, sounded so sure and so oddly romantic for him, and Ryan knew there was nothing he could say in turn to make up for his own anxiety ruining things, so. He searched Brendon's face for a moment, wishing he had all the right words for 'sorry,' and ended up just leaning in, kissing Brendon only one fair count of Mississippi in case that was no longer welcome. He kept himself mostly detached otherwise, afraid maybe he'd pushed Brendon too much. "You're full of surprises, you know that," he said softly, fixing his attention lower at Brendon's shoulder after a moment. "I'm sorry, I just... I never thought you would... I'm sorry. I do, I do want you, I always have."

i'm just taking in the scenery || b&r

Ryan fell in love with him all over the world, on tours in foreign hotels and in remote gas stations and in the bus lounge at 2 in the morning. And yet this one place, some creaky old cabin barely a few hours from home, was the one nearest and dearest to their hearts, the place Ryan considered most special to them. In fact, if he'd have thought about it seriously instead of entertaining a multitude of different scenarios and writing out plays between the two of them, most likely he'd have picked the cabin to propose at, too. Part of him was shocked Brendon had gotten there first and beat him to the punch, 'cause Ryan tended to jump the gun and be impulsive no matter what (in fact it was surprising he hadn't, like, stumbled upon a jewelry store and walked in to get an engagement ring without thinking already). It was a good thing, though, because from the moment he'd caught on this had already become the best feeling of his life.

Brendon began every good thing in his life, actually, and finished each, too. Every good memory, every good story, every perfect song off of every perfect album; he played a hand in everything, and Ryan knew if they were married, Brendon would make the rest of his life perfect, too. It was weird for Ryan to think especially, considering he was a pessimist above all else, but Brendon had sort of convinced him that there was at least one thing to invest hope in - not just in Brendon himself, but in them, and everything they'd create together, and all the future held for them. God, Brendon gave him something to hold out for. A few years ago he was pretty sure his band was going to fall apart and he'd go nowhere, at least not any place special. Now... Brendon came in at the brink of collapse, picked him up and every other piece of his life, too, and had stayed holding it all together.

Ryan wasn't sure how to tell him he'd saved him. Marriage, though, would certainly give him a more credible platform. Thank fuck. As if he would've said anything else. Ryan shook his head at him, grinning, and watched in enchantment as Brendon slid the ring onto his finger, his lips parted slightly at the view. "You sound like I could have said anything else," he observed, amused, and withheld whatever proclamation of undying love threatened to leave his lips when he saw Brendon kissing the back of his hand. God, he was perfect. Ryan lifted his hand to admire the ring, twisting it to watch the silver glint in the faint light, biting his lip softly to keep from, again, saying anything too embarrassing. Really, a stupid thing to be worried about at a time like this, but he'd like to remember today as a time where he wasn't too mortifying, thanks very much.

Not long before we even left to go here. See, even relatively impulsive ventures of his went better than Ryan's planned out ones. He studied Brendon longer, barely even registering how absurd his staring habit had become. But I’ve thought about it for months. Ryan nodded swiftly, accepting Brendon into his arms and onto his lap easily. "Me, too," he said, no hesitation. "Pretty much since we met. But I'm glad you beat me to the chase... this is so beautiful, baby." Brendon's arms had wrapped around his neck and he held him steady with a hand braced behind one of his shoulders, surging closer against him when their lips met. Nothing matters but you. Nothing. None of this was particularly shocking - Brendon had always been sentimental and sweet, charming above all else. But it never failed to touch Ryan's heart, this especially.

He grinned, easy. "You're corny," he whispered close against Brendon's lips, searching his eyes. "But sweet. It's a good thing I get you to myself." Ryan fit in another chaste kiss, then looked thoughtful, dipping his chin a bit. "We're keeping your last name, right?" He was half-joking, but he looked seriously at Brendon, a sideways smile glued to his face. "Tell me all about it, how we'll be. Married life. I vote: lots of dogs."

say what you mean ; b&r ; tell me i’m right

Ryan had never had a predetermined type or anyone in his head who he saw as perfect, or 'the one,' anything like that. In fact he never thought of himself as the romantic type, didn't think he was really cut out for relationships or even tiny flings. After all, everything he had had was short-lived, or if it was a long-term thing, it had never flowed very well at all. When he started picking up feelings for Brendon - for every endearing habit he had, every witty comment he threw out, every silly mistake Ryan had to fix by contract - he realized maybe something could happen between him and someone else, maybe he could feel something for someone else that was serious. Then again he'd only really been comfortable calling whatever was between the two of them a 'puppy crush' so far, so. Maybe not. But it was nice to pretend Brendon had awoken that capacity in him, and either way, Ryan was ready to let it play out, tiny crush or not.

That is to say - he was ready until it turned out his confidence couldn't stand so many different ways to say 'I'm not interested' or 'it'll never happen.' So, in turn, Ryan kept figuring out new ways to downplay his own interest, kept on trying to bury his feelings. For a while he thought it was a blessing that Shane had stepped in, as shitty as it was to watch someone else be the 'first real boyfriend,' to take the brunt of Brendon not being able to muster up that kind of emotion; and then it really wasn't that great 'cause Shane was a piece of shit, but. Still. It was an (unwelcome) distraction to hate someone who pretended to like Brendon the same way Ryan did. Thought he did. Whatever. He was maybe a little bit in denial. And now that Shane was supposedly out of the picture, he had to keep on denying feelings that kept bubbling to the surface all over again, weeks after he thought he'd improved.

Now it was like all those possibilities he'd been denied were being dangled in front of him, and everything he'd hoped could be real could be - but that'd always been such a distant dream that now he didn't believe it. It had to be some kind of trick, or Brendon wasn't thinking things through, as usual. And if that was true, and Ryan fell for it, and then in a few days Brendon decided he wasn't into him at all and it'd all been a passing thing - he'd feel like an idiot and his heart would be broken. Thus far he'd been really, really good about protecting that part of him, so. To give it up now... Ryan had no idea what he'd do, or where he'd go; he didn't even think he'd want to leave Brendon then. He couldn't imagine being instantly over him even after a split like that, or not wanting to be his friend anymore. Most importantly, he wanted Brendon to keep being his best friend, too, 'cause he'd learned how to let his life revolve around him and nothing else.

Looking at him now, though, and all the faint hurt anticipated on his face beneath the nerves - Ryan knew he wasn't doing a good job protecting the most important thing in his life. His uncertainty wasn't understood, and he couldn't even explain why he was this hesitant. You’re welcome? Yeah, he had no idea. He kept on looking as bold as he could but Ryan saw through it, instantly feeling remorse. But I just told you I do. He could say it as much as he wanted. But Ryan hadn't seen any actions pointing to him feeling that way... except he kind of had. Whenever he thought he was attributing too much of his own feelings to Brendon being soft towards him, maybe that was actually Brendon coming to terms with how he felt, in denial himself. This... complicated things. Ryan leaned a little away when he shifted forwards, timid in contrast to Brendon's reignited confidence. If you still like me, what’s the problem? The problem was that Ryan knew for sure he was fundamentally unlikeable, especially with someone like Brendon, but he wasn't going to say that. He pursed his lips, adamant.

You say you’re happy, and you date me. Ryan wished it was that easy. Thinking back to all the moments he'd thought he was projecting his own emotions onto whatever Brendon was doing, maybe it was that easy. He wished he'd just said he was busy and gone on that stupid date. I don’t understand the issue. Brendon looked defiant, but there was something uneasy beneath that, and Ryan truly felt for him. He wanted to believe him so badly that he almost did. He'd wanted this for so long that he just wanted to accept it and take Brendon's word. ...Do you think I’m lying? That I’m that out of tune with my feelings? I might find it difficult, Ryan, but this- I wouldn’t be here if I wasn’t sure. That was the first time he'd ever said anything like that. In fact, all of this was very 'first' for Brendon, all very new and... maybe the changes were all real. Ryan was beyond impressed, and beyond touched. If it was real, it was for him.

Brendon leaned away again and looked tired as ever, hands running over his face. Whatever, if that’s- if that’s how you feel... He'd, for once, spilled his heart for Ryan to see all and Ryan hadn't shown him how much he appreciated that privilege. Ryan quickly moved across the couch, gently taking Brendon's hands from his face and wrapping his own around them. He looked at him seriously for a second before his gaze drifted slightly, the rainbow of sticky notes in his periphery, and if he'd obsessed over Brendon and everything he ever did before, what was he doing now passing this up? Ryan focused on him again, brow furrowed. "No, I don't know how I feel," he said more clearly, relatively eloquent again. "But I've never seen you like this. I - I can't believe how far you've come. And if it's because you really feel that way - fuck, Bren, I..." He lightly squeezed his hands, eyes dropping to his mouth for half a second, and what the hell were they doing, god.

"I don't want you to change your mind," he said in a quieter voice, self-conscious. "I haven't changed mine, but that's because... you're you. And. I don't know, just... you'll realize you can do better, or something. I'm - I'm not ready for that." Ryan kept hanging on to his hands despite knowing that it was probably time to let go, to actually reflect his words, but. He just wanted to give in; it felt like they were meant to be, anyway, as cheesy as it sounded. The connection seemed to level them, or it felt that way, and finally the distance that'd been between them so long felt lessened.

city’s your playground | b&r

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say what you mean ; b&r ; tell me i’m right

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to my legs and to my tongue | m&h

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