jakob

sheepish wolves ;; b&r

/ or let it End tbh

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

/

stardust in my eyes ;; b&r

/

city’s your playground | b&r

/

melt your headaches ;; b&r

/

melt your headaches ;; b&r

Of course Ryan had his own doubts at times. Neither of them were perfect, and his relationship track record was even less. He'd made so many mistakes before that seemed good in the beginning, more than good, even, and what set this one apart from that? He and Brendon had barely any issues, and if they did it usually stemmed from too much time stuffed together in tight spaces afforded to them on tour. Disagreements came around from different lyrical directions or extended periods of time without sleep, and then both of them would realize it was about time they force themselves to go to bed, and in the morning all was well. And of course there was the rare occasion where they'd actually be annoyed by each other. Since they were young and dumb they didn't usually talk it out, unfortunately, but the annoyance would pass anyway, apologies coming through with kisses and a fulfilling of whatever each other's coffee order was. They were pretty easygoing that way.

None of that was enough to warrant a lot of doubt for him, though - it was mostly the part where this was his first relationship not with a girl, and what if he was just idealizing it because of that, what if there was something better that he wasn't realizing, so on. Regardless, any picture that came to his head about a future involving Brendon wasn't bad. Actually, far from it; it was all perfect. He'd owe that fact to Brendon just being new to him, of course he'd idealize things, but then months passed and he still felt the same, and a year passed and he felt even better about them. It wasn't often he had confidence in much of anything, but with them it was hard for him not to. He was human and got curious of what else sometimes, but the curiosity was short-lived - he generally concluded that whatever else there was couldn't be Brendon.

So of course he jumped at an invitation to see him again, taking no time at all to get to his place. Worryingly, he basically broke in with ease. Concerning, to say the least. Excellent observation. Yeah, well. It wasn't a good thing. Evidently it was intentional, though, so he let it slide. Brendon was quiet apart from an extended sigh, the reason for which was unclear, and Ryan figured he'd probably just woken up from a long ass nap, too. Actually, Spencer and Jon were probably doing the exact same, or waiting until later to pass out. He studied Brendon fondly for a moment, registering that he'd actually missed him in the mere hours they'd been apart, and then Brendon gently held onto his arms, leaning in to kiss again. Yeah, Ryan definitely missed this.

Unexpectedly, but certainly welcome, Brendon stepped in to close the tiny distance left between them, arms hung over his shoulders and face buried close to his pulse. Ryan was a little concerned; first he'd been quiet, and now this was a lot more serious and calm than he'd usually be, but Ryan brushed it off in favor of wrapping his arms around Brendon's middle, pulling him close. He kissed the side of his head, grinning in amusement at how it distinctly looked like he was hiding in the crook of his shoulder, and let them sway a little, raising one hand to cradle the back of his head. Waiting for you. He was slightly muffled against fabric, but warm, and Ryan smoothed his hand over his back reassuringly. How about you? "Well," Ryan breathed thoughtfully, "I just slept all day, so not much. And then I raced other cars to get to you." He laughed softly, gaze turning to the opposite wall rather than at Brendon's hair, all that was visible of him.

He kept them guided in the same tiny undulation, a natural continuation of the gentle tone Brendon had introduced. In fact, it sort of reminded Ryan of plans he'd been trying to finish for a while. "You know," he said after a pause, fingers carding through Brendon's hair slowly, "We wouldn't even have to meet up if we lived in the same place. And you definitely have a better apartment, so my vote's on that." A touch of laughter was on his voice at that last part, barely nervous making the suggestion since they'd practically lived together through the entire tour anyway. "Although I'm a notorious blanket thief, so I'd bring my own, promise."

melt your headaches ;; b&r

He'd done it. Ryan finally successfully maintained a relationship for a year. Well - they'd already recently celebrated the milestone, but he was still ecstatic about it; he did have longer, more chaotic relationships in the past, and none of them were as good as he and Brendon were. They fit together like puzzle pieces, and with anyone else he just ended up not matching, getting irritated all the time, not splitting up despite the unhealthiness for an absurd amount of time. Brendon he understood, and it seemed Brendon easily understood him; they quickly learned so much about each other and had a close prior friendship to boot. Safe to say Brendon had fast become closer to him than anyone else before, possibly even surpassing childhood friends, and he didn't see anything but blue skies for them.

The band, on the other hand, was looking a little rough, and Ryan excused it away with them just being sick of one another after so much time working on the new album, executing everything as perfectly as possible, barely seeing anyone but each other and people from their team. Turns out you got sick of people real quick when you withheld annoyance at every little bothersome habit, had no way to really get away for a while, so on. He was fooling himself thinking all of that; the start of their venture had gone off well enough, but now he detected slight changes here and there, picked up on strange musical directions played from a hotel room over or down in the tour bus lounge that he would never incorporate into his work. Ryan drove himself a bit crazy when he thought about it too much, his ever-present anxiety turning him into a speculative, constant worrier, and promptly pushed everything to the side. The tour had been over for only a bit of time now - he could deal with it later if there was actually an issue.

Aside from his conspiracy theories, everything was fine. Great, actually. Their live album he'd initially been worried about, thought it was weird that so much of them backstage and all was going to permanently exist, but it was surprisingly successful. The real album received praise about they 'artistic evolution' (Ryan partially lent credit to Brendon for maybe inspiring that, since the process of making it conveniently came together a fairly short amount of time after he joined), and the goddamn Rolling Stone claimed they'd made one of the boldest moves in rock history. Thirteen year old Ryan would've been even more ridiculous than he was, hearing that. And although he wasn't sure how to put it into perspective, he'd learned that the album was selling fast - in the thousands, tens of thousands, more - and that's what he'd been looking for. People to hear them out. Based on the reception during tour, they liked what they heard, too, must've been moved in some way.

They were lucky to get away with such a change, and there was plenty of critique on that, but still. Everything was great. Usually Ryan would be right back on track writing, but he was creatively exhausted after this more exhausting round, and all he wanted to do was lie down forever and take back whatever ludicrous amount of hours of sleep he'd missed out on while he was gone. And that's actually what he did before it, unsurprisingly, got boring after a few days, and he was back to being around Brendon half the time if not more - even after months of being crammed together. Sometimes their patience ran short because they were human or whatever. Difference: Ryan very quickly recovered from those drained times with Brendon, whereas he'd really have to separate from Spencer or Jon for a while. And with Brendon, for either of them it was 'hey, I need some space,' - he'd tell Jon and Spencer to fuck off for a bit and they'd definitely say the same back to him. So they worked well together.

Anyway. The exhaustion was fading away fairly quickly, and it became easier to actually get out of his house. When he rolled over from a close to middle-of-the-day nap (a concept he was unused to but enjoying), his phone was alight with notifications, and he scrambled to grab it. Blinked a few times to read the screen clearly. Brendon was asking if he wanted to come over, was he busy, and absolutely he wanted to come over, was that even a question. Honestly, they'd probably have already moved in together if only they hadn't been outside of their homes for the majority of the last year, where it was impossible to make a big change like that. Or at least, Ryan thought about it sometimes, mind drifting off to what could become of them, how they had so much ahead of them. That aside, Ryan tapped out what was a vaguely incoherent 'hell yeah,' typos abound from his sleepy state, and he quickly got out of bed, got ready. This baby blue V-neck was all he could find that appealed to him, and he realized it was probably not even his, or Brendon just stole it so often to wear when he was ofer that it seemed that way. In fact, it was a miracle it was even still in his house.

He figured Brendon would probably enjoy that kind of reminder, so he pulled it on, tried to undo all the signs of sleep in his face in the mirror, and headed out. He absently thought of what they could do in the car, and when the idea of playing music was introduced, he quickly shook it off. Playing guitar and singing again so soon would probably kill him, or he'd do it himself. He texted Brendon a couple of minutes before he arrived that he was pretty much there, because like hell was he gonna knock on the door like they were acquaintances, and instead used his spare key to let himself in. Not necessary, it turned out. "Brendon Blake. Your door was unlocked. Unless that's for my convenience, I'm disappointed," he called, facetious, voice gradually lowering as he became more within earshot while approaching Brendon in his living room - who appeared to have been half on his way to meet him on the door, anyway. Ryan closed the gap himself and planted a modest kiss on his cheek in greeting, hands automatically going to his waist, levelling his gaze. "Hey, you. What are you up to?"

city’s your playground | b&r

At his most genuine 'thank you's and generally touched response, Brendon looked dubious, as if Ryan would lie about being grateful or something. No, he definitely meant it; most people found themselves touch-starved on occasion, but for Ryan (who was proving to be way more sensitive than he thought himself to be, as time went on), it was virtually the opposite case. He longed for reason to believe that he meant something to someone, that he was important in someone's life, and here was Brendon telling him everything he needed to know. And Brendon was charismatic, could say whatever he wanted to get by, but there was nothing to sacrifice his invulnerability for. He had no reason to make it all up - and besides, he wasn't a jerk like that. No matter what, Ryan knew, Brendon wouldn't resolve to measures like that for anyone, much less his friend.

The words were easier for him to get out, had been on his mind and prepared as a script for a while now, so when Ryan returned the sentiment it was notably less remarkable. Still, he couldn't pass up the opportunity to say something like that to Brendon with appropriate timing for once. Brendon came to rest his forehead against Ryan's and he was pretty sure he was going out of his depth here. It was all endlessly romantic, and they were never that by any means, unless it unintentionally slipped into their daily interactions. Regardless, he could only hold his gaze for so long until the closeness was overwhelming, and he shut his eyes briefly as if he were checking whether the dream might disappear once he reopened them. It wasn't usually like him, but to inject a little humor into the circumstances he severely downplayed how exactly he viewed Brendon- cute, and dismissively, no less. As if. Sure, that was true, but he could also fill a notebook with plenty of other more colorful descriptors.

Apparently, Brendon didn't think he was all that funny. Ryan grinned at the shift in his expression anticipatorily, raising his eyebrows challengingly. You guess? All right - it stopped being funny pretty quickly, since Brendon was dead set on revenge. Ryan's smug smile dissipated for a moment, another quiet exhale drawn from his lips as Brendon pressed down again, and then he tried staying headstrong with a quick return to smiling triumphantly. That sounds uncommitted. You’re really starting to offend some people. Ryan attempted a casual shrug in spite of their entanglement, and looked semi-apologetic. "My bad, gorgeous," he tried again to replace just ‘cute’, fingertips scratching lightly at the nape of Brendon's neck. The list went on, voice turning velvety the more comfortable he got in these unfamiliar circumstances. "Stunning... handsome... striking. How's 'enchanting'? You're very princely. It'd work."

Unfortunately - and he knew it, so he wasn't too hurt when the attitude shifted - their little moment had to end sometime, despite his efforts to keep Brendon talking and opening up. At his careful initiative, Ryan unintentionally must've moved them along quicker than he'd expected. There wasn't a lot of time to feel bad about that when he was more focused on Brendon, everywhere, dominating his thoughts. For once Ryan was the one to draw a reaction from him and he smiled at the way Brendon lost focus, once again self-satisifed, but apparently things always had to be out of balance 'cause he was quickly back to his state of being constantly caught off-guard. Brendon unexpectedly brought his hands up to shape his face, and Ryan was fairly certain he'd never been kissed as passionately before, barely able to reciprocate for a good second. Or maybe he just couldn't access his memories at the moment. Stupefied, he brought his free hand around to cradle Brendon's jaw, too, mirroring his actions as best he could with the distraction at hand.

If you just wanted to talk, baby, you can go home and call me. Baby. Ryan barely focused on the rest. As Brendon moved back, Ryan's hand venturing past his waistband glided up along his side again until he could no longer reach him, dumbstruck. Or, we can talk later. Sound like a plan? 'Later' sounded distinctively like maybe he wouldn't see this side again for a long while, but Ryan supposed out of all his options, going home was the worst... as amusing as it was to imagine. He studied Brendon for another moment despite the question not requiring any hesitation, then answered by closing the gap between them again, making a promise with himself for no more delays since he was generally responsible.

It'd only been around one when Brendon got home, and therefore they had very bad timing in that Ryan woke up in the evening, sun still out but dropping so the sky painted the walls amber through Brendon's window. They must've passed out for three hours, maybe more. To be fair, Ryan never slept anyway before then, and Brendon had been dealt a fairly shitty day - wait. Almost immediately after waking Ryan panicked a little, remembering he'd definitely promised to deal with all of Brendon's other plans, and what if he was too late now and not everything would be done by tomorrow, and why was he so concerned when he was pretty much in his dream spot. He was still entangled with Brendon, Brendon evidently too deeply asleep to have found some other place to escape overheating - and it was fairly cold inside anyway. Ryan's chest was pressed to his back, one arm slung loosely over his side, face tucked against his hair comfortably. And his other goddamn arm was dead asleep. Was a sudden wave of worry and the vaguely painful sensation worth moving for?

Not really, he decided, but he was familiar with the routine in which he had to get away in a timely manner, give Brendon his space. Two things were different, now: Brendon hadn't awoken first and disappeared to make himself a drink (or two, or three) or take a day-long shower, and they were... a lot gentler, closer, than they'd ever been before. Ryan didn't really like taking chances like this because they usually blew up in his face, but fuck it; thankful they were on Brendon's couch rather than a normal one they'd be even more stuffed up in, he barely shifted away, running his hand through his hair and over his face to recalibrate.

Ryan propped himself up unsteadily on his dead arm to look at Brendon, wondering how to approach this without potentially scaring him in the confused waking state, but then again Brendon was used to waking up to company. Bonus that it was more of him lately. Bold, he curled a hand around Brendon's shoulder, smoothing his thumb back and forth before trying to turn Brendon more towards him. "Hey, B, wake up, I think my arm's done for," he said fairly quietly, voice lower from sleep. He almost tested out 'baby' the way Brendon had used it, but. "Also, I feel you should know that you look especially Apollonian right now." He grinned, amused, first at the dim light-drenched Brendon then throwing a glance over his shoulder at the sun responsible for illumunating them.

stardust in my eyes ;; b&r

The sleepy smile Brendon gave him felt like something new to him; for a few brief moments, he looked so soft that Ryan almost felt like he was admiring him from afar, not actually actively talking to him. He'd admit it was something of an overreaction if only this wasn't a particularly special case, in that Brendon really did just have that sort of effect naturally. Ryan felt like he'd known him forever, a certain heartache, when he caught him in thought with his bottom lip between his teeth, or watched him run his hands through his hair ten times in one minute to fix it without seemingly realizing it, or when his accent proved to be particularly strong when he was worked up about something. It'd been a while since he had been around someone with Brendon's allure, and it existed in his personality, too, not just physical. That said, he probably blew whatever normal response people usually had to an attractive person way out of proportion. To him, the famous 'butterflies' were something that threw him completely off whatever train of thought he'd been on, and, depending on the day, made him either want to stay around Brendon as much as he could or excuse himself to avoid the almost nervous feeling.

All very new, or at least things he'd become unaccustomed to. Of course he got nervous around anyone he thought was cute, handsome, pretty, whatever, of course he'd had to deal with the high school awkwardness of fidgeting around your crush. Which usually lasted around a week or a month. So maybe he'd get used to Brendon eventually. Anyway, as many times as he'd gone through it, he hated how much liking someone even a little would nag at him. Brendon was different, though - it made sense that he was often on Ryan's mind, considering he was employed to help him and he was staying in his house and the list of excuses went on. Luckily, then, Ryan tormented himself a lot less for not being able to concentrate, and anyway if he was working without focusing Brendon would find a way into the book without him even trying. Seamlessly, subtly detailed in, but definitely there. So maybe he helped as inspiration, too.

All this from a smile. Ryan questioned himself for a second there, 'cause when did that happen, when had his mind decided he'd be that easily charmed, but. Too late now, apparently. He shook it off, metaphorically speaking, when Brendon yawned, more evidence that he definitely needed to go to sleep and Ryan needed to leave him be. He had all the time in the world to sleep, eventually, but Ryan was beyond entertained at the moment, thanks, please stay. Thank you. Ryan watched him duck his head and made another mental note, this time to compliment him more. He, decidedly, liked the way it seemed to actually make Brendon feel better, how he reacted so genuinely. It felt like he needed to ease off at this point, though, 'cause it was like any time he took notice of something about Brendon, Brendon became self-conscious, regardless. It was sweet - but he wasn't a fan of keeping Brendon on edge like that.

Ryan observed as he assumed a more casual position, and frankly it was beginning to feel like they were chatting. Not just talking. Very funny to him. Not so funny: how his mind drifted, wondering how exactly Brendon still looked the way he did when he hadn't slept in hours, hair a half-tamed mess that somehow worked on him. Ryan tried not to be too obvious about those opinions, though, 'cause Brendon was just barely coming off the edge. I want a job, don’t I? Ryan considered this, started to speak, paused, then started again. "At this point, you'd have to try very hard to lose it," he mused earnestly, and there was probably something in those words, but mostly he just hoped Brendon took it as approval. Ryan may have made him as comfortable as he could with the house itself, but he couldn't say the same for how Brendon was with him; he wasn't so sure he'd established himself as approachable, anything like that, even though he longed to.

I’d say it’s more- self-preservation. If I had a little more job security, you’d be in pieces by now. Ryan knew he was kidding around for the most part, but there was truth in what he was saying, and he wondered how exactly to tell Brendon that he was safely on board, not just trailing behind in some shitty inflatable lifeboat. Well. He could say that, but Brendon probably wouldn't take him for his word no matter how he said it. What was more important: actions. Somehow he'd have to work to make Brendon feel a little more welcome, which was difficult to do when at first he acted kind of like his house was being invaded, short and irritable, half the time. But then he got used to it, for the most part, which was good news for both of them.

And yet there you are, a musician. Corrupting your own. Brendon may be cute, but Ryan didn't take well to any kind of criticism even if it was in jest. He looked vaguely annoyed, because who cared, it certainly wasn't hurting him now and the future didn't exist to him yet, and also - "You say that as if I actually sing. There's nothing to corrupt." And it wasn't a lie coming from him, because it was his genuine opinion that he didn't really sing often enough or on-key enough to count, not even as backup. Actually- especially as backup. Harmonizing looked like hell. What, you want me to serenade you right now? Yes. Easy. What would I even sing? Ryan had noticed long ago the portrait of who obviously Brendon idolized - in fact he'd pretty much gotten an insider look at it on his first day meeting Brendon, turning their handshake into an examination - but he doubted Brendon could pull it off in the dead of night, obviously tired as hell, with zero preparation. Then again, Ryan was learning that Brendon was pretty effortlessly good at everything (that Ryan had seen, anyway), so maybe none of that mattered. "You're pretty confident for a guy that looks like he's about to fall asleep standing up. Sure, serenade me with your favorite song. Rain check if you actually do pass out."

It was on him for bringing up the subject of the actual work they were meant to be doing when Brendon clearly still hadn't come to terms with the fact that Ryan was easy enough that he'd accept, like, three pages as a reasonable answer. Brendon had only just gotten here, anyway, and he was planning on explaining away what would inevitably be slow progress with them building rapport and understanding one another. They'd accepted it as a rational excuse already, no big deal. But Brendon didn't seem like he was as careless about the matter as Ryan; in fact he was visibly anxious about the matter despite how controlled he kept it. As long as he could fix the issue, Ryan pretended to be oblivious to it to spare Brendon the grief, and it seemed his diversion worked. He wondered what exactly this all stemmed from. Scared of deadlines? Fear of disapproval? Ashamed, whatever, that he hadn't made a more substantial amount of progress? Ryan wasn't sure. He could be perceptive, but Brendon, in turn, could act whatever role he needed to.

Oh. Yeah, it’s uh, heavy- I was wondering where the inspiration to write that kind of shit comes from. Is it not draining? The suddenness of that, and the way Brendon played everything off, was beyond impressive. Ryan dwelled on that before the question itself, and then realized this was probably going to be difficult to answer with conviction. His eyes drifted to the floor, hesitating, and then returned to Brendon, still unsure of an approach. "It is," he said honestly, cutting to the chase. "But then you let yourself recover, give yourself breaks, before you're drained all over again." He smiled cynically at the process - it wasn't exactly efficient, but he hadn't practiced anything else, and it was still effective, so whatever. And he thought maybe that this way of thinking could apply to Brendon, outside of writing, so he said it carefully, trying to make him understand."It's worth it. When everything coalesces into one piece... and you see it all bared out in front of you. I can't express it. Suddenly you're not just jumbled thoughts and disjointed experiences; you're whole." And it's all tangible, written for you to read, and probably be the only one to make an accurate analysis of every cut corner and every vague wave to something deeper. But Ryan hadn't talked this much for, like, ever, so he cut himself off.

He got antsy pretty quickly, straightening and turning without asking Brendon to follow, just expecting. He kept his gaze ahead, focusing on maintaining his white-knuckled grip on the coffee mug he'd been nursing. Brendon deserved more than that, and Ryan wasn't that scared of making the slightest allusion in front of him. After a pause he contributed more to his answer, arriving in the living room. "I wrote a lot when I was growing up," he said, no inflection to his tone. As a matter of fact, he used 75% of that material, at least. The firsthand accounts, all at progressing ages, gave the feeling that you were getting older with it, even without any clarification of his age. And he was a fairly dramatic kid, which helped. Ryan finally stopped nervously standing, skirting the room, and dropped onto one end of the sofa. "I'd read my own old writing - sounds weird, I know. But I think you can be your own inspiration. You must write lyrics, right? So you get it." He probably could've responded in hundreds of different ways, but this was most relevant to the book in question - something sappy like 'you can get inspiration from anything' followed by a long winded speech was reserved for another time.

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

When they were under the metaphorical interrogation lamp that was the vigorous press and media surrounding their band, Ryan (and probably Brendon, to more or less of an extent) had plenty of reasons to hide his relationship, all of which were rational in his head. He could be as unsubtle and touchy as possible, but weirdly enough drew the line at actually confirming peoples' suspicions - their saving grace was the fact that the rest of the band was fairly comfortable with each other anyway, all platonically hung over each other or using someone as a pillow because they were that close of friends. He was concerned about safety, firstly; if someone didn't like their relationship, it would most definitely come back to Brendon first and foremost just because he was the frontman, the most easily accessible. And then he simply didn't like sharing the parts of his life that were no one else's business. He didn't answer any other personal questions, either, so this one constantly forced on them was no different.

An extension of that, he knew interviewers would just get more inappropriate and intrusive if they were honest, and every boundary they'd carefully drawn out and tried to sustain would be for nothing. Plus, what about Jon and Spencer? If Brendon and Ryan became the focus just for this new development, their friends would fade into the background, and probably the actual music they created. They were decidedly musicians before they were public figures. There was plenty more Ryan worried about, but the point was that hiding it was never out of not wanting to be associated with Brendon like that. In fact, any descriptor that kept them in close ties was more than welcome to him. Anyway. As far as he knew, no one ever found out for certain until they actually reconnected, and Ryan had very rarely been approached about it thanks to the mere fact that he rarely went anywhere people would make a big deal of it or agreed to interviews. Brendon, though, evidently had gotten quite a few questions over time, but when Ryan noticed the trend of people wondering whether the split was because of them, he deliberately tried to avoid those parts of the interview if he even saw it in the first place.

It was just unfathomable that they'd come from that, to here. Years ago he'd be scared to hold Brendon's hand in public, or in the very early stages he'd even been cautious of walking too close to him. Now here they were, reliving the beginning of it all, except this time they were so secure with one another that everything was on the surface, completely receptive to one another rather than circling around subtext. Ryan would even say they were comfortable if Brendon hadn't been so nerve-wracked up to the actual proposal - thankfully it quickly faded with reassuring words and Ryan's eventual acceptance. What else could have happened? Ryan wasn't sure about fate, but some force was keeping them tied to one another. Like a Japanese legend he knew, where lovers or life partners destined to find one another were connected by an invisible red string tied round their little finger. The string could undergo duress, contract and stretch and tangle, but it didn't break. He might've thought it was sweet but too idealistic if he'd never met Brendon - now he understood the legend completely.

Brendon looked what words could not describe, smiling through the kiss he pressed to the back of Ryan's hand, but some words could come close; princely, enchanting, most importantly: devoted. He knew it before, but Ryan felt they were definitely in this for the long run, and he was about ready to make his vows, if only time could hurry up without letting him miss out on the engagement period. You never know. Alright, the only reasonable situation in which he'd say no was if Ryan himself wanted to propose, turn it around on him. But he wasn't that competitive. Thought maybe you’d want revenge on me for dumping you for no reason. Ryan accepted him closer, wrapping his arms round his waist, and thought that he had a pretty good reason at the time. Why force him into something he wasn't ready for? The time let him think about it - and now, look, it was worth it. Ryan realized distantly exactly how proud he was of him and might've even droned on about it if he wanted to be even cornier. Alas, he rolled his eyes amusedly at Brendon's speculation.

Since we met? I know I’m pretty, baby, but did you have that much of a crush on me? "Pretty? You're selling yourself short," he answered, even though he knew Brendon was just teasing. "And it wasn't just that. I liked everything about you so fast - and, y'know, kind of got carried away thinking about what could be. So, yeah, sort of a big crush." He shrugged nonchalantly, like it really was something casual to just throw out there, laughing softly all the same. It was the truth; his first impression of Brendon was obviously fond, learning he was pretty much all talent, maybe 1% human. And when he got a better look at him, he instantly memorized Brendon's features, suddenly disinterested in everyone else; when he actually recruited him it just meant that he had more positive traits to show for - his sense of humor that shouldn't have but somehow went well with Ryan's, his constant energy, his endless empathy. The list went on. With all that in mind, of course Ryan's mind would drift to ambitious places.

All yours. He didn't really need the reassuring, honestly. But Ryan somehow felt even warmer from those two words alone, even more enthused about what was in store for them. Forever. I love you. Brendon had revolutionized the word. Ryan was pretty sure he'd be finding it frequently in anything he wrote from now on, straight from the subconscious. "I love you," he returned softly, considering him closely with a reserved smile. God, they were sickly sweet - except for when it came to talking about Ryan's curse of a name. Darling. Ryan prepared himself. You know I love you more than anything, but if I had to take your name, I wouldn’t marry you. "Understandable," Ryan piped in, instantaneous. I wasn’t meant to be Brendon Ready. Ryan shook his head, looking like this was such a tragedy. Ryan Blake... That’s nicer. Hearing it from his mouth, voice all velvety, was something on a whole different level. Ryan looked touched, and then - George Ryan Blake. "Ouch. Didn't see that one coming." Somewhere in the back of his mind, he definitely did. Ryan grinned at him despite the urge to roll his eyes again, and pointedly did not tack on 'the third' to fuel his amusement.

Ryan had had plenty of time to fantasize in his own way about how they'd turn out, what they'd do, where they'd live, so on; now he was excited to hear Brendon's thoughts, to know how in tune they were should their visions be similar. Brendon's instant enthusiasm was infectious, and Ryan easily leaned back with his guidance, resting until he could gaze up at Brendon with what was apparently a permanent smile. He kept his hands on either side of Brendon's waist, absently drawing his fingertips in gentle circles with one hand. Three dogs. Ryan liked the sound of that - and it wasn't just Brendon's hand coaxing through his hair that endeared him to the idea. He was certainly getting too relaxed from it, though, more serene by the second. They’ll wake us up in the morning and we’ll stay in bed for as long as we want. We could be in silence, on separate sides of the bed, or together, kissing til we’re breathless, and it wouldn’t matter because we have hundreds of mornings to vary and each one will be perfect as long as I spend it with you, my husband, my love.

By the end of it Ryan was very quiet, more engrossed in Brendon's voice the longer he continued - and, frankly, speechless. He was trying his hardest to control how obvious his delight translated to his expression, but it was near impossible, especially when Brendon pressed a kiss to the corner of his mouth like Ryan would usually with him. Funny how that worked. Cringy, huh? "Very. And I love it." His busied hand at Brendon's waist migrated up to rest at the back of his neck instead, thumb brushing carefully over his hairline. "Those dogs are going to be so spoiled," he laughed, already imaginative. "We'll travel. See the world together, and this time it won't just be for a tour. And we'll always live somewhere where we can make music together, always have time for each other... and even if we're apart, we'll know we can come home to one another. As long as I have you, nothing else matters. I love you more than life -" He leaned up to press a kiss to Brendon's jaw, staying close to continue. "More than music-" He moved to Brendon's cheek to kiss him again, with certainty. "More than anything." He caught his lips last of all, lingering until he couldn't, and then lowered his voice to repeat after Brendon. "Cringy, huh?"