jakob

nothing friendly at all

A force of habit, Ryan's mind kept drifting to negative, hateful places, wanting to be angry with Brendon for whatever reason and come up with criticisms. Despite that, he could never maintain anything, or even come up with something genuine like he might usually. A couple of days ago he'd be teasing Brendon for something stupid and totally inane, like how he looked just-woken-up, or how tactile he was being, or anything within that realm of ridiculousness; now he couldn't muster up annoyance with him even if Brendon would deliberately try to irritate him. Well- maybe that was speculation. He supposed, eventually, there had to be something that would end this spell, and in all fairness it probably wouldn't be Brendon's fault even then, but still. Ryan wasn't excited to see what broke this. He could imagine them falling into a routine, maybe not clearly imagine it but toy vaguely with the idea at least, and it was... nice. It's not like he'd particularly enjoyed how comfortable they'd become with the dynamic of making one another's lives miserable.

This was almost... domestic, for lack of a better word, like they'd been in each other's good graces forever when the reality was the exact opposite. Or, realistically, Ryan had just always wanted this subconsciously and fulfilling that want was key in improving his mood. After all, he was feeling pretty much nothing about the official end to a year-long trainwreck of a relationship, and everything about this new start. When he thought too hard about it he got butterflies, when he didn't think at all he felt dumbly content, when he could allow a thought in his head all it was was a mantra of Brendon's name, elated and confused all at once. But he was coming to terms with the confusion, so. Not all bad. And the more Brendon won his fondness over with tiny actions, the easier it was to do that. He watched Brendon try to fix his hair only to end up fussing over Ryan's interference with amusement, very carefully smoothing the stubborn curl that remained in his face even after a great deal of effort to fix it back into the rest of his hair with his thumb. After, he kept stroking through, absently running comforting fingerpads over the locks even after they were straightened out to perfection. I can pull it off. He could pull anything off, and Ryan might've said so had he not been juggling two conversations already - instead he smiled easily, unused to sending such a warm look Brendon's way.

Apparently the way to Brendon's heart was food. Ryan could've guessed - he'd seen his snacking habits, really, couldn't avoid it when they lived in such close quarters; while Ryan himself wasn't all that healthy he'd always criticized Brendon for them because it was an easy target. But now all he could think was that it was endearing, watching him perk up just because of the mere mention of breakfast food. Unexpectedly, Ryan was pulled along as Brendon leaned both of them back, comfortably landing against the headboard when Brendon planted a garden of little kisses across his skin. Ryan's chest felt tight again, that dangerous swooping feeling in his stomach returning, but he couldn't bring himself to quite be scared of it in this position, in this moment. Maybe sometime later he'd have his own personal freakout session, and it would probably not present itself in the best way to everyone else, but nevertheless- right now, he was okay. This was nice, if unfamiliar, bizarre. Good weird.

It was easy to tune out the angry ranting of his soon-to-be-ex, or maybe current-ex, who knew if she was accepting the breakup, when Brendon was all over him like this, when he was all over Brendon. Not that he was the distraction. Brendon had pretty much been his primary focus for a good twenty-four hours or so, now, and everything else was background noise. Funny how quickly things changed. Me too. He was so quiet, nervous about it, that it was sweet, so unlike Brendon and charming as hell. Ryan smiled reassuringly at him, cocking his head a little to the side, and there was another first for them. Hey, where there’s a will, there’s a way, right? Well. Seems his confidence had come back. Ryan shifted along with him to allow him space when he moved a bit, but evidently Brendon couldn't do much more than that tiny amount of movement. Ryan withheld his laughter, very conscious of his volume, and soothed a hand over Brendon's chest while he recovered.

I don’t think I’ll be able to bend enough for anything. Ryan knew his thought process already, watching his gaze dart around, and was mid-eyeroll before he even started speaking again. That means you’ll have to go and meet room service. And close the blinds. Bottom privilege. "Yeah, yeah, fair enough," he compromised, his hand still on Brendon's chest until it dropped between them while he listened to Keltie. And, hey, another first. Ryan was fairly certain he'd never agreed with Brendon on anything, except maybe that they didn't like one another. Which had clearly changed. There could be plenty of nuance to the situation that Ryan was glazing over, like maybe this had nothing to do with liking one another and everything to do with his emotional turmoil or their heightened lust or something else he couldn't pick up on, but for now all he'd settled on was that the bad blood was something of the very distant past, something he couldn't even imagine feeling now. A complete one-eighty, maybe temporary, hopefully not.

Moments later he was off the phone, that era of his life over, a new one in the works, and he and Brendon were the image of a couple, almost. He had his arms curled round Brendon nearly protectively, Brendon tilted up to him receptively, like there'd never been any bad blood at all. During the pause Ryan could only stare right back, the admiring thoughts on Brendon's mind reflected identically, taking him in like he'd never seen him before. A new light, he supposed. I... I’ve been telling you that for years. The break off there was a little concerning but Ryan appreciate his light effort at teasing, trying to keep up some semblance of normalcy between them. Ryan shook his head slightly with a miniscule smile on his face, amused, and swiped a thumb over his temple calmly. "Damn. Should've listened to your insight." They were actually maintaining some kind of banter now. God. Ryan felt a pang of heartache for a moment, thinking of all the wasted time, every occasion where he could have known Brendon and just... didn't.

He moved on fast, though, because at the reminder of possible breakfast Brendon was lighting up again, wrapping around Ryan and then looking thoughtful. Ryan waited patiently, mostly because he had a good view from here, given access to Brendon's neck when he exposed the line of his throat so clearly. Ryan tilted down, softly pressing his lips to his Adam's apple, just a few counts of Mississippi before he was leaning back again and Brendon was going with him, fitting against his chest. Ryan held him upright obediently, holding him tightly, more intimately as he painted another picture of kisses alongside his face, smiling the closer he got to his lips. Why not - Ryan met him in the kiss easily, on the verge of laughter, his expression reflecting the contentment without issue. ...Both? Ryan let go of the laugh, soft and breezy, and nodded instantly, kissing him again. Instead of answering directly he leaned to the side, rolling off Brendon and landing beside him on his back, the hotel room phone in his hand. The front desk picked up fast and he stared at the ceiling as he spoke, pushing his free hand through his hair and holding it atop his head.

"Hi, can I get pancakes and waffles sent up to 203?... An order of everything, that'd be great. Yeah- every flavor. Thanks." Ryan stretched out, catlike, and put the phone back, hanging his arm off the side of the bed. He considere the window, the blinds, decided against it for now. "Am I your favorite yet? I got you all the flavors. That includes chocolate chip, man." And maybe that was welcoming some weird, uncomfortable discussion about how yesterday Ryan had been Brendon's least favorite and arguably still could be, but. Whatever. He was not, coincidentally, thinking straight.

catch me like a cold

Brendon could see right through him. Ryan knew it. And yet he couldn't figure out how to make himself less transparent how to be less obvious about everything. He'd thought that morning when they woke up together that he'd been clear enough about how he felt (although he hated how he felt, so maybe that came across, too), and now Brendon didn't have anything else to learn, but apparently such a long time of him sending the wrong signals, only entangling them further in a web of misdirected hatred and misguided antagonism, had made it impossible to turn back the clock and redeem himself. If he ever wanted his true thoughts and feelings to be anything but 'ammunition' then he had to completely, entirely change his and Brendon's relationship, one that he himself had forced to start out not just on a bad foot, but on a horrendous one. It wasn't really anyone's fault but his own, that in mind. Mostly Brendon had been defending himself all along.

Hey, your loss. He looks great naked. Ryan hated how casual he was being. Here he was, genuinely fuming, and Brendon thought it was all a goddamn joke. Forget that morning - that had been some kind of fallacy. Something he made up, probably, something he was misremembering. Surely he hadn't felt that kind of softness towards Brendon of all people, not the Brendon he was standing before now, where all he wanted to do was find weak spots and attack (which didn't really make sense. He was mad out of jealousy - why try to convince himself he didn't like Brendon at all if that fancy was the driving force behind all of this?). Anyway. He scowled even further, if it was possible, and rolled his eyes, not even bothering to let a picture enter his mind that would ruin his day even more. Silently, he begged Brendon to take him seriously, despite the fact that that would probably just spell a more intricate fight.

He supposed they weren't getting anywhere with him acting like a child, though. Ryan sucked it up, came out with some honesty for once (maybe not for the best - last time he was 100% honest about what was on his mind, it started this whole ordeal). Brendon looked almost confused but maybe like he believed him, until a cynical smile formed, and Ryan was instantly exasperated, turning his face to the ceiling while he anticipated this being stretched out even further. Would you mind telling me why? Ryan gazed at him for a moment, thinking this through, trying to consider what the outcome would be of actually continuing his truthful streak, but. He was also kind of very fucking irritated by Brendon's tone, so. He let it be. Tabled the discussion for the time being. It's not like it really mattered, because Brendon clearly already knew that the reason he cared when Brendon kissed anyone who wasn't him was because he was jealous as all hell, and the reason he was so unbelievably jealous was because he had these indescribable feelings that he didn't want to put a name to. Affection? Surely he couldn't be this pissed and irritated with someone he felt any kind of affection for. But there was no accurate word for them.

Ryan humoured him being childish, kind of, and Brendon seemed unperturbed, just slowly smirking and almost-sighing, turning away to study himself in vain. Ryan glared back at him in the reflection, for once too busy being spiteful to even think about petty distractions fueled by lust. This time all he saw was his replacement - or maybe that's what he told himself, anyway. Have you seen me? Funny he should say that. Ryan laughed again, the short, cruel one, and raised his eyebrows, sickened. "Yeah, getting sick of it, too." When he turned he thought he saw an edge of Brendon being unsettled, maybe by how Ryan himself looked in response to him, but. Probably his imagination. Not like anything took Brendon off guard. Anyway, who said anything about putting out in the first place? You put those words in my mouth. You don’t know what we were going to do. Maybe I’m allowed to make out with people, and it not be a prelude to anything else. Ryan opened his mouth to argue without thinking, but he was pretty much right. Great. Ryan stopped, narrowed his eyes, tried a few different angles to this. Maybe 'sure, let me show you, I can make out without doing anything else.' But he didn't have anything solid. So... "Shut up," he said, with dwindling confidence.

I think you’ll recall a few times that we have, Ryan. But, you know, you probably forget. All blends together for you. "That's different, it's not like we have anywhere else-" Ryan paused, reconsidered what he'd said, the implications behind him. All blends together? Why would he forget? Did Brendon think he was taking this all for granted, that he didn't give a fuck about any of it? It must seem that way - Ryan could understand the misconception, honestly. It's not like he was always very kind, at all. And... he fet sort of bad about it. If Brendon was thinking that, then he had valid reasons to, and therefore Ryan wasn't doing his part to show that he did care, he did place value in this, in them. Whatever 'them' was, if it even... was. It killed him to think that, really, even when he was unendingly irritated with Brendon at the moment. He must've thought he was getting screwed around, used and thrown away. And it's not like Ryan gave him reason to believe otherwise. It made sense. Fuck. Ryan's expression fell somewhat, giving in to the remorse that settled over his bones, that wouldn't leave. He forgot to find something else to say, too scared he'd reveal himself, too.

Too late to worry about that, though, because moments later Ryan was being typically possessive, accidentally going too far. He knew he was in trouble the instant Brendon's expression shifted, a warning. There is no us. There could be. There was in Ryan's head. It's like- they were meant to, so... but that was too much. There is me and there is you and sometimes, we fuck. And, yeah, it’s good. That doesn’t mean there is an us. Ryan felt something weak tug at his chest, and suddenly he wanted to sit down, to leave all of this alone before Brendon said more - or, God forbid, before Ryan said more and regretted his own callousness. It's not like Brendon was being cruel, compared to his own treatment in the past and present. Nor does it mean that we are exclusive or that I am here to relieve your permanent boner whenever you feel like it. Ryan's eyes followed his gesture then rolled dramatically, turning aside at Brendon's accusations and wishing he wouldn't make it sound so. Cheap. But then Ryan had never done anything differently himself. And here he was, finally considering his hypocrisy.

I’m a human being, you know, and I know you’re capable of treating me like one. Ryan stilled, blinking slowly and looking back at Brendon again, meeting his gaze carefully. Did he really think...? Yeah, again. No reason to believe otherwise. This was on Ryan - he'd never done his part. And it's not like Brendon had to much. He wasn't the one who, 90% of the time, was the first to shun the other once they were out of their soft 'modes.' Ryan just got way too overly defensive, with little regard to Brendon's feelings except for when he thought too much about him. You just- you just won’t. Brendon's gaze dropped and Ryan was stuck staring at the dejected line of his shoulders. You fooled me in Seattle for just a second that you cared about me. It was too much, and Ryan spoke up instantly, his voice a completely different, more controlled tone. "I do care about you," he said, feeling the prickles of embarrassment naturally, reflex, but pushed on. He moved closer, not trying to touch yet, felt like Brendon would just flinch away.

"I have a problem when you're with other guys because I care. I want there to be..." Ryan froze up on the word 'us,' tried to navigate around it, desperately didn't want to be rejected if that sounded too much like a proposal. "I don't want there to be anyone else. I do care about you. This isn't just... fucking, okay? It's not that. I get freaked out and I make it seem like I think that, whatever, but I don't, that's not what this is to me." He stopped and let his voice soften a little, quelled his instinctively slightly aggressive approach to addressing this to revert back to honesty. He sucked his bottom lip between his teeth momentarily, considering, then dipped his head finally to speak where it was less difficult. "When you let me stay, that night. That morning, even. That meant everything. I'm never going to- not care." His voice had been gentle, but after another pause it picked up a roughness, suddenly with conviction again. "So don't say I don't care about you, or any of this bullshit about it all blending together, because you're wrong."

stay afloat || b&r

Ryan wondered how he could get closer without it being too unforgivably weird. Maybe he could hand over the renter's paperwork, sit beside Brendon while they went over it, play off the bumping shoulders by a purely coincidental need to conduct business. More than that he was still baffled by how different Brendon was. It's not like Ryan lived under a rock - he worked with people, had customers who were his type, saw people he thought were drop-dead gorgeous and only really thought that before moving on with his life. And it wasn't just interacting with Brendon that made the difference, he knew; even when he talked to those people, he didn't feel any urge to pursue anything, he knew he wasn't going to be around much for whatever came from it, and he didn't get enjoyment out of anything for longer than a few fleeting moments these days. Basically, anyone he found interest in, he just as quickly lost it. Nothing was good enough to capture his attention and make him want to stick around to learn more about it, or anything like that. His main goal on a day-to-day basis was to go through the motions.

But Brendon had this weird, innate allure, some air and energy about him that made Ryan want to be as close as possible just to feel that fantastic calm feeling he'd felt again, even if for a second. Everything he said was soothing - like the premise of him helping Ryan with his debts. Ryan didn't want his help, he even sort of felt bad when he thought about it actually happening, but the thought that he had that cushion to fall back on and the thought that someone gave enough of a shit to offer was... unspeakable. And Ryan wasn't even sure that he'd feel that way had it been someone else, say, the bizarre fucking weed dealer who'd applied the other day. Maybe this was some kind of model thing. All along he'd thought they needed no qualifications other than 'be beautiful or at least impressively photogenic.' No, apparently these people had to have something otherworldly and arresting about them. As much as Ryan was scared of the effect Brendon had, so much so that he sort of didn't want to mess with whatever supernatural force was at hand, he also never wanted him gone, didn't want to risk him leaving the apartment and that good feeling to never come back again.

It was dramatic as hell. But Ryan hadn't felt anything other than flat for a very, very long time, so maybe dramatic was better than nothing at all. Then you don’t get out very much. Ryan looked at him in a slightly worried way, flattered again, but. The way he was acting... it sounded like he was flirting, or at least interested. Maybe it didn't mean to be and that was just how he spoke - fuck's sake, he seemed incredibly religious, so it's not like he'd be intentionally trying to win Ryan's favor. But on the off-chance that was in fact the case, and Brendon thought maybe they could have a future, Ryan was deeply concerned for him. He couldn't let him stay if he was going to get attached to a hopelessly lost cause. After a moment Ryan had to look away, couldn't say anything more to that; he hadn't felt much more than resignation when he thought about his impending disappearance before, but now he felt awful, almost guilty facing Brendon when it was on his mind.

I’m not much of an instrumentalist myself. People who said that usually were. When Ryan could drag his attention back to Brendon, he looked dubious, but nodded nonetheless to show he was listening. I hope you can find the time to teach me. Ryan's mind drifted again. Sure, if he could find the time. His face betrayed him for a second again, looking vaguely upset and off to the wall past Brendon, and he played it off as thoughtfulness. "I will," he promised, knowing it was one he couldn't fulfill, but empty promises were sort of his specialty anyway. Everything was starting to drag him down now, although moments ago he'd been better than he had been in weeks just thanks to Brendon being here - still an unknown phenomenon he was starting to lose interest in figuring out - so he risked touching on the subject of Brendon's dad anyway, since it's not like he had a mood to kill.

He watched Brendon's reaction carefully, how he clasped his hands almost subtly and quickly. It was just as smooth as every other thing he did, just as fluid and seamless as his usual motions. Ryan didn't wonder much, kind of getting used to his oddities by now. It’s okay. Was it? Honestly? Sometimes Ryan questioned whether everyone brushed as many things off as he did, huge things that couldn't be brushed off but had to be for the sake of comfortable conversation. Or maybe other people really did just have relatively bad stuff happen to them rather than earth-shatteringly awful things. Nothing to play off, nothing to hide. Maybe he was being overdramatic - but he wondered what it was like. I know. Ryan stopped and looked at him somewhat seriously - was he that obvious, did he give himself away that easily, did everyone pick up on his deepseated issues as quickly as Brendon did - but he saw Brendon trying to correct himself and remained quiet, clammy. Something about him seemed suddenly panicky, though, and Ryan would be questioning it if it didn't freak him out a little. He'd only seen the guy be effortless and elegant about everything thus far - this was new, uncharted territory.

I mean. Somehow, despite his empathy failing him in every other situation, Ryan was unsettled by Brendon's sudden loss of composure, a strange feeling bubbling in his throat. I think I can just, tell. Kindred spirits, in that- area. Ryan nodded, hesitant, and something told him he should be calming the fuck down but his thoughts were still whirling, thinking about people 'just telling' and about IV drips and broken glass and opaque orange pill bottles. He shouldn't have cut his visit to his dad earlier so short, fuck. And he didn't even know why that was back on his mind now, of all times. It’s difficult, but we’re still here, right? Ryan stared at him for an extended moment, all of the nerves suddenly settling into one cynical feeling, something he was used to. He could've 'tch'ed and said 'yeah, right,' if he really wanted to. It was about how he felt on the matter, truthfully. In the end he nodded slowly, a small, private smile on his face. "Yeah, we're still here." Just maybe not for the long run, all of us.

The quick shift made it easy to act a little more cheerful again, sorting out his stupid wishy-washy emotions that were, for whatever reason, making a fun comeback. He finally addressed his curiosity, and Brendon looked like he'd been caught with his hand in the cookie jar, a bit. Is it really that obvious? I mean- yeah, you could say that. Ryan grinned, shrugged a little. "Maybe not that obvious until you told me God spent extra time on me. It's fine - not like that's something I'll forget." Really. Most weirdly flattering thing ever. But he seemed to sabotage himself moments later, probably too revealing about his personal life - and sure Brendon probably would've figured out sooner or later, but the picture of him trying to puzzle it together was deeply uncomfortable. Ryan shut his eyes and willed his heart to stop, like, now, so he wouldn't have to deal with repercussions. What do you- mean? Sounded like it was on the tip of his tongue. Ryan stayed quiet. Are you..? Not really. Maybe half, or three quarters. But still. "Gay? Sure. Feel free to take back all of the 'I'll help you with your debt,' 'we're still here despite everything' bullshit. And you act a little fruity yourself, so I'd advise not being a total asshole about it." An invitation to go if there ever was one. He'd jumped the gun somewhat - but it's not like Ryan ever had much patience with more negativity these days, even the possibility of it, so he was trying to nip this in the bud before it hurt more to think that Brendon might hate him for something out of his control.

catch me like a cold

Was it Seattle that held some kind of magic within it that made Brendon and Ryan change like that? Was it really just down to alcohol? Did another year older somehow change his entire mentality? Ryan had no idea why he'd so quickly gone from berating Brendon at every chance he got, attacking any tiny flaw or sign of weakness, to waking up next to him and holding him close, covering every convenient inch of his skin in wisps of kisses and wanting more. And, at the same time, he'd discovered which he preferred - the latter. It sounded obvious, really, because who wanted to hate and lash out on the constant, but that had become such a comfortable routine between himself and Brendon that he'd never expected anything else to seem appealling. When he learned how Brendon looked after he'd been kissed breathless, suddenly that was so much more beautiful than him looking caught off-guard or frustrated following a comeback. When he learned how he sounded in pleasure rather than in irritation, yeah, the answer was pretty obvious. Ryan knew the kind of turn he'd like their relationship to take, just had no clue how to initiate it or admit it to himself.

So he didn't, on either account. Sometimes he had to force a fight when really he was just frustrated with himself for wanting to land a kiss or something in front of everyone. And then he denied every thought that came into his head - pretended every impulse to call him a pet name came not from a place of innocence but out of some dumb lust, or any time he caught himself thinking of how stunning Brendon looked he convinced himself it was no-romance, pure wanton. Keeping things mindless, terse, passionate and without explanation or dwelling, was crucial for his sanity - and probably to keep Brendon from never letting him live it down. He had no idea whether they were even close to feeling mutual, actually. If he had to guess, he supposed Brendon was just being strung along at this point. He knew Ryan better than anyone, shockingly enough, and with that in mind, if he had any sort of choice, he wouldn't be participating. Not to get self-deprecating, or anything; Ryan just couldn't come up with any reasonable explanation for the situation they were in.

Oh, please. Don’t tell me you wouldn’t have enjoyed the show. Ryan looked genuinely disgusted, scowling and recoiling. He crossed his arms over his chest defensively, shaking his head with disinterest after a moment of recovery from the image that popped forcefully into his head. Yeah, he really would not have. "I'd rather die, thanks." Besides, we weren’t even doing anything. Just kissing. You got a problem with me kissing other men, Ryan? Ryan gazed at him for an extended moment, the heat in his features fading minutely, because he supposed he sort of did have a problem with it and. It wasn't just jealousy out of some sexual possessiveness, whatever. He couldn't handle Brendon potentially starting something... real, with someone else. Granted, with all that he didn't tell Brendon and vowed not to ever, they weren't very real themselves, but still. His imagination ran wild behind the scenes, and someone else stepping into the picture made it harder to pretend, made it harder to see what they could be. Brendon's lips were parted and he knew it wasn't intentionally supposed to affect him, or anything, but Ryan's attention still dropped there, weak.

'No' was the obvious answer, the higher ground. And Ryan meant to dodge the question by saying that, he really did, but he didn't. "Yeah," he said in a more controlled voice, visibly losing tension. "Yeah, I do." Because he didn't want to look like he was giving in, though, Ryan cocked his head to the side defiantly as an afterthought, shrugging his shoulders in some sort of 'and what are you gonna do about it?' He was confused with even himself, honestly. And you’re being a cockblock, what gives? Ryan frowned at Brendon's ever colorful vocabulary, shutting his eyes in an effort to maintain what little patience he had on reserve. Brendon was turning already, losing interest, even when Ryan's anger-hurt-whatever was peaking. "What makes you so sure he was gonna put out? Again, it's not like you picked the best venue." At this point he was picking at crumbs to try and get back at Brendon. He watched him move, studying him at the same time he examined himself in the mirror. Ryan wasn't used to seeing him in this unkempt post-kissing state when he hadn't been the cause- he hated the feeling. He had to glance away, chew his lip while he redirected his attention to the floor.

Yeah. I have. If you have a problem with that, please, by all means, let me know. Ryan was pretty sure he'd been throwing enough of a hissy fit already, but sure, he could do more. But I have been going to him. He’s good. And- give him a break, you don’t even know the guy. Ryan scoffed, short and cruel again, shaking his head. "I don't need to know him. I don't need to know anyone to know that they're -" Not good enough for you? What, like he was? And since when was he allowed to care? Ryan broke off for a second, trying to rephrase. "...not supposed to be with you. What happened to us? Am I boring you, or something?" He sounded downright jealous at this point, couldn't help himself anymore. He'd stupidly concluded that they were exclusive, and didn't even clue Brendon in on it. No taking it back now, though.

nothing friendly at all

Initially Ryan had been tentative to show any signs of weakness Brendon could turn against him later on; now they seemed on equal playing grounds, and everything felt a whole lot less threatening from this angle. He didn't want to pull away to reaffirm his status as some kind of threat, and he didn't want to bite behind every kiss or scratch behind every touch just to make sure nothing between them was gentle. He wasn't afraid anymore. Anything that was biting or had an edge to it otherwise was purely coincidental, was the way they chose to operate anyway - there was no double meaning behind it this time, nothing about it was backing up some kind of upper hand or maintaining anyone's pride. He liked this dynamic, too. Just, any avenue they'd explored together thus far... maybe it was just Brendon that he liked. That was a bizarre thought. Ryan didn't immediately shove it away, too curious and desperate for a change, but he thought Brendon would hate to know what was on his mind. Fuck. That was grounds to make him mentally run along.

Fuck you. Ryan's gaze on him was probably too comfortable, too fond, drifting to soft and fantastical places even when he was having this conversation and he felt this awful. He was just thinking - he hadn't seen Brendon with anyone in the time they'd been in the band, or if he had, it was nothing particularly special or long-lasting or truly romantic. He had no shoes to put himself into, namely, no one to imagine taking their place. So his imagination ran wild, more wild than the one he so apprehensively presented to Brendon the night previous; he was thinking about how they'd be in that situation, how he could wake up with every morning like this one. They'd probably still argue, occasionally, but it'd turn into bickering, and they never picked on anything important to fight over so if things were different, the issues would dwindle so much quicker, hard feelings would fizzle into kisses and carelessness. He'd be able to hold Brendon like this, see the smile he'd only recently been introduced to, maybe see it at full power or hear his wholehearted, genuine laughter. Ryan just, wanted.

But he was being too obvious. After a few moments he blinked, once slowly then in quick succession, and his hand on Brendon's chest stilled from the soothing circles his thumb had been running over his skin. ’Cause he has sex hair, god, what a mess. It was hard to pretend like he wasn't totally drawn to that. Sounded sarcastic, but really, this playful part of them was getting to him. Ryan cracked up, pulling the receiver far enough away from his mouth just in time to get away with it, and shifted over Brendon punishingly. One hand rose to his head, self-concious, to stroke through the very confused curls, and he appeared to be right. "So do you," Ryan replied at another pause in conversation, clearly investing his mind more to what Brendon was saying than the more crucial topic at hand on his phone. And, because Brendon's hair was pristine, he quickly ruffled his fingers through his hair until they were even. "See?" he mouthed, raising his eyebrows in amusement.

Brendon called him, silently, on his totally not being sorry. Yeah, he knew him too well. Ryan chose not to honor it, though, sticking to his guns and trying to at least appear a little bit less heartless. I don’t get why you didn’t just break it off earlier. Ryan chewed his lip, thoughtful, and that was a good question. He supposed he wanted to be in a relationship, wanted to look like he was able to commit to something even if it was eating him up inside. And his relationship with Keltie had definitely left him raw and jaded. In fact, he'd had plans to not start anything up again at least for a long time until this, with Brendon. Not that he was planning to start anything with Brendon, either, just - he wasn't so afraid to have feelings, even if the direction they were going was... unexpected, to say the least. In response, Ryan just sort of shrugged, helpless. He should have broken it off long ago... and he should have followed his heart and done this with Brendon earlier, maybe ended up with him instead even though that ws a weird as hell image in his head. Still. It was nice, in theory.

In response to room service, Brendon popped up adorably fast, and Ryan instantly grinned at him, a quick turn from the morose look he'd adopted at the thought of Keltie. He let his eyes close, comfortable, when Brendon landed a few kisses on his neck, up to his jaw, leaning in to him easily. Thought you’d never ask, baby. If Ryan had some sense, the same alarm bells would be going off in his head, but his own thought processes had already run off the rails. He was way past just an accidental pet name. As it were, he felt his heart skip a beat, charmed, and let his breath rush out weakly as Brendon drew him closer to speak into his ear. Though I did already have breakfast planned. Ryan's eyelashes fluttered and he turned his head, mindlessly pressing his lips to the side of Brendon's face. "'Baby,'" he repeated quietly, as if Brendon hadn't been totally gross a second ago. "I like that. And - you're funny if you think we'll be able to bend enough for that. Seriously, rein it in." He was snickering, almost, still leaned up against Brendon, his forehead pressed to his temple when he uncovered the receiver and started listening to Keltie again.

She was still going, something about you do this all the time, you can't make a decision for yourself like an adult so you panic and push me away, so he cut into her talking. "I'm making a decision," he said clearly, and he supposed if he dwelled on that a little longer he'd realize the double meaning, feeling Brendon everywhere and tangled with him uselessly. As it were, he only let it apply to him and Keltie for now. "I don't want to do this anymore. That's all. I'm sorry." He hung up and dropped the phone aimlessly onto the mattress, then wrapped one arm around Brendon's waist securely, the other finding the side of his face to cradle. He brushed his thumb over the corner of his mouth attentively, studying his features close-up without reservation for once. "Hi. I'm sort of an awful person." That was, indeed, a terrible approach to breaking up with someone. He supposed that relationship in particular didn't need any sort of sensitive split, though, so maybe it didn't matter. After a pause, Ryan tried to move on, continue the most civil conversation he'd ever had with Brendon - while basically holding him. Weird day. "Which do you prefer, pancakes or waffles?"

nothing friendly at all

Ryan wished there was some clear way to navigate all of this. There was one thing that was obvious to him, unquestionable - the fact that he had to break up with Keltie now, before he wasted more of both their time, before someone was actually hurt. At this point it wasn't like she had much invested in them, either. But he couldn't figure out how to treat Brendon. All he wanted to do now was be... softer, gentler with him, because he was finding that he preferred Brendon's reaction to that; he didn't miss snapping at him and bickering and the damn near physical fights they got into, although it'd only been a day. Maybe that was the thing- it'd only been a day, not even that. This was probably all just a phase, a few moments of weakness where he thought he wanted this with Brendon. In any case, as long as it felt better and he could get away with it, as long as they were in this weird alternate universe of a hotel room, he was going to go along with the natural instinct to lose all of his old heavyhandedness around Brendon, not try to rile up the traditional meanspiritedness.

First things first, though: calling Keltie. He was caught in his tracks by Brendon, who didn't seem totally pleased about it all, but then Ryan wasn't sure Brendon even knew what was going on. He forgave the approach. I dunno, should you? Your call. I’m the princess here. A smile played on Ryan's lips, feeling like they were almost being playful with one another and his heart dipped in his chest in response. He turned his head slightly to where Brendon had hooked his chin over his shoulder to smile at him, the 'princess.' He didn't continue the banter, though, instead attempting to finish the call he'd started to make - only to be distracted by Brendon again. It made sense that Brendon wasn't quite as worn out considering he wasn't even a fourth as drunk as Ryan had been, but still, being this ready to make out this soon after waking up? Ryan was impressed, urging him with a steady hand at the back of his head, and felt his chest swell mysteriously when Brendon held him more tightly to his own body. For them, this was oddly comfortable.

He felt more than heard the low sound from Brendon against his shoulder, a tiny vibration before he was pulling away and more delicately dragging his nails down Ryan's back again. Ryan inhaled gently but audibly, tipping his head back to find Brendon's forehead pressed to the back of his neck. He grinned slightly to himself, his free hand falling to cover one of Brendon's when they came back around his waist, almost holding it. For the time being, he forgot to care about that not being a part of their relationship. You asked me to. True. Ryan remembered his own words from last night, knew he'd never be able to say the same things without a drink in him. He chewed his lip a little, somewhat embarrassed. And, besides. I think you bring out the animal in me. Okay, screw embarrassment, that won out. "You're corny as fuck," Ryan replied, laughter touching his voice, but his fingers were finding Brendon's hair again while more kisses came, so clearly he didn't mind all that much.

He wanted to tell him that, yes, the breakup was for his own sake, getting out of it would be good for him, but also it would free him up for Brendon specifically. And he nearly did. Brendon looked ready to hear something, maybe he thought Ryan was just going to argue about some other bullshit, but. He didn't say anything at all, played it safe. Moments later, too, he was on Brendon, straddling him far more innocently than either of them had in the past hours and splaying a hand on his chest to keep him far away from wherever would be an audible place to the phone. His greeting to Keltie felt wrong coming out anyway but seeing Brendon's face at the use of what was a natural, reflexive pet name - it did not feel good. At all. His hand on Brendon's chest loosened up when he saw the faint signs of sullenness overtake Brendon's features, blinking at him reservedly and looking vaguely apologetic. He smoothed his thumb over his skin in an effort to comfort him, a silent 'just wait,' and willed the little signals of sadness to go away because things had changed for them and he couldn't handle those.

Thankfully, Brendon looked defiant and smug pretty quickly after that, and that was so much better than sad. Ryan could deal with a self-righteous Brendon more than he could deal with a sad one. He read his lips: dickhead. Yeah, it was true, this was kind of bullshit and Ryan was realizing the extent of his bad idea pretty quickly. He raised his eyebrows threateningly at Brendon when he started laughing, to no avail. I appreciated last night, too. Ryan widened his eyes and jerked away from his touch, moving his hand from his chest to cover his mouth. He lost the nerve to when Brendon's hand shifted to his hip, distracted, dropping his head slightly and losing his focus. Go on, player, tell her where you are. Ryan bit his lip, trying to shift away from Brendon's touch because he was a little too powerful right now, but didn't succeed much. I’ll tell her if you want. Ryan flinched away from him when he reached for the phone, batting his hand away cattily.

He watched Brendon stretch out, the epitome of nonchalance while he was having a mini-freak out. Somehow it was calming - seeing him so relaxed in the wake of Ryan's blight made it seem like maybe he was blowing this all out of proportion. Maybe. Let me talk to her. "Fuck off," Ryan said, but he was grinning at him, dodging his hand again while he pressed the phone back to his ear. "I'm in Seattle, in a hotel. No - don't come, just. We can talk more in person later, but I know you're done with this, we've been practically done for months, so. I'm sorry." You're an asshole, you know that? You have some nerve - Ryan pulled the phone away again, covering the receiver while Keltie's voice continued on a tangent, and looked at Brendon, more casual. "This happens, like, every night. Wanna order room service? My treat."

nothing friendly at all

Ryan was hungover. Truly and genuinely. He'd been hungover before, of course, but not to this extent - the kind where not even greasy food and painkillers would help, but probably drinking more would. Not like he was going to risk getting drunk again, though, not after discovering how utterly stupid he became when he was. He woke up without remembering, just feeling a faint ache in his muscles and random pains here and there when he moved, and then, when he rolled his head over, the view of Brendon. He would've actually recoiled considering who he was and what their relationship had entailed up to now, but something about the way he looked... Ryan spent a few extended moments just watching him breathe slowly, the light slowly falling on him as it became brighter in the room, his messy hair curling around his face when it was long enough. Because he felt like his window of time between where he was alone in consciousness and Brendon waking up was closing, he took a chance then, reaching out and ever so gently moving a few strands of hair out of Brendon's face, tucking it behind his ear almost, hovering there for a few moments while his fingers starved to touch more.

And then he realized what he was doing and took his hand back like he'd been burned, facing the ceiling again with wide eyes and clutching his hand with the other against his chest. Ryan stared up above for a few seconds, wondering what the hell to do, what had he done, and memories started flooding back. He could feel the scars on his back against the sheets, almost painful except sort of intoxicating whenever they stung again, and remembered telling Brendon about how he'd always pictured that, Brendon recreating his imagination for him in what was evidently a detailed picture. The muscles in his arms ached, his hips sore, and though only one faint spot of purple was visible high up on his chest, Ryan suspected he was covered in hickeys. Like a first-time high-schooler. Embarrassing. But what led up to all of this was more important. Ryan remembered Keltie and felt his heart drop, shutting his eyes tight and willing himself to go back to sleep, stay that way forever where he didn't have to deal with the repercussions and didn't have to think about how he'd probably eternally fucked up the comfortable pattern he and Brendon had fallen into before this.

Was it really comfortable, though? Ryan's memory was spotty at best, convoluted at points, but he knew last night he'd had a few moments of weakness, treating Brendon far different from how he ever had before. That was new, and it'd felt... nice, almost. Not comfortable, just because it had been unfamiliar, but he'd liked it, liked to see how he affected him in different ways and liked going slower with someone he'd only ever jumped the gun around. Ryan stopped the drift of his mind and remembered his resolution from last night, how Brendon had talked him off the edge concerning how hopeless his relationship was with Keltie, made him see it all more reasonably. And now, with a panging headache and sore body but at least sober, he knew what he had to do. Ryan very slowly eased up into a sitting position, both because it hurt and he didn't want to wake Brendon as he looked so peaceful. The light was spilling in now, and Ryan felt too exposed, vulnerable, but he ignored it for the time being, pushing his hand through his hair and trying to orient himself more before he made this final call.

He leaned over, lifting his phone and wishing it was dead so he had an excuse not to have to deal with this now - it was, unfortunately, not. Ryan stared at it for a few moments then turned away from Brendon, his body protesting too much against all of his movements for him to fully leave the room but still not wanting to bother him. Ryan already had so many missed calls from her that all he had to do was click one of the red 'Keltie's on his call history, closing his eyes tightly while he held the phone close to him. A few beats, and he got a voicemail tone. Ryan only heard the automated apology before swearing under his breath and hanging up to try again, gripping his phone more intensely. He almost flinched at the sensation of touch along his back, still sensitive, until he realized it was Brendon, and he exhaled slowly, kind of turning his head to look at him, but not quite. Ryan bit his lip to suppress a hiss when Brendon wrapped himself around his back, bowing his head and shifting closer to him despite every instinct to move away.

He stayed silent, trying to first gauge how Brendon felt, whether this was a cruel gesture or otherwise. Morning, tightass. He should be annoyed. Ryan knew that, knew how he should react, but things were somehow different, and Brendon nearly burying his face into Ryan's shoulder wasn't helping how soft he'd suddenly become towards him. "Shouldn't I be saying that to you," he replied half-suggestively, their whole 'who's-a-bottom-who's-not' conversation coming back to him. What are you doing? Feeling a little delicate? Ryan's breath hitched slightly when Brendon's mouth landed on the junction of his neck again, the hand holding his phone dropping to his lap and the other curling around Brendon's head. Didn’t forget about me, did you? Ryan's voice came out more breathy than anything, head tipped back more against Brendon. "Not like I have much choice. I didn't realize you had fucking claws." Amongst other things. Despite the annoyed response he grinned and looked at Brendon, for once betraying the fact that he was only joking.

With that, Ryan tried to stay true to his resolve and redialed Keltie decisively, raising his phone again. He had bad timing - Brendon was trailing kisses along his neck, up to his jaw, and Ryan had to shut his eyes to stay focused, the hand curled around Brendon's head winding more protectively through his hair. Rude. He took his hand away, Brendon's kisses becoming too distant but no less affecting. Ryan opted to ignore him in case Keltie picked up before the rings ended. You wake up and you think about her. Flattering. Third ring. Ryan twisted to look at him testily, pressing his phone against his ear now rather than holding it vaguely close. He almost wanted to correct him, say he was doing this for them, but that sounded like... it was just too much. Are you gonna tell her you prefer sleeping with the person you hate the most rather than her? Ryan pursed his lips, trying to pull away from him now but slowly, turning from the waist and pressing a hand to his chest. Not fast enough, though. Some boyfriend.

Ryan huffed and turned fully around, flipping until he could move over Brendon instead, bracketing his hips with his knees and pressing his free hand to his chest to keep him away from the receiver. "If you don't shut the fuck up- Keltie, baby, good morning," he said, voice first irritated and quickly switching to sweet. It's nearly eleven, Ryan, came the vaguely annoyed voice from the other end, and Ryan knew he wasn't on great terms with her since last night. He blinked down at Brendon, wondering how the hell to approach this. Maybe if he wasn't hungover as hell he'd be more sensitive. For now, though... "Yeah, I - listen, Kelts, I had to leave early, we have this show in Seattle, I should've said something, I know." She started off with something like then why didn't you, but Ryan barrelled over it, nervous. "Just, for the past few months, we haven't been our best, and. Last night... I appreciate it, you know, but it was so far off base, I feel like... that was the final straw, you know? I feel like we're both- over it." Over what? Are you trying to break up with me over the fucking phone? Where are you? Ryan pulled his phone from his ear midway through that, wrapping his hand over the receiver and staring at Brendon helplessly while the full stupidity of what he was doing dawned on him. "Am I still drunk? What the fuck."

catch me like a cold

Unfortunately, Brendon did see the humiliating truth behind Ryan's personality. It's not that he necessarily lied about who he really was or had some kind of façade up - it's just that he never had any reason to show how vindictive and critical and mean-spirited he could be, not to anyone outside of his immediate circle who were conveniently there whenever it shone through. Well. 'Conveniently' might even be the wrong term. The only convenience was that Brendon was also present, and bothersome enough that he could dig and dig and dig all the way under Ryan's skin, all the way under his surface of sweetness and timidness and gentleness. In fairness, those were all kind of true as long as he was a safe twenty-foot distance away from his lead singer and otherwise had no reminders of him within sight. Whatever the case may be, it annoyed Ryan to no end that Brendon had that special privilege of seeing past him, and it was especially annoying that, as a result, Brendon saw no reason to give Ryan any kind of special treatment.

Since he'd found fame, all people wanted to do was protect and care for him, this dainty and boyish thing that got too big too quickly and looked doe-eyed and lost in the limelight. Brendon was not one of those people. To be as eloquent as possible, they'd fought and fucked and flirted and fussed, and now Brendon knew just about everything he needed to know to hold a constant upper hand over Ryan's head. Not even Spencer had come that close and they'd known each other longest. Their new situation was difficult and complex, sure, but it was something of a relief to know Brendon more intimately; now they had a secret to share that kept them from the edge of totally snapping and betraying the other, and Ryan didn't have to watch himself so much. Coincidentally there wasn't a whole lot to 'watch' anymore, either, considering their massive fights had dwindled into petty bickering, and when Ryan was annoyed with him he no longer put it on massive display for anyone else around - just approached Brendon to kiss him quiet when no one was looking. It was still messy, yeah, just not as bloody.

This incident, though, might end up saying otherwise. In the right, rational part of his mind, Ryan knew he was overreacting, he looked stupid and protective and too damn affected, but he couldn't stop himself. They hadn't even agreed to... not see other people, god, and that made it sound like they were seeing each other, and Ryan couldn't even think of any terminology he'd feel comfortable applying to their situation. They were nowhere near 'boyfriends,' that's for sure, but that's how Ryan was acting. He hated himself for it. More than that, he hated Brendon and his new toy, watching Brendon move off his lap but let one arm remain thrown over the line of his shoulders. Calm down, princess. Ryan's shoulders tensed even more, expecting him to be that irritating, of course, but without any comeback prepared. Funny- he was almost certain he'd used that nickname for Brendon under very specific circumstances.

He felt a bizarre sort of power in the way Brendon appeared to recoil at him moving closer, eyes trained carefully on his hands even when he made himself relax - clearly Ryan was successfully making his point. Ryan, this is Ian. Ian- this is Ryan. Ryan paused, thinking nothing of it until Brendon caught his eye and he realized there was an underlying message there. Keltie. When was that relationship going to quit fucking haunting him. If he'd have started with someone better - if he'd have gotten off on the right foot with Brendon... whoa. Ryan crashed that train of thought before it could spiral out of control. He scowled, catching the way Ian looked at him and instantly deciding he hated the guy worlds more than he'd thought possible. Yeah, whatever, he only picked you because you look like me. They both stood and approached and Ryan held his ground, taking his hands from his pockets and turning his chin up challengingly. Odd, he hadn't had this sort of fight with Brendon in a minute, the kind where the air was so thick it felt hard to breathe. He wasn't sure that he'd missed it - but it's not like he could resolve it in their new way with Ryan 2.0 here.

He felt another flare of possessiveness at the sight of Ian's arm around Brendon's waist, and it's not even like Ryan had ever shown that kind of gesture to him. In terms of sweetness or any kind of romance, they'd only ever skimmed the surface and quickly jumped away as if they'd been burned. Who said anything about cheap? Ryan glared while he looked more smug, amused, and hated how easygoing Brendon could be in the face of him being genuinely pissed now. In the beginning Brendon couldn't hold his ground nearly as well. Ian looked like he was listening, though, and Brendon let him off the hook. Okay, babe, call me. Or don't. Ryan looked triumphant for half a second before Brendon was turning and leaning up and - he was turning himself before he could see them kiss, pushing his hand through his hair and facing the wall tiredly. He kept his gaze carefully away until Ian came through his line of sight, walking through the door and letting the door fall shut behind him. Ryan didn't relax, just turned to Brendon again resignedly, feeling his fingers itch.

Brendon looked about as sick of him. Ryan watched him wipe his face, fold his arms, and it had been so quiet for a few moments that the exact extent of how ridiculous he'd been settled over him. He refused to feel bad about it. What's your fuckin’ problem, huh? Can’t stand missing out? Ryan let out a short, mean laugh, disbelieving. "My fucking problem is that anyone could have walked in. You're being an inconsiderate asshole." Even he knew that was weak. Ryan paused for a second, trying to choose his words carefully but unable to think straight. "What, everytime you reject me lately you're going to that asshole? What is it? Enlighten me."

in the sickness of you ;; b&r

Ryan knew his protective streak hurt Brendon, on occasion. When he pushed him away a bit, or distanced himself personally, to make sure that no one could catch him and ridicule him somehow (or worse), it was to protect Brendon. But, of course, while it was painful to step back from showing affection to someone he had so much affection for, Ryan knew it must feel worse on Brendon's end - almost as if he was rejecting him. What would hurt Brendon more than any of that, though, would be the repercussions of someone finding out, his parents knowing, the entire church knowing - and there were plenty of possibilities there. He'd be alienated instantly, scrutinized and judged and being told there were better paths, he could 'find God again,' or - and Ryan's second worst fear - he'd be disowned like so many in the same situation had been before him. His absolute worst was that maybe Brendon would be so desperate to escape all of the hatred and bigotry that he did break things off with Ryan, at least until both of them could leave and go somewhere far, far away from here.

So he continued doing whatever he could to hide it, enough for the both of them, because he wanted Brendon to stay safe and stable more than anything. 'Stable' may not be the exact right word to use here considering he lived most of every day with a family he didn't quite fit in with, in a home that probably felt suffocating and trapping, otherwise at a church that preached against him and continually enforced rules he could not keep up with, otherwise at school where he received a mixture of judgments from particularly bold students - so on. The situation was just... dire, at this point. Ryan tried his best to make up for the deeply upsetting circumstances Brendon was stuck in by being at his side as often as possible, caring for him as openly as he could, holding his hand all the way through (well, metaphorically, when eyes were on them). Whenever his mind drifted to it, he reminded the both of them that someday they'd be on their own, doing whatever the hell they wanted, in love and safe from everything that threatened them before.

Well, you read my fuckin’ mind. Ryan raised his eyebrows, tempted to be annoying and say something like 'language,' and decided against it. Brendon clearly didn't care as much about not being annoying. Gross? Really? And, is that a challenge? Ryan squinted at him incomprehensively, wondering whether that was really a question or if he was being fucked with, and decided that just in case he would answer seriously. "No," he said in a firm tone, then cracked up a little, shaking his head at Brendon's ridiculousness. I wouldn’t say I have a power over you. When I can turn you on in Church, that’s when I’ll be sure. Ryan shushed him while he laughed to himself, clearly carefree. "All right, stop before I start having nightmares about it, thanks." But he was laughing, too, Brendon's amusement infectious as usual.

Even despite him being especially obnoxious today, Ryan held him close, shutting his eyes briefly and basking in the familiar scent, touch, everything. Actually, I had you in mind. Oh. Ryan wondered how he moved so seamlessly between being a little shit and being charming as all hell like this. He smiled against his hair, couldn't help it, embracing him slightly more tightly at the sudden swell in his chest. "Cute," he murmured, appreciative of the far cry from 'I'll give you a boner in church' version of his boyfriend from moments ago. He felt Brendon's eyes on him while his own were trained to the screen and couldn't help the tiny curl of his lips, trying desperately not to react so obviously. He couldn't have picked something sooner. Remote abandoned, he finally met Brendon's gaze, thinking that for just about the grossest person Ryan knew, he was also shockingly the sweetest.

So much so, in fact, that it threw Ryan off his game every time. He was leaning in and up a little, so obviously waiting for a kiss that Ryan was reserving for after he complained about their brief distance. Kiss me like you missed me? Fonder than ever, Ryan did, relaxing against him once Brendon's arms were strewn over his shoulders. While he spoke, the smile that rose to his face when Brendon's kisses trailed off to the side translated into his voice, soft and appreciative and almost-laughing. That sounds like a great idea. We can ‘watch movies’ every night. Ryan tried so hard not to think about or comment on the fact that maybe soon they'd be moving together and doing that anyway, and it'd be a place of their own, it'd look how they want and everything. He only succeeded on the latter, nodding distractedly in agreement.

When Brendon's hands moved so did his own, running absently down his back like a half-assed attempt at being a masseur. How aren’t you, like, dying? Ryan had no idea what he was talking about for a good three seconds, too focused on the kisses, his eyes slipping shut and mind turning off, at peace. It's warm as hell in here. Ryan didn't feel it. The less sleep you got, the lower your body temperature dropped, and Ryan was definitely a vampire of sorts. He leaned back obligingly, breaking a kiss with no warning, and unzipped his jacket, shrugging it off easily. This was probably an elaborate plan for Brendon to steal it, but whatever. Let him have it. "Good point," he said, leaning in again and wrapping himself even closer around Brendon. "You're warm, anyway." His mind drifted again, and he couldn't stop himself; it probably didn't matter. "Hey, think about it - instead of me moving in here, one day we'll have a place of our own. Watching movies every night, me stealing your warmth every day. How about that?" He was speaking between kisses as they tended to, punctuating with a longer, more intimate one, before pulling back slightly to level with Brendon's gaze.

catch me like a cold

This whole situation with Brendon, the Dilemma that deserved a capital D, was entirely too confusing for Ryan to grasp. He had no idea how it started, and he'd even arguably been the initiator. He was drunk enough for half of it to be a distant, inaccessible memory, and the other half he could recall almost completely except for the fact that it was, how you say, mortifying. All right, the latter half of the night wasn't - actually, Ryan was pretty sure they were on equal terms there, nothing to attack without getting a comeback right quick - but he knew he'd said some things he couldn't take back. He'd talked about Keltie truthfully for once, whereas before he'd always lied about the state of their relationship, and then he was basically complimenting Brendon (as close as it could get to that for them anyway), not to mention all of the kind-of-confessions. Luckily for him, Brendon was surprisingly patient about it all. He'd only snapped at Ryan, like, twice.

He remembered the kissing, too. The angry blur of them at first, no clue where one ended and the other began, and then Ryan had slowed down, easing it slightly even when Brendon was still fighting to keep the flames ignited. On the surface he felt kind of sick thinking about how he'd acted, because that wasn't what they were, they weren't soft or gentle and it was agreed upon silently, and he'd disrupted the balance for a good few minutes before they did end up sleeping together. Anyway it was all just more factors to the big Dilemma Ryan still hadn't worked out how to resolve (and was just making matters worse by continuing the affair). Every time he thought about the period between the beginning of that night and the end, the least hazy section where he'd slowed down and admitted all of those things to Brendon - and received somewhat positive responses, surprisingly - he felt a dangerous warmth in his chest, something he probably felt for Keltie or anyone from his list of ex-lovers when they were at their 'best,' but not really. This was different, somewhat more profound despite how far from accurate that word could be to describe his and Brendon's relationship.

Ryan tried not to think about how clear the solution of breaking up with his, somewhat longterm but definitely incompatible, girlfriend became after everything with Brendon had started. He tried not to think about how he felt about their new dynamic, pretended that every time they caught the other thinking about the same thing at the exact same moment and made faces at each other didn't make his stomach twist. It was probably just the newness about sharing this, uh, mutually beneficial agreement with someone, that got to him. But it was Brendon. Every time he caught himself grinning knowingly at him, or making some pass at him under his breath, he remembered that they were supposed to hate one another. That's how it'd all started, and that's how it would always be, because they didn't get along and they never would. The more he dwelled on it, though, when he got too involved and couldn't stop himself, the more he thought that they kind of worked now; something had clicked and he no longer scowled at the sound of Brendon's name or got worked up at his suggestions, etc. He wasn't exactly pleased at those things, either, but there'd been an improvement of sorts.

He comforted himself with the knowledge that just tolerating Brendon maybe thirty percent of the time was nothing to be worried about. Arguments, though fewer and comparatively farther between, still happened with as much viciousness as before when the situation called for it. If he thought Brendon's ideas were stupid or he'd messed up at all, he would still comment on it, all bite and no softness even despite the fact that sometimes his brain mixed that up and made him feel remorse about it. And, sometimes, if he was having a particularly shitty day, he still took it out on Brendon; whether it was as they normally would through verbal confrontation and frustrated glares or through one of their 'sessions,' it didn't particularly matter. This was all just enough to keep him from driving himself insane with paranoia, worried that the one relationship he was sure he knew all about, the one he was confident in his feelings even if they were hateful and negative, had taken a complete 180. For now, when they still had their bad days, he was comfortable enough.

Regardless, Ryan found himself to be surprisingly possessive - that didn't even happen before, when he was actually dating. People of course sent interested looks in Brendon's direction, sometimes had the confidence to actually flirt with him outright, or they even made it seem like they had some kind of attraction and Ryan was pissed. He refused to use the word 'jealous,' and they weren't even exclusive, but the thought of Brendon moving on or even staying with this dynamic plus another person on the side, it was all awful. He left as many marks as he could, like a reminder for Brendon or some claim to him for other people, even though he knew Brendon used makeup to hide the bruising kisses and was discreet as often as possible. It was a little dangerous, really, when someone even made it clear they were thinking of approaching Brendon, and Ryan sent them the most abrasive look of all time. In any case, he successfully hid at least half of that from Brendon, or he thought so.

Ryan noticed Brendon's gradually more distant behavior and, at first, was vaguely suspicious but refused to openly care about it, then began to actually get annoyed by every rejection. It's not like they were... promised, to one another, whatever, just. Ryan didn't know what was going on, really, but he was too proud to show any sign of upset about any of it, instead opting to start getting the hell away from the bus, from the band in general, more often than he usually would. This tended to mean stealing Wi-Fi from cafés and that was about it, but still. It was away. Anyway - he didn't usually leave for entire nights unless he was being a particularly big baby about the matter, so he had to return eventually, slumping past the rest of the band on his way to go sulk in his bunk or curl up in the lounge facing away from everyone while he tried to eke out some kind of writing or tabs.

This time he was back by about eight, vaguely suprised about the lights being on from what he could see through the tinted windows; he knew Jon and Spencer were out together, on one of their city exploring ventures they tended to go on whenever tour provided them with particularly interesting places (and he usually joined them, except when he was denied that right by an annoyed drummer and bassist who were sick of his wallowing). The driver was definitely gone; no one was up front. And... he didn't actually know whether Brendon went out. Shit. This could mean they'd end up either fighting or fucking, and, well. Ryan had no idea what terms they were on lately. Maybe neither would happen, something new. Either way, he stepped up onto the bus, hands twisted in his coat pockets apprehensively - and then he turned towards the lounge, all tentative energy instantly gone and replaced by instant, angry alarm bells going off in his head. He wasn't sure how he'd have felt seeing Brendon in this position, on some other guy's lap, wrapped around him and kissing, when they were only enemies-with-no-benefits, but right now he was definitely beyond pissed, and still would outright deny the term 'jealous.'

In any case he froze up, at a loss for what to do with all the sudden vicious feeling he'd adopted, and just stared. Oh, hey, buddy. Ryan tabled that for a second. He could address the overtly annoying use of 'buddy' and all of Brendon's casualness in a moment. For the time being, despite all his reason and sense (and therefore any chance he could think of something other than 'Brendon is with someone else) thrown out the window, he realized that the guy, once Brendon had half-shifted off, bore a vague resemblance to him. Clearly Brendon had a type - or he'd introduced Brendon's type to him. Ryan was almost smug about it, except he couldn't maintain a thought other than, like, 'fuck this' or something akin to that, for longer than a few seconds. It was probably lucky for the guy that Brendon cut him off before the sound of his voice, whatever, sent Ryan spiralling. Can we help you? Though a second ago he'd been completely speechless and caught off-guard, Ryan's response was immediate. "Yeah, you fucking can," he returned, all confrontation with not even a warning stage.

Ryan moved closer but not totally - he had the impulse to pull Brendon off and away, or something, but that was kind of fucking crazy and he didn't care what the guy thought about that, necessarily, but Brendon would definitely call him on how stupidly possessive he was. Instead he kept his hands safely in his pockets, probably digging holes through the fabric. Better than hurting someone, probably. "Who is this?" Ryan decided he wasn't gonna yell at some stranger, so. He directed all questions to Brendon instead. "It's generally agreed upon that we being our cheap fucks to hotels. It's just more considerate that way, yeah?" Actually, screw it, he was definitely gonna yell at some guy. He directed his glare to Brendon's new friend, stepping closer again, confrontational. "Feel free to get the hell out. Brendon, we need to talk."