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In your way 24 min ago Forum: 1x1 Roleplay
You're the douche who wouldn't talk to me. We're even. Okay, okay, so Brendon would accept that what he had done was stupid and wrong, but what he couldn’t wrap his head around was that Ryan had approached him, no waited for him outside the tour bus, and now that Brendon had apologised just like Ryan asked him to and he meant it, suddenly Ryan had the libido of a dessertspoon. On the surface, anyway. Brendon wasn’t an idiot and he knew when he was getting under Ryan’s skin- he’d known him long enough to have figured out what made him tick. And now, not just in a cruel way. Anyway, at this point Brendon had abandoned the useless concept of ego- some things he just valued more. Ryan’s approval, for example. It may have seemed like he only cared about the physical side (after all, he had been willing to dodge him for weeks just to increase his own sexual gratification next time, the epitome of selfish), but he never wanted to upset Ryan, he wanted to be forgiven and wanted things to be okay with them, because. He’d missed him. Not just... Particular parts of him. He wasn’t a fuckboy (though many, likely including Ryan, would vehemently disagree).

”I said I’m sorry, okay? What more do you want from me-“ He cut himself off at the end to prevent his voice trailing off into a childish, grumbling tone, and fell silent instantaneously, allowing himself to be dragged along towards the entrance of the hotel. Ryan was pushing the door open with his back and Brendon faced him defiantly, perfecting the role of child having a tantrum and refusing to cooperate. Or, at least, cooperating, but with the least amount of enthusiasm possible. I’ll read it to you sometime. Brendon raised his eyebrows and tried his utmost to look as disgusted as possible. It wasn’t hard. ”That’s okay, I’d rather get cholera and die.” Once they were in the lobby, Brendon pulled away to make his point- but followed Ryan anyway when he had the freedom to go off to his own room. Again, fuck dignity. This was more important. Brendon knew exactly who and what his priorities were. He stayed dutifully and suspiciously quiet and refrained until the elevator doors closed behind them, and then Brendon sprang into action, part-Whatever of trying to convince Ryan that not dicking him down was not the way to go.

As expected, Ryan was surprised, but Brendon stayed persistent, batting his eyelashes at him like he was some kind of cartoon, pressing him firmly against the bars along the walls of the elevator and tilting his head, imploring him to maybe give him a chance, it’ll be worth it. C’mon, Ryan, how long are you really gonna keep this up? There was a long (or a seemingly long) period of silence, of nothing, inaction, but then Ryan’s hands were around him (where they should be) and Brendon felt a gentle flutter of his heart combined with a beat of triumph. He had Ryan wrapped around one finger and he knew it, he just- had to figure out how to coax him fully into forgiveness. This seemed to be working. Brendon was leaning in to meet him in a soft kiss but Ryan had already pulled away and the elevator doors were already open. Fuck. Opportunity missed. Brendon grimaced and watched Ryan, waiting for his next move, letting his hands drop down to his sides, dejected. You didn’t convince me. The unsure waver of his voice told Brendon that that wasn’t entirely true, but he refrained from smirking, just smiled at him barely, sweetly. ”Mh-Hm.”

He then followed, his shoulders relaxed, now, his body held lax and a little more sure of himself. His eyes remained fixed on Ryan the entire time- as they walked through the hallway down to their room, as Ryan fumbled with the keycard, as he messed up his curly hair, as he walked into the room, and even as he shut the door- he remained facing Ryan and kicked the door shut, biting his lip. Ryan was trying to fix his hair in vain and Brendon was watching him affectionately, like he hung the stars in the sky. Even if, y’know. He was being annoying right now. They were more alike than people gave them credit for. I’m trying to be mad at you here. Brendon raised his eyebrows, standing with his arms folded across from his ex bandmate. ”Why, love? Seems counterproductive to me.” He cleared his throat, and tilted his head as Ryan brought his fingers up to form a cross in front of him, amused. So stay five feet away at all times. Demon. As Ryan collapsed, seemingly in defeat, into the armchair, Brendon reassessed his methods. Being a little shit clearly hadn’t worked, but- then again, ‘little shit’ was a broad term. Being sweet wouldn’t work, Ryan would just want to cuddle or some shit. Brendon narrowed his eyes and then moved forwards towards him.

He dropped gracefully to his knees in front of Ryan, not smiling at all. Every moment fluid, he brought his arms up and resting both of his elbows on either one of Ryan’s knees, then rested his chin in his hands, blinking up at him as a curl of hair fell out of place and over his eyes. He sucked on his teeth and made eye contact for a second before his eyeline dropped and so did one of his arms, crossing over to the opposite leg and trailing his fingers up along Ryan’s thigh. One hand still propped up his head. ”Ryan,” He began, ”Baby. I’m a clever boy, sometimes. So- I understand your point, okay? You’re in charge, I was wrong, I deserve a slap on the wrist. So- please. Let me make it up you.” His eyes followed the path of his hand and he stopped at Ryan’s upper thigh before he unfolded his legs and shifted gracefully into poor Ryan’s lap. ”I’m sorry, really.”
Brendon’s heart had always been set on music. He was raised in a strictly religious family, which proved more than interesting later on, and though neither of his parents were musicians, they bought him a piano for his birthday once when he was younger, all cliché, and he instantly fell in love. A few years later when he learned he had a decent singing voice- he knew it was his calling, to perform. He’d always been full of energy and hyperactive and often caused trouble and that transferred in his late teens to the small shows he booked at bars, until the prohibition, when he continued to book them only carefully under the noses of his Mormon family. Brendon had known from a young age that he wasn’t attracted to girls like it seemed he was supposed to; instead, he found himself drawn to boys his age in a way that wasn’t ‘natural’, was the only way he could put it in his younger, confused years. As he grew, though, he made peace with it, quickly, and decided that all he wanted to be was genuinely and openly himself, so. When he was discovered and signed to a label and started making traction in the music world- he made sure everyone knew that he was gay. It wasn’t his ‘thing’, but- Brendon was defiant, proud, because he felt he deserved to be. That’d earned him some shiners throughout his life.

It seemed, though, that no matter how obvious he was about it, down to his way of dressing, which screamed fruit, some fans just didn’t catch on. He still earned himself swathes of adoring female fans who granted him bouquets and fawned over him desperately. It was flattering, and he tended to play along for their sake, but really. Poor girls, so naive and ignorant to his obvious flaming nature. Baffling, really- he’d glance down at his outfit just to doublecheck that he’d made sure to look extra fruity this morning. Huh. He supposed the truth just went right over the heads of people who didn’t want to hear it. Luckily, for people of a similar orientation, Brendon’s sexuality was blatant and that was clear from how quickly Ryan picked up on it, only having barely made eye contact before shifting over and buying him a drink. Now, they were in the bathroom, searching eachother’s faces, hands curled around hips, or jaws, or into hair- things tended to just go like this with people like them. Not like they had rich pickings, or anything.

Not to say that Brendon was just ‘settling’. Ryan was gorgeous, intoxicating- Brendon could only blink, enamoured, when he drew a thumb over the scar running through his eyebrow. Interesting story for that scar, Brendon remembered- and bookmarked it as potential pillowtalk. I wouldn't call it inexperienced when you've set a gold standard already. A diamond in the rough. Brendon had to bite his lip to stop himself smiling like a fool, trying to convince himself that it was just flattery, Ryan was just saying words because they had physical chemistry and they were just talking to cut through that electric tension. But- no. Brendon liked him, liked, as he’d said before, the way that he operated. Ryan was fascinating. ”Stop it, darlin’, you’ll make me blush.” I feel as if we’ve known each other longer, to tell you the truth. A soft smile finally fought its way to the surface; he knew how Ryan felt. ”Y’just sayin’ that,” Brendon grinned, but he wasn’t grinning for long, smile dropping when he evilly pressed himself forward, a classic move of his. Hey, if it’s not broken, don’t fix it.

Moments after, they had leaned into another brief kiss, Brendon nipping at his bottom lip with a hint of playfulness, at ease despite the obvious sexual tension between them- the air was full of a strange mix of content and anticipation, and it was confusing but intoxicatingly good to navigate. I’m not goin’ down, sweetheart, but I appreciate that concept. Sweetheart. Brendon dropped his chin but before he could look down at his feet Ryan had caught the side of his face and kissed his opposing cheek in a gesture that was far too gentle for what was, on the surface, a bathroom hookup- which had, admittedly, mostly just been flustered kisses and flattery. Brendon wasn’t usually this slow, but he felt as if they had all the time in the world, no need to rush. Strange. Partners in crime, we are. ”You’re rather confident, Mr Rowe. Complacency is for fools.” He arched an eyebrow, clearly in jest,though he couldn’t quite keep it together long enough to not hint towards future encounters before this one had really even started.

I assumed as much. Charming. Brendon glances at both hands Ryan had curled around the sink at either of his sides and mentally shrugged- he couldn’t really argue with the obviousness of that. And I look forward to it. Fuck, likewise. We aren’t exactly in the most romantic place right now. ”Oh, are you a romantic, Ryan? Listen to this,” He began, tracing the curve of his bottom lip with his finger, ”Think candles and roses and silk sheets. Is that romantic enough for you?” Brendon was going to continue but Ryan had lifted him onto the counter and he felt as if all of the breath had been knocked out of him. When Ryan stepped between his legs he automatically wrapped his legs around Ryan’s waist and pulled him close, tilting his chin up to gaze up at him, lips parted. But we can make it work.” ”Uh-huh,” Brendon said intelligently, rendered unintelligible by Ryan’s deft fingers working the top buttons of his shirt and moving downwards. Ryan was exploring and Brendon was eager to encourage him but then they were kissing, and his eyes fluttered shut as he leaned voluntarily closer, chasing when he pulled away. Have I told you already how stunning you are? I feel like I haven't.

He smirked. ”Don’t just tell me I’m stunning,” He exhaled, pulling him in closer with the vicegrip of his legs. ”Make me feel it.”
If Brendon was ever asked, say, what his favourite physical part of Ryan was- he wouldn’t know how to answer. He had reached the point where he was so in love that when he looked at him everything just kind of blurred together into just you’reperfect, you’restunningoutstandingbeautiful, and he couldn’t rank anything if he tried, though- he had favourites, sure. His hair- when it grew just a little too long the natural curls became infinitely more noticeable and Brendon thought it was the most precious thing he’d ever seen. His eyes, well, Brendon had enough to say about them that he could fill a book with compliments and descriptors that were worthy, he was tall and handsome with a defined jawline and a gentle smile and his hands- Brendon was gazing at them now, at how the many rings adorning his slender fingers glinted slightly in the dim light, and he was so fucking enamoured, even if he hadn’t been expecting a marriage proposal he sure was goddamn glad it had happened. Almost unable to bear it, he pressed his lips softly against the back of his hand, tender. I’m thinking a date, initials, lyrics... Something like that.

Humming absently against his skin, Brendon pulled back and looked at him from under his long eyelashes, picturing such a ring in his head as Ryan slid on the placeholder carefully. ”Lyrics?” He mused, leaning in before he finished his sentence to meet his fiancé in a loving kiss, ”From an existing song, or are y’gonna write a new one just for me?” Just for me, just for you, just for us. I’d do anything for you, we’re a unit, we belong together, I’ve never been so sure of anything in my life, Brendon thought, dipping his head to admire the plain silver band as if it was his real engagement ring. He couldn’t wait for people to ask him about the ring and he’d immediately just launch into an appreciative tangent about his fiancé and nobody could complain because they’d asked in the first place. It was perfect. They had already been in as serious a relationship as they could have been, this just kind of- in addition to the romance of it all, it validated their relationship. Maybe people would stop thinking of Brendon as Ryan’s favourite boytoy. Though he didn’t particularly mind that role, particularly on nights like these. Though he’d probably made that clear enough already.

And I’m yours. In case that wasn’t obvious. It was obvious, and that was the beautiful thing about the two of them- there was no doubt. Brendon couldn’t ask for a boyfriend- fiancé- more devoted than Ryan was. What he wanted to say had already been said, though, so he responded in a way that was more classic of Brendon- pressing his hips down playfully, with no intention other than just winding Ryan up, because he was so cute when he was all flustered. They were kidding again and Brendon then rested his head against Ryan’s bare shoulder, inhaling and trying to regulate his breathing a little more before he drew away. Sorry about that. No he wasn’t. ”No you aren’t,” He laughed, raising his eyebrows adamantly. Brendon already knew how tomorrow would go: they’d wake up, probably stray between murmuring wholesome sweet nothings and fooling around for a few lazy, comfortable hours, then Brendon would get up and try and walk like he hadn’t been railed the night before and Ryan would fall over laughing at him. They’d fallen into the same comfortable routine every time.

He wasn’t mad, though. In fact, he was so enthusiastic about this whole thing that he was willing to risk his neck just to tell Spencer about what had happened. Spencer, who would most likely stare at him in disbelief and then immediately go and hunt down Ryan, hoping Brendon was just joking and Ryan hadn’t really impulsively proposed. Evidently Ryan didn’t really want that to happen. Brendon was too high from the joy of all of this to figure out why. Oh my god. If you tell Spencer, I will kill you, then myself. Sure, he was aware, but. It would be worth it just to see the look on Ryan’s best friend’s face. I mean... if he doesn't do it first. He'll basically be your in-law. Oh no. Brendon’s face crumpled and he sighed as he rolled off to the side, collapsing ungracefully into the sheets. ”He doesn’t even like me. Maybe he’s still convinced I’m just your whore. Which- I am.” The last part of that sentence was uttered like a guilty confession, but Brendon was grinning, his face hidden in his pillow. He felt his muscles relax completely and his body loosen up as he finally started to wind down, serene and happy and satisfied as Ryan trailed his knuckles gingerly down his back. It was pure and soft but then- I could do better.

That would be a level of good Brendon couldn’t even comprehend, so he just lifted his head, cocked an eyebrow and flashed Ryan a smile sickly sweet with anticipation and expectation. Bring it on, he always said. He was about to turn over and drag Ryan into his arms so they could fall asleep but then his fiancé had moved back over to his own side, so Brendon sat up, sheets falling and bunching around his waist as he tipped his head back, stretching out his muscles. Guess I’ll save it ‘til the honeymoon, though. Brendon looked over and shook his head adamantly. ”Why wait? I mean, we need to consummate our engagement, at some point. Give me a few hours and I’ll give you a nice wake up call, baby.” That being said, he was no longer that tired, too buzzed from the elated feeling of - being in love, he supposed. He gazed at Ryan adoringly.
In your way 11 days ago Forum: 1x1 Roleplay
So, though he was arguably in the wrong, Brendon had a few advantages here. First of all, he knew just how attracted Ryan was to him- he’d known that even before that fated night in Seattle, when Ryan had kissed him with a passionate fervour, spitting insults at him between kisses but coming back for more after each offence nonetheless. Now, when their mutual magnetism was undeniable, it was much easier to just slouch deliberately back, push his hips forward, loll his head to one side and look at Ryan from under his eyelashes, not even trying to seem like he was innocent. He could meet Ryan’s eyes and trap his bottom lip between his teeth and the flash of uncertainty and the twitch of his fingers told him everything that he needed to know. Brendon had the upper hand- in his mind, give it another half an hour, and he’d get his ‘reward’ of sorts after the difficult weeks of turning Ryan down. Which was funny, because prior to that, Brendon had been the insatiable one- not just sexually, but he seemed to have a constant thirst for attention and eventually, affection, secretly enjoying just being held in Ryan’s arms just as much as he enjoyed. Being held against a wall or down onto a bed. Yeah, though they were becoming closer and more open, it would take a while for him to be able to admit that.

And that gentleness was the furthest thing from Brendon’s mind right then. He hadn’t even touched Ryan in so long and he was driving him crazy- he was so hot, Brendon want to attach his mouth to the junction of his neck and shoulder and move down, all the way to his hipbones, drive him a little crazy. His head was clouded with less than innocuous scenarios and he was both dumbfounded and frustrated that Ryan was wasting time by pretending that he wasn’t up for it. Though- the look on Ryan’s face. Maybe he was serious. Though Brendon had proposed how they spend the rest of their day already, Ryan seemed dead set on watching some dumbass film on Netflix, and though at first Brendon thought he was just joking, of course he was, why would he pass up this after so long, he’d seemed so desperate waiting outside Brendon’s tour bus like a loyal puppy, it appeared after a few moments that Ryan wasn’t kidding. He wanted an apology, and though Brendon wasn’t dumb enough to think that if he apologised all would be forgiven and they’d be comfortably locking the door behind them in one of their hotel rooms pretty soon, it was, he decided, worth the humiliation of apologising. So he swallowed his pride- and, while he was trying to think of what to say, he actually thought about what he had done. How he was currently treating and regarding Ryan. Like he was desperate, just a convenience to Brendon, when- that wasn’t true.

Brendon liked him, he really did. More than he cared to admit, or rather, more than he was able to admit. Once he had thought about this he settled a little, shifted on his feet nervously as Ryan held him close by his belt loops. He daren’t look him in the eye, especially after such a promise- if he was lucky and sincere enough, Ryan had mentioned something along the lines of fucking him senseless, so. What did he have to lose? Brendon cleared his throat one last time before stuttering out an apology, that, though a little bashful, was geniune. He didn’t want to do anything like that again. He had realised it was childish and entitled and the solution wasn’t even that far-fetched; they just had to talk to eachother, like they were doing now. Brendon’s voice was sullen (as his ego still suffered some bruising) but earnest, and once he’d finished, he looked up at Ryan hopefully, eyes lingering on his parted lips. There was a moment where Brendon held his breath, eyelashes fluttering as Ryan drew his long fingers through his hair, not quite letting himself off the hook enough to smile.

And he was right to do so. You really thought. Confused, Brendon refocused his vision and found himself staring at his smile, that grin that told him everything he needed to know. He’d just been played and outed for just how much he was willing to sacrifice (e.g. his pride) to get dicked down. And it wasn’t even going to pay off. Brendon drew back, offended. ”What?” He demanded, incredulous, tugging his hand backwards in a vain attempt to try and escape his grasp when Ryan wrapped his fingers around his wrist. ”But- I wanna suck yourdick,” He complained, trailing along behind him like an infant having a temper tantrum. This was so unfair. You’re adorable. ”You’re a lying bastard.” But I’m in charge. Suppose he couldn’t argue much there. As bratty as Brendon tended to be sometimes, Ryan was in charge in more ways than one. Unfortunately. How about Fight Club? Doesnt do the book justice, if you ask me. Brendon glared at the back of his head as he was pulled along. ”I haven’t fucking read the book, anyway, shithead,” He muttered, though stopped trying to resist as he was pulled through the hotel doors and into the lobby.

Brendon pulled his wrist free finally and stood with his arms folded like some kind of tiny, angry puppy, too small and precious to be taken seriously. Still- when Ryan beckoned him to the elevator, Brendon followed. Of course he did. He was holding onto hope that he’d be able to seduce Ryan and this whole shitshow would be worth it, finally. They could watch fight club afterwards, or something. No rush. Stepping in front of Ryan, Brendon pressed the call button on the elevator and waited in silence until the doors opened. He stepped onto it and turned around immediately, waiting for Ryan to step inside and the doors to close until he lunged forwards and tangled his fingers in Ryan’s hair, crashing into him to kiss him so hard that if he hadn’t have, like, tilted his head, he would’ve broken his nose. Kissing him lecherously for a good long few moments, Brendon pulled back only to speak, standing propped up on the tips of his toes. ”Please,” He murmured. ”I’ll be good for you.”
Brendon was dreaming of the sky.

He was dreaming of clouds so thick that the sky was obscured, bathed in ochre and rose gold by the sun that hid behind them, soaking them with a sleepy, golden glow. Across the scene there was a haze, some kind of grainy filter, perchance simply the lens through which his subconscious viewed the dream, because Brendon had been to this place, he had lived there for as long as time. The empyrean domain should not be this unknown and surreal to him, and it struck him only how long he’d been away from his home when he viewed the Heavens in a different way- how, he imagined, mortal souls would see it when they ascended. It was beautiful. Breathtaking. Surreal.


It was, in essence, and uneventful dream, but even his unconscious mind he realised that this dream was designed and crafted by his Father as a message, a reminder, almost a warning- Don’t forget where you belong.

Brendon woke up slowly, the soft touch of wakefulness curling around his limbs and stirring his eyelids to a flutter, his eyes remaining lidded. His long eyelashes skimmed his cheek and he let out a soft exhale. He knew he’d been on earth much longer than was normal for an angel tasked with helping out their struggling charge. He knew he’d grown far too used to living like this, sleeping in human beds and living in human houses and eating their food, listening to their music, learning their ways. He probably knew more than his Father thought was safe. He knew that when he inevitably had to go back, he wouldn’t be allowed back down for a long time.

It was just- the mortal world was so refreshingly desperate and vital, everything was alive with electricity, an uncontrollable urge not just to stay alive, but to live. Not just to drift- and that had been the only existence Brendon had ever known. All other instances he’d been down to earth and left in a maximum of maybe a week, and the times between visits were so long that he forgot what it was like each time. At this point, though, he’d been with Ryan for- over seven months. Brendon’s eyes fluttered fully open and he exhaled audibly again, the air rushing past his lips and stirring a stray strand of hair that was curled out over his forehead.

For a long time he’d convinced himself that- he was here because that was his duty, Ryan wasn’t ready to be left alone yet, which- was partially true. But mostly Brendon had found a kindred spirit in Ryan- he had been merely existing, and Brendon knew if he hadn’t entered when he did, his charge wouldn’t even have done that on the mortal plane for much longer.

But he wasn’t just a duty to be fulfilled anymore.

Brendon turned onto his side and there was Ryan, lying on his side with his cheek pressed into his pillow, facing Brendon. In the dim light Brendon could tell that his eyes were closed and his curly hair was tousled and unruly. The sheets were pulled up just a little past his waist and onwards from there, Brendon’s eyes traced a path along his body, drinking in the way the moonlight streaming in through the open window illuminated his skin. He was something holy, something divine, Brendon still wasn’t used to this feeling, he felt suddenly overwhelmed and simultaneously at great peace- There was guilt lying below the surface but Brendon had started to learn the art of burying away feelings until he absolutely had to deal with them.

Brendon, overcome with an intense wave of great affection, close to involuntarily reached out, tangled his fingers gently in the curls of Ryan’s hair and moved down to barely trace his cheekbone, down to follow the curve of his bottom lip. With this great sudden surge of emotion came the start of an increasingly common episode of faint buzzing that seemed to echo from his heart and reverberate through his skin into the mattress, like a feline expression of contentment; He was purring, for lack of a better word, and with his he knew what came next.

Dragging his eyes away from Ryan’s peaceful expression, Brendon shifted, propping himself up on one elbow and reaching behind his back with his free arm to clumsily search for where his wings sprouted from his shoulders. He didn’t have to search long- his hands closed almost immediately around a clump of feathers.

Rolling his eyes up, he became aware his wings were present and was now irritated by their presence as they half-drooped from the side of the bed, so he sat up and folded the one closest to Ryan against his back, let the other hang loose, the tips of his longest feathers skimming the floor.

Brendon was still trembling in the way he did when faced with strong emotion- like how he felt when he looked at Ryan. He didn’t want to disturb him, but it was difficult when the bed had started to shiver slightly, and his ridiculously large wings were brushing against Ryan’s bare skin even when the culprit wing was folded as tightly as possible against his back. Inhaling, Brendon stretched his arms out and clung onto the highest bar of the bedframe, tipping his head back and resting it against a lower bar, willing himself to calm down so he could let his lover sleep.

Lovers, Lovers, Lovers. The voice in Brendon’s head was singsong and louder than the malicious whisperings of his darker thoughts, telling him this was wrong, on so many levels, he didn’t even know what love was, he was emotionally and physically incapable of experiencing it. None of this was real, in his desperation he’d fallen from grace and fabricated some ‘romance’ that was impossible to even have. But-

-Brendon let his head loll to the side against his bicep and gazed at Ryan, his eyelashes skimming his cheeks again. That swell of his chest. How could he make that up? Lifting his head again, the angel stared out of the open window, closed his eyes after a moment and allowed the cool breeze to wash over his skin, listened to the reassuring murmurs of the wind and the soft, consistent stutter of the rain.

Ryan was awash with pale moonlight and Brendon gazed again, entranced, at his sleeping face. Despite his initial hesitation, he then made a decision and opened his wings, reaching out to lift Ryan’s head up gently and then slide a wing under him to support his shoulders, and cushioning his lover’s head. Once he had Ryan cradled, secure, he turned onto his side and nestled his head close to Ryan’s on his own wing, folding his other one over them both and enclosing the two of them, one hand occupied with caressing the side of Ryan’s face and the other holding securely onto his waist. It wasn’t intended as patronising, but- he felt as if all the world and all the heavens were against them. God knew what was happening and Brendon imagined the dream was orchestrated in order to try and coax him back up to where he ‘belonged’. Well. Brendon let his eyes flutter shut. He belonged right here.
In your way 21 days ago Forum: 1x1 Roleplay
Honestly, Ryan should have learnt by now that any physical ‘punishment’ he was capable of carrying out and willing to carry out in response to Brendon being a little shit/annoying bastard/fucking asshole/et cetera was- not really a punishment. Brendon, though not exactly a stereotype, was- submissive. Dismally so. To say the least. The things that always used to get to him when they were less fine tuned at not killing eachother were the verbal insults- things very rarely ever escalated beyond that, anyway, but Ryan knew just how to push his buttons and push him over the edge that way. Now, when they were on much better terms, and had a much more physical and intimate side to their relationship? Ryan’s ‘punishments’ for Brendon’s (admittedly childish) behaviour were never exactly- effective. Well. That depending on what exactly Ryan wanted to achieve. If he wanted to turn Brendon on past the point of calming down, then he was golden- if he wanted to actually teach him a lesson about something, not so much. But Brendon wasn’t about to apologise. He’d like to invite Ryan to step into his shoes and get shoved against the side of a bus by a man, like, five inches taller than him, and see what his reaction was- remorse or an erection.

Anyway- it wasn’t a punishment, per say, but Brendon was clearly affected, stood at an angle with his back pressed still against the metal, his body sloping intentionally just so. Another person might’ve been embarrassed by how one kiss had him looking and acting like he’d just run a marathon, but Brendon had no dignity left. He was smirking blatantly, eyebrows slightly raised, eyes dark, watching Ryan intently as he shoved his hands into his pockets and rolled his eyes. Honestly, what did the man expect? Clearly nothing is a good punishment for you. Brendon laughed, raised his eyebrows and tilted his head back as if he was genuinely thinking about it. ”Actually,” He began, levelling a clearly irate Ryan with his gaze, ”That was a real fuckin’ good punishment for me. Please punish me more often.” He was the devil, in person. Brendon was grinning, still breathing hard, obviously very confident in the belief that things were going and would continue to go his way this evening. From where he was standing, his genius plan had worked and the primary goal on his brain now was to get to either of their hotel rooms as fast as was possible without being suspicious or blatantly obvious to the others.

Of course, that was with the presumption that Ryan actually wanted to do that. From what he’d seen from the poor man over the last few weeks, he was feeling kind of antsy. Brendon couldn’t imagine him turning down the opportunity, because he was coming from a similar place- a fundamental flaw in his scheme was that by depriving Ryan, he was also depriving himself. Interestingly, he’d had some internal conflict over that- they weren’t official or together or exclusive, so Brendon could find someone else and have a clear conscience afterwards, but- he didn’t want to. Ryan was the only one on his mind. He’d written Hurricane about Ryan, for fuck’s sake. He was just as obsessed as Ryan was- it just wasn’t as obvious and it showed up in different ways. Anyway, Ryan was blushing, Brendon was smirking, but then his ex bandmate threw him for a loop. Are you serious? You thought being an asshole to me would work to accomplish that. Perhaps. Just to drive his offer home, Brendon then casually allowed Ryan a looksee into his current fantasy and it was obvious it was somehow effective because Ryan’s jaw all but dropped.

And he was flushed- how cute. Brendon had folded his arms loosely across his chest and was stood there, proud and self-satisfied. He was just waiting for Ryan to accept his invitation. For starters, you won’t be, so. A spell of confusion passed over his features but then he nodded as if in sly understanding, like they were on the same page. They weren’t. ”That’s okay, baby, I’ll do whatever you ask me to. I’m just, uh. In the mood- for that.” He wasn’t kidding. Brendon was about to pipe up and be annoying yet again when Ryan once again invaded his space (he was more than welcome to do so), hooking his fingers into Brendon’s belt loops and pulling him close, away from the side of the bus. If you apologised, told me you wouldn’t do anything like that again, maybe I’d forgive you. Hm. Maybe Ryan really was delusional- apologising was a thing they only did for eachother on outstanding occasions, like Seattle or after Ryan kicked off about Ian or when they were being soft and vulnerable in the early hours of the morning.

Naturally, Brendon was about to strike up a deal that benefited him perhaps a little more, but Ryan wasn’t done and Brendon shut up, staring with fascination at his mouth. I’d fuck you senseless if you did that for me. Oh. Oh, he was serious. It was Brendon’s turn to flush as he rapidly weighed this dilemma- if he apologised, he’d get dick, but his pride would suffer a hard blow. If he didn’t, he wouldn’t get any dick, but his dignity would remain intact. Fragile, but intact. Sullen, he glanced at his feet and cleared his throat. ”I, uh- fuck. Okay. Ryan, I.” Brendon bit down on the inside of his cheek, hard. ”I’m sorry. I won’t- I won’t do anything like that again. Promise.”
Not even thirty.

Ryan is a year older than me and neither of us have yet turned thirty- that’s why it seems so exceptionally cruel that when he holds me in his arms it feels like he’s trying to protect me from something he just can’t. We can’t be just lovers anymore; we can’t kiss without my thoughts inevitably slipping away to ‘what if this is the last time I kiss him’, and I know he can’t wrap his arms around me without noticing how fucking thin I am. I’m not just his husband, I’m his sick husband. Dying husband. He’s going to be a fucking widow before he’s even thirty and it kills me to think about so I cut my thoughts off forcefully before they get a chance to spiral; I try and distract myself by listening to his breathing, steady by my ear. When I pull back slightly I’m smiling despite myself because here is the man I have loved all of my life, by my side even now, when things look so hopeless. Though I didn’t expect any less from him. Ryan would never leave, even if I asked him to. Overwhelmed, I resist slightly when he cradles my jaw and tilts my head up to meet his eyes- again, I am constantly aware of how sick I look, it’s written on my face, plain as day. It used to be something I was able to manage- appearance wise, anyway- now, I can’t fool anyone. So I’ve stopped trying. My hair is overgrown and I barely do more than run my hands through it, somedays not even that. Reflectively I run my hand through it as I hesitantly meet my husband’s eyes.

I try to stop worrying so much, for him.

Charming way to put it. I can’t help the reluctant smile that creeps onto my face, reluctant even though I was the one who cracked the joke. I wonder if he can tell how desperately I try to pretend things are normal- when he’s beside me in my hospital bed I ignore the sounds of heart monitors and whatever other crap is wired up to me (I’ve stopped fucking caring what they connect to me from one day to the next, Ryan knows more than I do at this point and we’ve had a few minor fallings out over just that) and I shut my eyes and I pretend we’re back at home, in our bedroom, in our bed. I fancy that we had spent the whole evening watching TV, maybe, curled up together on the sofa, and then I’d pretended to be asleep and he’d picked me up so gently and carried me up to bed, laid me down so tenderly and climbed in beside me. Sometimes I wake up from such fantasies and open my eyes expecting to be met with sunlight streaming in through the blinds and illuminating Ryan’s skin, the crispness of our own sheets, drowned in the hoodie I sleep in because it smells just like him. I’m wearing that now, funnily enough- I have stolen countless items of clothing from Ryan over the years but this is my favourite and when Ryan isn’t around, and I let myself break down in private, I cry into it, chest heaving desperately until I calm down and tire myself out and I am too dehydrated to cry any more.

”What can I say,” I laugh, but barely. Charming, that’s what I’m supposed to be. I crack these jokes because if I stop, who am I anymore? I might as well be dead if I lose the part of myself that is immortal. I don’t want to be a shell. ...You took a lot more than just that, though? He nudges me and I elbow him right back, but I can’t really muster enough strength for it to be more than a gentle nudge. ”Damn right I did.” My voice is laced with amusement, but distant. Not really my own. ”I thought that was a sensitive spot, baby, I’m surprised you brought it up of your own accord.” I’m smiling, and he takes my hand, and it’s so warm and the callouses are so familiar, our fingers lace together like they have hundreds of times. Clockwork. We’re stood in the water and I try not to shiver and suddenly he turns to me and I can tell the stupid bastard is about to start blaming himself for something that is not his fault. Used to this guilt from Ryan by now I turn to him, smile fading, and will him to stop, I can’t bear that he blames himself. I know he can’t bear to hear me blame myself either. But I’ve accepted that I’m the only one that can- or could- help myself.

But I’m breaking down, of course I am, these days I’m constantly on the brink. We’re flustered and stupid and chaotic and in love and as I lean forwards Ryan catches me easily in his arms and I kiss him, leaning against him. When I pull back he’s looking right me and my chest swells with sorrow and affection and then I remember what I look like and stubbornly drop my chin to my chest, swallowing. As I do this, Ryan bodily moves us so I am facing the horizon. It’s not really that impressive considering the most beautiful creature I’ve ever seen is holding me secure in his arms right now. The sunset could only dream of matching that. Even so- he presses kisses against my skin and I sigh, appreciative. You’re going to be okay. Why would I believe him when he just sounds like he’s trying to convince himself? Holding my tongue, I rest my chin in the crook of his shoulder and my eyelids start to droop. Fatigue has set in already and I’ve barely even walked anywhere. I’m weak, I’m worthless, it’s like he’s my fucking carer, not my husband. I hate it. I hate it so much. I’ve been on the edge for a while but before I can start shaking and before any tears start to fall I’m stopped when he starts to speak again.

I Know it. Trust me. ”I trust you.” My response is immediate, unfaltering. There’s nobody I trust more. I’ll be right there next to you, the whole time. ”I know.” My voice wavers and I clear my throat to try and disguise it but I know he will have noticed. Ryan is so observant- he only doesn’t notice things when he intentionally and actively tries not to. ”I don’t know what I’d fucking do without you.” Well, I did- but if I said so, Ryan would kill me before I’d even get a chance to die from my disease. The macabre nature of this business brings a mirthless smile to my lips and I stare still at the horizon while Ryan moves around me, wraps his arms around my waist. Here is the one place I feel safe. Home is a person and that person, for me, is Ryan. Automatically I relax back into his arms, confident that he can hold me. It’s beautiful. My head dips in a lazy nod and after a few beats I reach one of my arms up to curl into the back of his hair, turning my head fully to the side and guildimg him awkwardly but sweetly into a short kiss. ”You’re beautiful. Baby, I- I love you more than anything. I wanted- to be with you forever. Find our first grey hairs, and now-” I shut my eyes tight and clench my jaw. Breathe, Brendon, breathe.
In your way 26 days ago Forum: 1x1 Roleplay
The first time they even met eachother, Brendon had crashed headfirst into a much taller Ryan whom he was to replace as frontman, and Ryan had snapped at him without even hesitating- ‘Who the hell is this guy, what is he fucking doing?’ When Brendon very hesitantly told him who he was, and Ryan realised that this guy was going to take his place, Brendon never even had a chance to apologise and greet eachother properly because Ryan had cast a betrayed and disbelieving look towards Spencer before turning on his heels and stalking away like some proud, wronged peacock. With terrible posture. Brendon didn’t dislike him immediately- he was just immensely confused. As far as he had been aware, the whole band had supported the idea of him becoming the new frontman. He was told of Ryan, but not warned about him. He often thought that if maybe he’d asked to actually meet the guy before he knocked him down off his high horse and bruised his apparently very fragile ego, maybe none of this would have happened. Brendon would still be working at a smoothie shack, or something. He used to fantasise about not being constantly trapped on a hot tour bus with somebody who hated his guts, but now- they’d move on a lot. A hell of a lot. He didn’t regret anything. Well- nothing he would admit.

So, they’d changed, but not enough, Brendon supposed. They’d never really been friends- when they weren’t fucking they hated eachother, when they weren’t doing either they were nothing. It wasn’t like they were just friends now, no, things were never that simple with them, but they were certainly learning to become more amicable towards one another. Brendon found he enjoyed Ryan’s company, felt warmth inside of him when Ryan smiled, felt a little leap in his chest whenever Ryan, say, just- said his name in a certain way. The thing was, they’d never learned to properly communicate, like adults. They’d always just been juvenile and antagonistic or they’d fuck to release the tension (marginally) less aggressively. So, though they no longer wanted to knock eachother out, they still hadn’t figured out how to talk about how they were feeling unless they were drunk, it was after 3am or they were crammed together in a bunk surrounded by nothing but the other. Even something they tended to be good at- physical intimacy- was a difficult topic, because Brendon would be asking for something, and apparently he wasn’t capable of doing that. He had to be difficult about it.

What they had a lot of practice in, though, was arguing- so when things escalated and became more heated, Brendon was off before the starting gun, defending himself before Ryan had even finished his sentence. The experience shone through there- Ryan didn’t exactly shrink, but he lost confidence in his point and fell silent, the sullenness plain on his face, etched into the lines of his face. Brendon was used to feeling something sick and twisted akin to triumph when he saw Ryan unhappy, it had been like he’d gotten a kick out of it, hardwired to feel so victorious. That malicious part of him had apparently been lost, thank god- all Brendon felt was remorse for being, perhaps unnecessarily forceful about something they were both sensitive about. He wasn’t sure. It wasn’t new, per say- they’d been growing closer, after all. Luckily or unluckily, depending on where each of them stood, Ryan didn’t hold back for long, losing his temper soon after and shoving him against the side of the bus against the cold metal. His oversized shirt had ridden up at the back and a stripe of skin on his lower back was pressed against it- he shivered, but didn’t dare to say anything.

Apparently, he had no dignity left, even if he did look fleetingly over Ryan’s shoulder to make sure they didn’t have some kind of gawking audience, Jon standing there speechless or Spencer ready to pull as many strings as he had to in order to call of the tour, or fans, somehow, who knew what hotel they’d be at it, what if- Well, he met Ryan’s eyes again, and all worry of that was no longer at the forefront of his mind. Brendon could barely look him in the eye when he exhaled his mortifying admission- small steps, he supposed. And Ryan was just- smirking. Daring to make eye contact, Brendon blinked uncertainly, eyes drifting down, down, down, to his mouth, to his chest, down to his waist and beyond, they were barely inches apart. After too long a quiet Brendon opened his mouth impatiently but Ryan didn’t give him chance to speak, moving his hands to find their natural place and then leaning in to kiss him. Brendon was still blinking when their lips met and it took him a second to kick into gear and sigh responsively against his mouth. This was so stupid, they were in a parking lot, they- Yeah. I do. Asshole. Brendon was grinning breathlessly, chest heaving. But then Ryan backed off just as Brendon felt like getting started.

Don’t ever fuck with me like that again. Still recovering, Brendon pressed himself entirely flat against the side of the bus and lifted his shirt at the front to wipe over his face before he dropped his folded his arms low over his chest and stood against the metal at such an angle so his hips jutted out before him. ”What’ll you do? Whatever that just was...” He tilted his head to the side. “I liked that.” When he started to move over, back to Ryan, eyes dark, the last thing he expected was for Ryan to turn around and- What movie do you wanna watch? Huh? Laughing that followed started off geniune but trailed off into awkward uncertainty when he realised- Wait, was he serious? ”Are you serious? I just told you I wanted you to fuck me,” He repeated, disbelieving- and slightly offended. ”Like- Well, what can we watch while I’m sitting on your dick?” He still wasn’t fully sure whether Ryan was pulling his leg. Hm.
In old fashioned 30 days ago Forum: 1x1 Roleplay
Just as Brendon was a mysterious character to Ryan despite being considerably famous and well-known, Ryan was a complete mystery to Brendon. All that he knew about the man was that he was a bootlegger and he spoke with a slight new york accent that was so vague he couldn’t pinpoint where he was born any more specifically than that. Not only was he handsome, but he seemed to be at ease with his role, dealing with Dallon with practiced ease (though it was Dallon, he wouldn’t cause much trouble with anyone) that told Brendon he had probably started his trade all the way back to the beginning when prohibition first began. An opportunist, Brendon deduced him to be- and this was even more obvious when they found themselves on just their second meeting stealing away to a bathroom because they were that inclined towards one another they couldn’t stand maybe going somewhere a little more inconspicuous. Another thing about Ryan was that he definitely knew what he wanted- before Brendon could even finish his sentence, Ryan had locked the door and was already closing the distance between them so Brendon had to move back and lean against the sink. He was surprised, but- Brendon always welcomed a little forwardness.

The problem was he hadn’t anticipated this, being so affected by somebody, so he really did have to cling on to the edge of the sink to keep himself upright. Really, how did anyone not understand a man liking another man when some men looked like this? Brendon had never understood it. Convenient. I believe you’ve singlehandedly defined my type. Brendon laughed, but it was a distracted laugh as he swayed a little, immensely flattered. He wasn’t sure why. Plenty had previously tried to woo him via sickly-sweet flattery. Though he never denied the opportunity to have his ego stroked that way, sometimes it just got tiring, when the same thing kept being said- mostly about physical assets. Ryan, though, was next level. It was so cliché, but- brendon felt himself flushing. Just at that. He tried to brush it off by speaking quickly, reacting casually to the compliment so nothing seemed too heavy too fast. ”Not sure whether to be concerned,” He responded in a low voice letting his eyes settle at the curve of Ryan’s lips as he smirked. ”Are you that inexperienced that one man can set the standard for all others? We barely know eachother.” Yet he was smiling. Softly, geniunely.

There was something about Mr. Rowe. He had barely started picking at the seams of Brendon’s composure and he was already unravelling, falling apart- it would be embarassing but Brendon had alright cast his dignity aside. They were in a club bathroom, for god’s sake. How high and mighty and proud could he really pretend to be? Brendon it is. God, his name sounded so good coming from his mouth and Brendon tried not to let his mind wander to other instances where he might hear Ryan utter his name perhaps in a different manner. Stop it, Brendon, don’t get ahead of yourself. Or do. I mean, look around you. One could say you’ve already taken it too far. You can call me Ryan. Brendon nodded, eyelids half-mast as Ryan leaned in towards his neck and started paying close attention to the sensitive skin there. He would definitely call him Ryan, he’d do anything he asked of him, even after realising that Ryan was good-naturedly mocking him for his easiness. It was hard to think with dignified coherency when Ryan was killing- or rather ravishing- him, with warm kisses pressed against his neck. So he just nodded quickly and curled his fingers into the back of Ryan’s hair to try and ground himself.

I prefer the term ‘ravish’. Of course he would. ”Of course you would,” Brendon breathed, raising a playful eyebrow, but that faux-cockiness quickly faded and this was evident when he repeated the same thing twice when Ryan had asked him to talk about himself, but really, what did he expect, what was he supposed to do when a handsome near-stranger (well, not quite) had his mouth pressed almost permenantly against his skin. Give him his entire life story? Not likely. Brendon opened his eyes, eyelashes fluttering, as Ryan pulled back, and he lifted his free hand up hesitantly to press his fingers against his neck and feel the warm pressure. Something to remember him by. Good. He then searched Ryan’s eyes, his sweet honey eyes, then his gaze travelled back down to his mouth and he leaned in as Ryan slipped a hand to hold against his lower back, let his eyes shut briefly when Ryan grasped onto his tight-fisted hold on the sink behind him. Is that so? You’ve made me lose all sense, myself. A feverish nod was all he managed to fit in before Ryan invaded his space in a way which was very welcome, catching his lips in a relaxed kiss, passionate and deep but not urgent. Chasing still after Ryan pulled back, Brendon couldn’t help the whine of protest that left him when he leaned forwards and Ryan didn’t meet him immediately in a follow-up kiss.

I can already tell you’re going to be trouble for me. So maybe they’d been in eachother’s company for a collective two hours at most so far, but really, Brendon was surprised he hadn’t figured that out already. ”Look who’s talking.” Without discretion Brendon freed his hand from Ryan’s hold and unclasped it from the edge of the sink before bringing both his hands up to hold onto his hips- he then adjusted his own stance so his hips jutted out against Ryan’s and he reached up to twist his fingers in the front of his shirt, dragging him back down close to his lips. ”Okay, But- You’re real trouble, I’m guilty by association, now, y’see? I’m going down if you are.” Welcoming another briefer kiss, Brendon stretched it out by biting gently, mischievously on Ryan’s bottom lip. You are going to give me the grand tour at your next party, aren’t you? A sharp inhale immediately dashed any dreams Brendon had of appearing aloof and untouchable. ”Of course, darlin’. I’d say I’d take you in every room in my house but I hope you’d understand me saying I’d prefer it the other way around.”
They weren’t in a long distance relationship, per say- they lived in the same house and Brendon was home much more often than someone would be if they truly lived oceans apart, but he was still away for a substantial amount of time and on that first tour Brendon went on without Ryan, the intense anxiety he hadn’t suffered from since the very beginning of their career had taken hold of him for a few weeks to the point where he almost had something like a nervous breakdown and came the closest he’d ever been to cancelling a whole tour just because he needed Ryan that much. He hadn’t realised how much Ryan had helped him just standing their off to his right playing guitar- he’d taken his husband for granted on the road and he wanted to change that, texting Ryan every free second and forcing him to FaceTime so Brendon could tell him that he loved him. At first he was stubborn, refusing to admit to Ryan that he was struggling by himself because he was proud to a fault, but eventually he confessed about his increasingly difficult to manage stage fright and Ryan pretty much instantly booked a ticket to the city he happened to be in at the time and accompanied him for the rest of the tour. When he arrived at the airport Brendon barely had time to speak before Ryan pulled him into a fond embrace, one that said everything that needed to be said without words.

Brendon needed him, and Ryan needed Brendon. It wasn’t ideal being apart like this so much but they’d each grown individually, grown less codependent, perhaps, though they still didn’t like it when they were apart. In that sense, they almost pined, which was ridiculous, because they were married. They were going to spend the rest of their lives together- though, looking at Brendon’s workload, it was now more like forty to fifty percent of their lives that were spent together. It sucked, but they had to try and find some kind of work-life balance. If Ryan was more active it would be even more difficult which was even more of a dilemma because though Brendon wanted Ryan to be around all the time when he was home, he also wanted him to get back into creating because when he didn’t he just turned into some kind of recluse and Brendon had to coax him out of his shell so he was doing something actually productive with his time. Brendon’s downfall, though, was having little patience- so he often gave up and left Ryan alone to his own devices, to try and use up his creative juices writing little love letters on sticky notes (which was adorable, but Brendon would prefer a love song.

As it happened, Ryan’s passion for creating was reignited, but not by Brendon- by Z. So maybe Brendon was a little salty about that, but he adored Z, and there’s nobody else (apart from himself) that he’d approve of to be around Ryan. Z was Ryan’s best friend second only to Brendon, and he encouraged that, he did, but Brendon was fickle in nature, dramatic, petty and dramatic over the littlest things, and sometimes he had to crush a flare-up of jealousy when he saw Ryan and Z just strumming on guitars in the living room while he couldn’t join them, he had to go somewhere for an interview or something when he’d much rather play and write music with his husband like they used to do so often. Now, they barely found time. Brendon missed him and he was right there because they’d kind of lost that medium to bond- their relationship had by no means weakened, it was just being tested, and so far it was standing well- brendon just secretly wanted things back to normal and almost regretted convincing Ryan to leave the band in the first place. He loved his new band members, but- it would never be the same without the love of his life by his side in a new city every night.

There was something so romantic about it and Brendon sometimes considered dragging Ryan on a reunion tour, per say, with the original lineup, but there were a couple of problems with that. First of all, Brendon knew he’d get attached to the nostalgia again and it would be even more difficult to go on tour without Ryan following the reunion, and second of all, that just wasn’t Ryan’s scene anymore. He didn’t want to pressure his husband into situations where he suffered from obvious anxiety- all he wanted was for Ryan to be happy, but the tricky thing was that they were both happiest when they were together. It was just all so difficult to navigate for the two of them, it was still all uncharted territory and they just had to learn as they went along. In the coming years, they both knew things would change- but there was no uncertainty about how they felt about eachother. That would always remain the same and this wa something they’d never doubted. Brendon just had a habit of blowing things out of the water, just as he was doing now, walking out into the living room and allowing his mood to instantly drop when he realised Ryan had been spending time they could’ve spent together with Z, whom he was with all the time when Brendon wasn’t home.

It was enough to set a sleepy, barely awake Brendon off. Most things were. He stared Ryan down as he leaned over the back of the couch, clearly beckoning him closer, and just stayed put, eyes flickering around dangerously, still trying to blink himself awake. Then Z was speaking and he zeroed in on her, attentive. Surprise visit! Fair enough, Z was spontaneous, but- And actually, I was just leaving. Oh, thank god. Brendon could sulk at Ryan in peace. I have to uh... Let you two settle this silent battle. Brendon scoffed as he turned around. She was observant, and she knew them, he’d give her that. He almost heard Ryan’s eyeroll and felt like turning around and snapping at him but instead he stalked off (more like stumbled- remember, half-awake) into the kitchen, cooling off before he said something dumb. If Ryan knew what was good for him, he would leave him alone- but also, if Ryan left him alone, Brendon would wind himself up even more. It wasn’t a fun situation for Ryan, who just wanted his poor husband to get some more sleep.

He heard Ryan stand up almost instantly and then heard Z leave as he moved around the counter island to the coffee machine, messing with it with his poorly coordinated, tired movements, trying to remember how it, like, functioned. I made some, saved it for you, babe. Huh. Suddenly Brendon didn’t want any.”I’m good, actually.” He dropped his hands down by his sides and stepped away from the coffee machine, instead peering at the fruit bowl and deciding whether anything looked appetising. He’d hoped that they’d wake up and have breakfast together, but- I thought you should get some sleep, I know you never do when you’re busy, y’know... He turned and stared Ryan down across the counter island. ”You know what I get even less of? Time with my husband,” He mumbled, picking at the sleeve of his (Ryan’s) sweatshirt and looking down at it like it was the most interesting thing in the world. It smelled like Ryan. He felt like taking it off out of spite, but. ”It’d be nice to prioritise that once in a while.”

But you’re awake now, and. No thanks to you. I missed you. So hey. Now under the impression that Ryan was now just trying to suck up to him, Brendon snuffed, displeased, and lifted his hand to push his hair back out of his eyes, the wide sleeve falling and bunching at his elbow before he dropped his arm back down to his side. As this happened, Ryan reached out to chance a hold on him and Brendon resisted stubbornly, though there was no practical reason why. He was just- being Brendon. Defiant. He stepped away and turned his back on Ryan again, pressing his hips against the counter to lean forward and pick up an apple from the fruit bowl, turning it over in his hands as if it was the most fascinating thing he’d ever seen. ”If you missed me, you would’ve woken me up.”
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