Neve

seated and sweating || b&r

Nobody refused an invite to one of Gabe’s parties- and Brendon was among the people lucky enough to receive one, though then again, Gabe knew everybody, in the music scene and beyond, and tended to always bring together the right group of people to trigger the right situations. They knew the ins and outs of internal band drama, relationships troubles, the scoops on upcoming albums, the reflections and reviews of latest releases and interband conflicts and tension. If somebody wanted gossip, they’d go to Gabe; it wasn’t like they were malicious, and they never exaggerated anything, they just took enormous interest in affairs that weren’t their own. Brendon, as one of Gabe’s actual friends and not simply there because they’d probably cause the right amount of trouble (or not) depending on what Gabe wanted, should have known that he needn’t even tell his friend that he and Ryan had separated. Everybody knew the band had split, sure, and there was public speculation about Brendon and Ryan’s current state of romantic involvement, but Gabe seemed to know instantly- and Brendon wasn’t aware that Gabe had already cooked up a scheme, inviting the two halves of a splintered band and an ended relationship together to the same party. They were something of an evil genius.

Brendon was blissfully unaware that his ex would be at this party, but at this point, he probably would have attended even armed with the knowledge of Ryan’s presence- they’d run into eachother weeks prior, and had been polite and civil as possible, and Brendon was even starting to wonder why he was ever sad about it in the first place if it was so easy for them to move on. He was confident in his independence and his ability to resist his ex, especially since he was still kind of embarrassed about the given reason for their split; it had been Brendon, in love, but also terrified of the commitment that came with it. He’d rather shamefully broken it off without warning, the seriousness of the relationship taking him by surprise even though he felt so strongly about his boyfriend. In fact, the first month was just plain regret, yearning to be in his arms again- the following weeks were easier, but even now, he wasn’t sure if they could ever go back to being the same, even if that’s what he wanted.

There was no point feeling sorry for himself. The party was apparently ‘themed’- Gabe had messaged him last minute, about two days before- and told him the theme was ‘the roaring 20’s’ and if Brendon didn’t go along with it ‘they’d be very disappointed’. That just meant he wouldn’t be allowed in, or he would and Gabe would make him wear something godawful. Luckily, Brendon was rather willing to oblige to the dress code. He had found some old, slightly ridiculous white shirt that was ruffled at the front, a black waistcoat and slacks, and a possibly-satin bowtie, loose around his neck. He’d slicked his hair back, something he wasn’t used to, and even dug around and found a gold-painted eye mask (that he only wore because it gave him serious ‘cabaret/burlesque/but it’s better if you do vibes), but when he checked himself fully in the mirror, he found that he liked what he saw. Brendon had changed considerably in the past few months- not only had he worked out more (the benefits showed in a much more toned stomach and chest under his intentionally tight shirt), but he generally seemed more put together, less ‘awkwardly pretty’ and more ‘effortlessly mercurial and charming’.

Anyway, it wasn’t long when he got there that he loosened his bowtie fully, cracking his neck to the side and making a beeline towards Gabe’s huge kitchen to make himself a drink with whatever he could find. Gabe’s house was huge, and Brendon decided to familiarise himself with it early in case he passed out somewhere and had to navigate his way to the front door when Gabe inevitably called him an Uber. When he reached the kitchen, though, Gabe all but collided with him- almost dropping the Daiquiri they were holding carefully. They just laughed and offered Brendon the cocktail, which he took, and then hung by their side, leaning against their shoulder. Oh, did I mention? Brendon turned his head lazily to at least look like he was listening. Ryan is here. Or at least, he’s invited. Who knows if he’ll actually turn up.

Brendon, at first, didn’t react, then just rolled his eyes. At this point, he was on his third drink and was pleasantly tipsy, just enough to completely lose whatever filter he weakly claimed he had previously. He just kind of elbowed Gabe, went to get himself another drink, and then wandered back out into the expansive living/dining room, one of several, all conjoined together. And, lo and behold- there stood his ex boyfriend, over by the wall, clutching onto a glass of what was probably rum and coke. The first thing Brendon noticed was that he was so tall. Ryan had definitely grown. His hair, too, had gotten longer, and was actually in place, and Brendon could picture his eye colour from where he was standing.

So, Brendon had instantly given up on any progress he was making getting over his ex and was now fully back to square one- in fact, even worse, because how dare Ryan look so attractive, how dare he be taller, how dare he be so easy and effortless to kiss, how dare he taste sweet, Brendon could remember... Well, he’d managed to resist going over for about thirty seconds before his feet did all the thinking and he was suddenly close enough that if he stepped in further and leaned towards him, even up now, because the height difference was even more obvious up close, they could quite easily be kissing right now. Brendon was proud of himself for resisting. But not for long. ”Hi. You look hot.” He said immediately, grinning charmingly so he could play it off as an acceptable thing to say to his ex. ”I’m mad. You got taller.” Smiling, buzzed enough not to care, he reached up to take hold of his inside of each of the sides of Ryan’s suit jacket, and then slid them down the side before dropping his hands to his sides. ”What brings you here, anyway?”

a therapeutic chain of events || b&r

Brendon would’ve called Ryan his lifeline, but honestly, no matter how much he wished that love really could save him, Ryan was more what was keeping him from falling apart. In a desolate situation where he already knew what was at the end of the brief, agonising road, without somebody to hold onto, without reason, Brendon’s spirit would have broken by now- and even if it was beginning to be worn away, by pain and illness and weakness, humiliation at how he’d been reduced to this, anger at himself for not being strong enough- Ryan was, undoubtedly, what had kept him sane. Ryan, he told himself, was the reason he didn’t want Death to arrive at his door a little faster and save him from living out the last miserable, agonising weeks of his life for the simple sake of it- because Ryan was his reason. Every moment spent with him was a blessing and Brendon was, as a man in his kind of predicament, counting them carefully.

It wasn’t like he was optimistic. He could go on about how much Ryan helped him all he wanted, his lover’s presence was a blessing and a curse simultaneously- as much as he wanted to believe that love conquered all, Brendon had come to realise this wasn’t true. In fact, love made all of this harder- and much more difficult to let go. It made the inevitability of his death a vague and horrifying concept, as he was too busy curled up in Ryan’s arms to allow himself to think about it all just ceasing to exist. The world, though, would go on without him. Ryan would go on without him- and though a part of him was endlessly happy about it, a selfish part of him felt immeasurable agony at the realisation that he was not the beginning and end of his husband’s world. It wasn’t like Brendon wanted to watch Ryan fall apart, but sometimes, anger at hospital staff and quiet frustration only made Brendon feel more sick.

That said, Brendon was stupid- he knew that Ryan was dumb enough to think something along the lines of maybe I don’t have to live without him or maybe be with him again sooner than he thinks. This made his throat tighten, and though he made no accusations, he just kind of glared with as much seriousness as his tired face could muster, hoping Ryan just... Got the message. Ryan was to keep going- Brendon had told him before, indirectly rejecting whatever ideas Ryan had going on in his head. Brendon had said that life would go on, and in a choked voice, had even proposed the possibility that Ryan was still young, he’d find somebody else. He was all for Ryan moving on and living life, but still, behind his encouragement, the idea of the one man he’d ever loved, his childhood best friend and the centre of brendon’s world ever being with anyone else made his insides twist. It would be best, he decided, to just not think about it at all.

Anyway. A month. Brendon had been in hospital for a few months already, and it had felt like a lifetime- but maybe now he was counting off the days to go, it would go faster, and Brendon wished he just hadn’t been told. Four weeks- give or take- left by Ryan’s side, left on this godforsaken earth. Under his obvious pain was relief- Brendon was constantly in pain, and was, despite everything, glad that this wouldn’t drag out for too long. It was harrowing- it the prospect of telling Ryan frightened him more. Propping himself up on the cushions a little further, wincing noticeably, he followed Ryan’s movements into the room, noticing the hand at his bedside, almost offered to him, and ignored it for the moment as he nervously, with a kind of quiet hysteria, delivered the news.

Bullshit. Brendon just blinked slowly, unsure. This was nothing new- Ryan getting angry at the doctors. It wasn’t their fault, but Brendon could never find the energy to interfere. No, that can’t be right. Who told you... you really don’t need to be hearing that, you know? It’s bullshit. A month. Brendon sort of shifted uncomfortably, shrugging his shoulders. The slightest movement took way too much effort, and he geared himself to speak. "It’s not their fault, baby,” He managed, but couldn’t meet Ryan’s gaze. ”And maybe I didn’t, but now I know. You- nobody can change that. Better start a calendar, start counting the days.” His last sentence was as light a tone as he could manage for a heavy subject like this. Brendon just wanted to feel vaguely normal for once, but it was hard when his husband was on the verge of breakdown.

A month. Ryan’s strained voice broke his heart. Just kill me now, He begged silently to nothing in particular. The longer I last, the harder it’ll be. why did he feel more grief for Ryan than himself? Brendon would have been amused, but. Well. Fuck. Fuck. Ryan had gone white, and Brendon wondered absently what he looked like. Can’t have been very pretty- though every time he asked, Ryan boosted his ego x10, it was still pretty hard to feel too hot when he was confined to a hospital bed, his hair was a mess and his skin was jaundiced and sickly. No doubt he was gaunt, had lost muscle mass, and his eyes had yellowed too. Brendon silently cursed the disease for even taking away his good looks- that told you where his priorities were. ”Ryan-" Brendon, they’re usually wrong. That doesn’t mean. Doesn’t mean what? Brendon knew he was going to die; it terrified him, and he wanted to just cling onto Ryan and life for as long as possible, but he had somewhat come to terms with it. Ryan, apparently, had not.

What do you think? Letting silence fill the room, Brendon felt uncomfortable. How was he supposed to know? To distract himself from such a question, he held out his hand, curling his fingers and intertwining them weakly with his husband’s, suddenly realising all he wanted to do from now til whenever his time was up was just be near the love of his life, to be held, to have him make it easier. If Brendon was going to die, it would be in Ryan’s arms. "...Get in with me, would you?” Artfully ignoring the question, he willed the stress to go away. He was sick to death of limits being placed on his life, but it wasn’t like he had a choice.

a therapeutic chain of events || b&r

Brendon thought lot about where his bad habits had surfaced from- the bad habit of a few too many far too often that developed startlingly fast into a full-blown addiction that he couldn’t shake, that marred his once-golden reputation amongst his friends (he knew some of them said things behind closed doors they wouldn’t say to his face, which was strange, because the best time to say something hard to swallow to anyone was when they were a dead man anyway), that had, by the age of not even thirty, ruined and brought close the end of his life. When it got down to it, he remembered the almost foolish heartbreak he suffered upon leaving Ilvermorny, and the way to distract himself from Ryan’s absence and his parent’s inattention was whatever he got his hands on first- and that, to somebody who looked older than they were, was alcohol from people who just didn’t ask questions to keep their conscience clear.

It had began relatively mildly, where he didn’t get drunk every night, but he drank every night without fail unless he ran out. Soon, though, anxiety set in when he couldn’t drink, and it was disrupting his schoolwork. Next he even drank all throughout the day when he could- then he stooped the level of stealing from his alcoholic maths teacher, at the stage where he began to get shaky without it and now schoolwork was interfering with his drinking. Brendon still wasn’t sure why he became hooked so quickly, and it was sort of morbidly amusing that in the beginning, he’d hated most alcohol anyway. His affinity for it came with frequent consumption. He wondered why his parents never noticed when he went home during the holidays, that his modest group have friends ignored that anything was happening, that the only professor who took notice was the alcoholic that simply recognised the symptoms (and also that some of his stash was missing). He’d be lying if he said he wasn’t bitter.

Joey. When Brendon first knew that he probably wouldn’t last much longer, and he wasn’t going to grow old with his husband like he’d planned, he’d thought about Joey, and how the hell he was going to be able to face him. If it was up to him, he’d refuse, but he was confined to bed and didn’t have the option to avoid him. The visit was heartbreaking for both of them- Joey felt guilt that he hadn’t been able to save Brendon, who was much younger, and Brendon felt like he’d disappointed a father. Which he had. Brendon was going to miss him- he hoped in the back of his mind that Joey would visit again so he could cry into his shoulder while Ryan wasn’t around to see him so weak. Then again, Ryan was a saint for even sticking around this long, he thought absently- it wasn’t like he was getting any prettier, and it had been weeks since Brendon had last even looked in a mirror. It was better this way- he could imagine himself as normal, even if he felt like death.

Brendon knew he was probably a little selfish in that he never wanted Ryan to go anywhere- mostly because he was terrified he wouldn’t be alive when Ryan got back to his bedside. He pretended to be asleep when arguments broke out between Ryan and the hospital staff about whether he had to leave or not, and always exhaled a shaky sigh of relief when they left and he and Ryan were left in relative peace. In the beginning, Brendon had been actively hoping for recovery, but now it was all too much too fast and he had pretty much resigned to his fate. He just wanted to be with his lover for as long as possible, but his heart sank when he realised no amount of time together now would make up for all the years they would lose. Brendon couldn’t think about it too long. The concept of being dead was relatively easy for him to grasp- it was the impossibility of Ryan’s absence, or rather Brendon’s own solitude, that shook him to the core. His life wasn’t meant to play out like this. He guessed he just had to make the most of it while he still had one.

It was one of those days where Ryan finally went home, even if only briefly. Before he had gone, Brendon had held onto him with as much strength as his weak body could muster, and gave him a hasty, watered-down version of his rehearsed ‘I’m moments away from death and I’m terrified I won’t get to tell you how much I love you’ speech. Ryan was still kind of in denial, so he just nervously laughed it off after tentatively retiring the gesture. Then he was gone, and Brendon resigned back to his bed, staring at the ceiling.

But during the time of Ryan’s short three hour absence, too much happened for him to process, and when his husband got back, he barely even noticed because he was stiffened, his eyes closed and his throat tight. It was hard enough processing himself, but telling Ryan- he wished he had taken the offer of the nursing staff telling Ryan instead, but it was too late for that. Hey, baby. Brendon felt his heart beat a little harder, like the sound of Ryan’s voice had revitalised it for mere moments. Brought you got chocolate this time. Thought another caramel macchiato might be overdoing it, y’know? Ryan’s light attitude made Brendon feel a little worse about dropping this on him, but he soldiered through, sitting up straighter and finally opening his eyes, reaching up slowly to run a hand through his hair, pushing it to one side. “Thanks,” He murmured, but didn’t touch it, just glanced at it and registered it’s location so he didn’t knock it over in confusion some time later.

How are you doing? Brendon winced, looking at Ryan mournfully, his mind taking forever to form words. "Not so hot,” He admitted, cracking a weak smile. It wasn’t like they expected anything else, but... Actually being told that he had a month, at best, wasn’t the greatest feeling in the world. ”I, uh- I’ve been given an expiry date.” Brendon couldn’t help but laugh, because if he didn’t laugh, he’d have broken down in Ryan’s arms by now. Not his proudest moments. "A month, maybe.”

anytime soon || b&r

I know. Brendon stopped. Of course, this had been exactly what he had wanted to hear- that Ryan knew how Brendon felt about him, that he loved him no matter what (even though his respect for his husband had kind of plunged in the short space of time it took for him to use their relationship as a vantage point)- but he didn’t feel any less angry, didn’t mean he wasn’t still hurt by even the accusations he knew deep down were baseless and futile. Even so, it kind of wounded his surety, and suddenly for the first time he was insecure about how affectionate and loving a husband he actually was. It hadn’t happened before, they’d always been on the same page, but now he was suspicious. Was this really just a heated in-the-moment low blow, that, however hurtful, had no meaning or malice behind it, or was it Ryan being honest, finally finding the courage to say what he really meant? Brendon knew, really, it was the latter, but even the notion had him a little caught off guard.

Brendon was about to say something, to try and mend the tatters of what he wanted to be a short conversation and then an agreement, but Ryan was smiling and for the second time his anger surfaced as an expression of affronted indignation crosses his features, any wish to end the argument swept away by his astonishment at how Ryan was practically smirking. ”Is this a fucking- joke to you?” He all but spat, overcome by his bitterness but also wanting to get the hell away from his husband, drawing back in a gesture akin to a disgusted recoil. I love you, you know. His eyes rolled skyward and then he narrowed them, wondering how on earth that was appropriate in this situation. Maybe before, but not now. The last thing he wanted to do was sing praise and affection. But he did know. Brendon didn’t need to be reassured that Ryan loved him, he needed Ryan to be assured that Brendon felt the same. The whole situation was a mess.

At least he wasn’t smiling anymore. Brendon was tired, but now he was being accused of glorifying his quote-unquote ‘personal tragedy’- and there was so much he wanted to get off his chest, and Ryan had never been a great listener when it came to this topic in particular, but- he didn’t care. If he didn’t say anything now, he’d just- ironically- bottle it up. So he let it all go on him, all usual apprehension for Ryan’s reaction gone, no longer caring about how he felt expected to walk on eggshells around a ‘sensitive’ subject that was mutually agreed taboo between them. Ryan would just have to deal with it. So he cut in on his husbands stuttering and said exactly how he felt, not holding back for somebody else’s sake. The whole time, he didn’t look at him, just scowled when Ryan dropped down beside him and only looked distastefully at him when he realised that Ryan couldn’t even look at him either. After he was done, there was a pause, and it was cold, and the feeling of repulsion he felt wasn’t one he had experienced before. He hoped to god it was temporary, but all he wanted to do then was get the hell out of there.

And you can’t talk about it, ‘cause. At least Ryan was somewhat self-aware. Brendon nodded curtly. ”You’re not the easiest person to talk to about this shit. And I get it, but- who else do I have? All our friends drink, and Joey- he’s got his own problems, and-” He stopped, shaking his head. I'm sorry, baby. I get it - just. He didn’t react, only wondered whether Ryan did actually get it or was just telling him what he thought he wanted to hear. Touring is fine. Being on the tour ensemble is fine, I mean, you're right, it's basically all I'm doing now, so. It's just that... you writing that stuff by yourself... I don't want you to feel like you have to be alone, you know? At least... No. Brendon wasn’t sure what he wanted any more. He rested his head in his hands for a moment, before straightening slightly with a sigh. ”I do have to be, though, don’t I? Some of the stuff I have to say, you won’t want to hear. It’ll be too familiar, or not familiar enough, and it’s not your fault, but I can’t talk about this with you all the time, as much as I want to, or as much as you want me to.”

I know it's not your main reason to want to make the music yourself. I - I hope you know that you don't have to push people away from the personal stuff, is all. I'm always here for you. Brendon almost sneered, but instead just dragged his hands down his face and stood up, walking towards the door and folding his arms protectively across his chest. ”Whatever. You have a funny way of showing it.”

anytime soon || b&r

Even if what Ryan had said, he didn’t mean, it was still awful and kind of shocking to Brendon that he would even go there- what he perceived to be the love that neither of them ever doubted, the steadfastness of his adoration and respect and vice versa. No matter how heated and tense the arguments had become, no matter how hard things got, they always knew that they’d work it out somehow because what they felt was so strong and what they experienced was so real and intense that neither of them ever dared to question it, simply because they saw no reason to. Brendon was in love with him, head over heels, had been for about half of his life, and the notion that Ryan would even question that was jarring. And infuriating. It was this that made him the most angry, thinking it not only ridiculous, but a step way too far over the line. Maybe Brendon had passed it already with the comment about pathetic songwriting, but Ryan merely implying that he doubted Brendon’s love was too much for him to just let go. Brendon wasn’t known for holding grudges, but he was honestly angry for the first time in quite a while.

Not only angry, but hurt, because he honestly didn’t know at first if this was anger speaking or actual honesty brought forth by the intensity of the situation. His common sense told him the former, but the even slight possibility it was the latter crushed him. He wondered how Ryan could ever doubt that, when he’d done so much to show and tell him otherwise- Brendon liked to think he was affectionate enough, even if it was sometimes more physically orientated. It had always been Ryan who was better with words, which was kind of ironic now, because not only was Brendon suggesting, no, coercing Ryan into leaving the band’s creative force completely, but he had said that his lyrics were ‘pathetic’. He wanted to take this back as soon as it left his mouth, but now he didn’t, too stirred up by Ryan’s comment, so he just let them remain in the air, hoping in his moments of genuine hurt that Ryan took them to heart.

Alright, low blow. Brendon rolled his eyes skyward, unable to even look at him, trying to keep himself calm, but his knuckles were white and he was probably disproportionally angry for the situation. He then inhaled, reprimanded Ryan, still with a tone of genuine disbelief that his husband had, again, even said that. Okay. A pause. Brendon’s eyes widened, and then he reached up and dragged his hands over his eyes and down his face, shaking his head slowly. ”Just, okay? That’s where you’re meant to apologise. How fucking dare you-" He swallowed thickly. ”You don’t actually think I don’t love you, right? Because it’s not fucking funny.” Another long pause, and Brendon let his arms drop to his sides, exhaling.

You can’t say the songs about you getting fucked up are happy for a reason and expect me to forget it, either. Brendon went quiet. He had no comeback for that, and suddenly felt unwanted guilt grip him at the shoulders and freeze him into immobility. He didn’t expect Ryan to forget it, nor did he expect him to understand- if he tried to explain how he missed it, why he missed it, and how much, Ryan would never understand. There was no point. Is that part of it? Part of why you want to split up, I mean. So you can write that, without... Hesitant, tense, he said nothing for a second, then opened his mouth to speak too late. Ryan was continuing. ...Without us caring, I guess. he laughed nervously. ”It really isn’t that big a deal,” He murmured, artfully changing the subject. ”You never write anything anymore, so there’s nothing for me to reject.”

Whether I'm in the creation process with you or not, I'm gonna care, you know. When the lyrics about clubbing and drinking still sound wistful... I mean... nothing's going to change. For a long time, Brendon didn’t respond, just considered Ryan’s words in his head. He knew that his husband would always worry, nothing he could say would ever change that. So he just decided to be honest, and held his breath for a second before just shrugging his shoulders almost defeatedly. ”I miss it,” He admitted. He let Ryan process it. ”That’s what people don’t understand. Sure, what came with it was awful, but the drinking? The actual- parties? Nights out, whatever? It was fucking fun, okay? What I can remember, was- crazy. And I do miss it. I struggle with that shit every day, so I write about it because it’s what most of my life has been dominated by.”

oh such torturous things ;; b&r

The night when they had first met, Brendon certainly hadn’t been around with the intention of joining Ryan’s band- in fact, in the situation, where he was hot and bothered and his brain was working overdrive and the ridiculous crush he harboured for him was ruling his head, for fleeting moments he had wanted to kiss him right outside that tour bus. This notion fronted his goals at first, but moments into actually talking to him, he lost his nerve, but not his slight reverence for Ryan, still intent on befriending him. The crush never went away, in fact just kind of camoflagued itself as extremely close subtextual friendship and developed into something even more. Now, eight months later, he was glad he hadn’t let himself be ruled by anything other than his brain. This was much better. In hindsight, he wondered if that would have made him no better than the fans he now so disliked- the ones who just wanted the attention of someone even mildly successful, the publicity and just the story to tell. That certainly had never been his motive, but whenever he put himself back in his own shoes from eight months ago, he cringed at his own behaviour. He really didn’t try and keep things subtle.

His patience had, in the end, paid off, because now he was receiving flattery to preen his already impressive self-assuredness, Ryan all too happy to provide him with regular inflations of his ego. It wasn’t like Brendon was self absorbed, or anything, he was just- healthily aware of his own assets. He wasn’t afraid to steal the spotlight, or admit that he liked the attention. He thrived on it. Then, just when he thought this couldn’t get any better, Brendon had acted on impulse and kissed him- and the risk paid off, because Ryan kissed him back. Everything, suddenly, became vague and unimportant, like the chill, the rain, the fact that Spencer and Jon were neither dumb nor blind nor nonexistent, and pretty much the entire world around him. All of it suddenly centred on his dumb, stupidly pretty bandmate. Brendon didn’t care to remember how many times he’d imagined this, and intended to make the most of it, even rather suddenly professing the love he had only just identified. Go big or go home, he supposed.

This was definitely his lucky day. Ryan was in love with him too. He suddenly wondered if it were possible to get any closer to him, because he wanted to. Brendon held him at his waist and the collar of his shirt, fully intending to impress, nothing to prove but everything to show off. The tiny gasp he caused Ryan made him suppress a smirk against the corner of his mouth, before moving off down his jawline. Alright, so maybe you do know. Brendon laughed gently. “No kidding, when I first met you, that was all that was on my mind. Amongst other things.” No use hiding that now. His shoulders relaxed and he shivered as Ryan’s fingers carded through his hair, and he let his eyes fall closed, feeling the droplets of waited against the back of his neck and his arms. Brendon only opened them when Ryan hooked his glasses back into his shirt, and he lifted his head just in time for Ryan to catch him in a kiss again.

They were both equally kind of breathless, and Brendon was slightly embarrassed at how easy this was making him seem. To be fair, it was an honest portrayal, really, but he had to maintain some kind of self control. Or did he? I know the rain is getting a little serious, but. Who cared? Brendon certainly didn’t, and from the sound of that ‘but’, Ryan didn’t either. Opting to ignore it, he kissed him again, praying silently that Ryan didn’t mind the rain. Distantly, a lyric formed in his head. I kind of don’t want to move. Ever. Brendon grinned, tilting his head sideways and this time barely brushing his lips, hanging onto his collar and keeping him close. Hook, line, sinker- Brendon had him, and he loved it.

”On the contrary,” He said into his neck, the hand at his hip squeezing just a little. “There are better places to do this.” Of course, he didn’t want to move right now. This was perfect. This was something he was never going to forget. Brendon moved both of his hands to Ryan’s shoulders, and then draped his arms around his neck, tilting his head back to kiss him yet again. “I love you.”

meet the press || b&r

Though he had been forewarned about the press and the media prior to even joining the band, Brendon hadn’t been prepared for this- three straight days of just interviews, talking to boring ass people asking questions that were 80% boring and obvious, 10% irrelevant or ridiculous, 10% kind of creepy and personal. For example, the first time Brendon had been witness to an awkward, kind of intense woman ask Ryan about his relationship with his father and how that influenced his songs. The answer to this question was obvious to anybody who actually listened to the lyrics of the song, which apparently this woman had not. Immediately, Brendon had sort of bristled, shifting a little closer to Ryan and using his forceful personality or cracking a passive aggressive joke to quickly change the subject. Ryan never voiced his appreciation aloud, but he didn’t have to. Brendon still didn’t know the full ins and outs of it all, because he hadn’t asked. The last thing he wanted to do to was to step over a line and make him uncomfortable- even if at this point hardly anything did, and they were sleeping in the same bed whenever it were possible, for God’s sake.

For all the shortcomings, interviewing had its advantages- some of the people, though rare, were cool, asking relevant and interesting questions and having personalities that weren’t completely 2-dimensional. Plus, Brendon was most at ease in the spotlight, and wasn’t ashamed to admit that he basked in the attention that being a new member and the lead singer brought. He was a crowd pleaser, doing most things asked of him and answering all questions with good humour, though he was always on alert, fully aware of Ryan looking at him most of the time and thinking to himself that Ryan might as well just be all over him, he was making it so obvious. He didn’t voice this, though, because he was aware that he was now Ryan’s anchor, his go to when he got anxious and needed to ground himself on something. Apparently Brendon was the answer to his problem of nerves and self-consciousness, a role Brendon accepted but didn’t really fully understand.

Today, though, was different. As loveable as everybody thought Brendon was, he sometimes received comments from interviewers and fans alike about how hyperactive he was, how he couldn’t sit still, how he ‘dominated the conversation’ and ‘wouldn’t let anybody else get a word in’. Now, Brendon had been diagnosed with adhd when he had been a kid, and had never once taken advised medication for it apart from once, when his mother got a call from school asking how much sugar she gave him. It had gone awfully, a younger Brendon had been closed off and quiet and unsettlingly out of it. So his mom said he didn’t have to take it and Brendon sort of learned to cope in other ways. He’d never thought twice about taking it again until now- when it was noticeable, easy to criticise, and his anxiety was also starting to rear its head, he made the decision to access the same ones he’d taken when he was younger, as well as some he hadn’t tried before for his anxiety, opting to ignore the adverse affects when he had been just a kid. The comments sort of got to him and he was worried about ‘ruining an image’.

They had certainly calmed him down, quietened him, but Brendon looked permanently uncomfortable all day, barely saying a word and when he did, he kind of stumbled over them, spoke slowly or just passed the question quickly onto one of his bandmates. He didn’t make much eye contact, and mostly stayed sat in the same enclosed position, staring at the ground or his feet or the wall. He felt sick and wrong and wondered whether it was supposed to feel like this, and he was frustrated because they were supposed to be the answer to his problems. Even if he had only noticed the ‘problems’ when other people, people who didn’t know him, pointed them out. By the end of the day, he was drained despite doing nothing, and weirdly tired. He was just glad to be back at a hotel with Ryan, and when they finally got into their room, he hung back for Ryan to go in then shut the door behind him.

Most embarrassing day of my life. Brendon watched Ryan absently, setting his jaw for a moment then wandering towards the bed. And we have another tomorrow. I’m gonna say I’m sick. He nodded in vague agreement, because he felt slightly sick as well. Brendon suddenly felt the urge to do something, anything, to feel a little more like himself, and moved onto the bed beside Ryan, climbing over him suddenly and resting a knee between his legs, leaning down to kiss him with whatever enthusiasm he could muster. He curled his fingers into Ryan’s hair, and for a moment, felt a little better. But his mind was somewhere else and he suddenly pulled back, shaking his head and moving aside. ”Sorry. I feel like- shit.”

oh such torturous things ;; b&r

It wasn’t like Brendon had been pretending they were together or anything- he tried his best to be as strictly platonic as he physically could around Ryan, in fact, but his guard always seemed to slip and things like this happened- they were watching the sunset together, alone, Brendon’s head resting on Ryan’s shoulder and Ryan’s arm looped around his waist. These gestures alone probably weren’t strong enough to suggest anything, if the subtext and the tension wasn’t already there- the way Brendon kind of shivered, and Ryan’s eagerness to actually touch implied more than they intended. Neither of them had much self control (even if Brendon saw it as a feat of incredible strength that he hadn’t just leaned over and kissed him yet). Distantly, he wondered if Ryan felt the same- Brendon wasn’t stupid, he could tell when somebody liked him; but still, there was some doubt in his mind that the emotion was mutually strong, and he didn’t want to look before he leapt. Then again, he’d always said that to himself, then always gone back on it.

Mostly it was this rejection that he was afraid of, even if he told himself there were multiple reasons why they shouldn’t feel like this, or at least shouldn’t be together. One, if they were public about it, nobody would ever leave them alone out of some weird curiosity or plain weirdness or some kind of ridiculous abuse that was always called no matter what; but if they kept it under wraps that would not only prove difficult but also completely suck. Second, what if the dynamic changed? Even when Brendon thought about a future where they were together, he had waking nightmares of changes in the system that had worked perfectly for his eight months in the band, maybe fights that forced people to pick sides, leading to a dramatic split or something along those lines... Brendon wasn’t usually a negative person, preferring to be optimistic, or even more preferably, just live in the moment, but this wasn’t any old decision to make.

It really didn’t help that every five seconds he got some compliment from Ryan, about his appearance or presence or voice or smile and now his apparent writing skills. Sure, he appreciated them deeply, played them on repeat sometimes, no big deal, but they were making it tremendously difficult to avoid that rush of affection, and that was hard to hide; a dust of pink always coloured his cheekbones, and his eyes always automatically sought to rest anywhere but Ryan’s eyes, because that would make the feeling even stronger. Brendon was a mess. He’d never been like this with someone he’d had feelings for before- but he knew this was different. Brendon was never nervous, really, but this really did get him on edge because they were always balancing between one world and another, not really wanting to commit to either, just in case it was either too late to change their minds, or something when drastically wrong. Sure. Your ‘rusty’ is probably still amazing. ”Shut up and kiss somebody else’s ass,” He said with a grin, not serious at all, his voice soft and gentle as he nudged him shyly in the side.

Suddenly, they had run out of things to say. Well, not really, Brendon could go on forever, but neither of them seemed to want to take responsibility for whatever happened next. He felt on the verge of something, and his heart was beating almost wildly. Plucking up the courage, he turned back towards Ryan, considering him for a second, weighing all of his options. There was always excusing himself from the situation, or using the rain as a getaway; there was continuing to talk vaguely about lyrics, there was just continuing to sit in silence and then there was the option Brendon chose, which was to reach out to retrieve his glasses but instead up with a hand curled around Ryan’s jaw and moments later, a kiss that Brendon could only describe as ‘finally’. For a moment, he was terrified Ryan wouldn’t respond, but then he felt it being returned and relief lulled him into comfortable security. He drew a thumb across Ryan’s cheekbone when he pulled back, eyelashes low over his eyes and his lips parted, suddenly certain of what he wanted.

I think I’m in love with you, too. That was definitely the best news he’d received in a while. His breathless smile widened into a grin, and he almost couldn’t register that this was actually happening. Actually, I am. I’m definitely in love with you. Brendon said nothing for a half second, caught up in Ryan’s eyes, and then just laughed softly. ”Fuck. Yeah, I’m in love with you. I love you.” His newfound confidence was evident by the now upright way he held himself, the hand still cradling Ryan’s jaw, his other hand curled around his waist. We’re idiots. That earned him instant agreement. ”Damn right. Took us long enough.” Idly, but fully involved, he moved his hand down from Ryan’s jaw to hang onto his collar, and the hand at his waist moved a little further down to his hip. He let Ryan kiss him, eyes closing briefly again.

You have no idea how much I’ve wanted to do that. Brendon scoffed, opening his eyes again, searching his expression carefully. Of course Brendon knew. Wasn’t like he’d wanted to do it for months, wasn’t like the impulse was intense and suffocating and he finally felt like he could breathe around him. ”Try me,” Was all he said, squeezing Ryan’s hip gently and leaning up yet again, this time trying for a little more intense, even biting ever so gently on Ryan’s bottom lip and then moving to kiss at his jawbone. He could, again, get used to this.

oh such torturous things ;; b&r

With that next little quip, Brendon was only half-joking; even though he tried to seem even a little lighthearted about it, when he saw that Ryan looked like a deer caught in headlights and replied with a semi-serious sounding I’ll keep it in mind, He felt himself heat up, suddenly even more on board than he’d been when he had been the one to suggest it. Enamoured, and now kind of touch-starved even if he was sitting right next to Ryan with no empty space between them, different kinds of thoughts were in his head and he had to shake himself out of his daze, even if he moved a hand to Ryan’s side and curled it around, and turned his head a little further into his shoulder. “You can hold me to that.” He grinned, ignoring the next thought in his mind, which was ‘you can hold me against anything you want’. He had no idea what had gotten into him and he was a little stunned by his own sudden change of airs, but he quickly managed to regulate his feelings and just keep smiling into his shoulder, the hand curled around Ryan’s waist not moving.

Suddenly, Ryan’s gentle grip of his side tightened a little, and he was a little startled, but then he relaxed, figuring he could definitely get used to this. He was at risk of being complimented more- usually a blessing Brendon accepted and even encouraged, but from Ryan they just made him flush, and nobody had done that to him before. Brendon didn’t recognise the parts of him that Ryan brought out- bravado gone, a sort of shyness in its place, endearingly flustered. To prevent this, he stopped Ryan before he could start, deciding that the physical contact alone was pushing him over the line he tried desperately not to cross. Even if he wanted to. The unknowns were just too many and the potential problems caused were too great- he doubted Jon and Spencer would forigive if him he joined their band, usurped the lead singer, hooked up with said lead singer (or anything more serious), and then cause problems by upsetting the dynamic.

He reminded himself that songwriting had been the purpose of this trip, not to have some alone time with his new best friend. To keep himself on track, he handed the notebook over, shifting away slightly just so he could properly read Ryan’s expression. ”Before you judge me too harshly, remember I’m a beginner,” He smiled, though he was serious. Ryan’s opinion meant a lot to him, so he waited with bated breath, even if his absent thoughts were Wow, he looks good in my glasses. Then, ryan was smiling, and his heart swelled with hope. Was this approval, or amusement? Brendon. He was jolted out of his thoughts by the reminder that he really liked his name when Ryan said it. Yeah, he was in way too deep. This is amazing. I can’t believe you were so worried, I mean... His eyebrows raised, and he shrugged to play it off, again caught off guard by the genuity of Ryan’s words. ”Thank you,” He said in a soft voice, again really swayed by the urge to kiss him. Maybe he was a little lovesick.

Lovesick. That word hadn’t crossed his mind before, nor had the word ‘love’- well, that was wrong, he knew he loved Ryan, but he loved Spencer and Jon, too. This was different. He had shocked himself by using it, and barely heard what Ryan said next. It’s beautiful. Brendon had to physically stop himself from being cliché with a little smile. I can hear you in the words already. ”I’d sing a little for you, but my voice is a little rusty. Can’t give a bad impression, my job is at stake here.” He was smiling, and took the journal back, flicking through it absently and putting it back down, then realising that the sun was beginning to properly set, the sky stained orange and pink and the rain picking up just a little. He didn’t care. “Thank you, Ry.” He wanted to go back to their original position without seeming too desperate, so he moved forwards and reached out as if to take his glasses back- but instead of remaining there and resting his head back on his shoulder like his plan was, his hand moved to rest at the side of his jaw, and without even thinking it through but having also thought about it for a long time, he leaned in to kiss him, waiting for a few moments before pulling back, his breath caught in his throat. He was speaking then, his voice gentle and anxious but steady in his surety. “I think I’m in love with you.”

oh such torturous things ;; b&r

Brendon, also, went to great lengths to pretend that he didn’t feel as strongly about Ryan as he really did- or at least, strongly in s certain way. They were still pretty much best friends, but it felt natural, not like Brendon had just barged in and taken places. He was too lovable for people to complain that much when Ryan suddenly decided the best person to spend time with was him. This was good, of course- they worked well together, had a strange, complimentary dynamic- but it just meant Brendon had to strive to give the impression at Ryan’s eyes didn’t make his insides melt a little, that the tiniest little brush felt electric, that his laugh didn’t trigger a rush of intense affection every time. This wasn’t just friendship he was feeling, Brendon had never bothered denying it. He just had to keep his feeling under lock and key until they went away on their own- though, the more time it took, the less Brendon was thinking it was just some regular crush. This he avoided addressing completely. It was too daunting.

So was being so close to his fellow bandmate- the arm around his waist shouldn’t have made him so on edge but so blissfully relaxed at the same time, and pressing his side against Ryan’s shouldn’t have made him shiver. He didn’t care, though, not really, because he was warm, and comfortable, and about as close as he could be without it seeming like something else was going on. Though he supposed they were past that point, unless Brendon had misread the situation so wrongly. He didn’t want to dwell on this, though, and just moved on to lighthearted joking, even if the subtext was still rampant through the tamest words he could possibly conjure. Amusement lilted his voice, and he figured the best way to hide was in plain sight- so he addressed it head-on, much to Ryan’s sudden surprise. ‘Flirting’ probably wasn’t the right word to use, but it required no clarification. Brendon still hadn’t moved his head from his bandmate’s shoulder, growing too comfortable. You noticed? Laughing, he nudged Ryan, mischievousness glinting in his eyes and his eyebrows raising as he pretended to consider the question, even if he already knew the answer. Both of them did. “The next time you try to undress me with your eyes, give me a shout and I’ll make your life easier.”

That was kind of dubious. At this point, Brendon didn’t even know whether he was kidding or not and just laughed breathlessly again, hoping to dispel the subject quickly before he thought about it too long and hard. Dumb question, anyway. The reasons ‘why’ are pretty obvious. Swiftly, his brief moments of confidence and general flirtatiousness faltered, and he felt his face flush, his cheekbones dusted pink as he failed to hold back an uncharacteristically shy smile. God, nobody could do this to him except Ryan, and it was getting annoying. “Enlighten me,” He challenged, then thought better of it because this could spell an end to all the composure he (thought) he had. “Actually, no. My ego is already too inflated. I hardly fit in the cabin anymore.” Ryan was still laughing, and he felt like kissing him. Again. The urge was strong and he had to physically keep himself back from ruining whatever it was they already had.

Luckily, the subject was changed and and Brendon could get Ryan talking about music and lyrics for long enough that they both forgot the rather tense conversation they had been having. With the mention of a song came Ryan’s immediate enthusiasm- it was endearing- and also the opportunity to escape the situation. It doesn’t sound dumb. I really like it. “Haven’t heard it yet, don’t get your hopes up.” I never know what I want to write, honestly. It’ll start out as one song, then I realize that I’ve been writing about two different subjects, and suddenly I’ve got two new songs in progress rather than one.” Instantly, Camisado and Nails for Breakfast were the songs he linked that to- same theme, different aspects. Brendon kind of desperately wanted the details, if only so he could understand the songs better, and more importantly, understand Ryan. He was still a very enclosed person. Brendon wanted to know everything Ryan was willing to share, even if it took forever to fully gain his trust.

Stream of consciousness. But- I don’t think you’ll have a problem writing lyrics, considering you have a natural talent for everything else musical. He almost scoffed doubtfully. It had never been his strong suit, even if he didn’t particularly want to admit it was a weakness. What do you have so far? Brendon considered singing to him for a second, then reluctantly moved away to reach down and pick up his notebook, discarded in the pebbles. He handed it over, already missing his body heat, and flicked it to the right page before dropping his hands into his lap.