Neve

carved on a tree || wade & joey

Okay, leave me alone. Wade smiled affectionately. If he had, like, a dollar for everytime Joey told him to go away or get lost or leave me alone, he’d probably have enough money to buy himself some new clothes that actually fit and didn’t look like the closet of a ridiculously patriotic Canadian that pretended to care more about hockey than they did so they could wear a Canadian flag sweater without getting funny looks from Canadians and non-Canadians alike. Well. That wasn’t far off, anyway- so he didn’t voice any of this aloud, aware Joey would immediately call him out for it. Luckily, he didn’t even get chance to slip up and say it anyway, because predictably, they were kissing, Wade hindered by a rush of affection as he moved a hand to curl his fingers almost tightly into Joey’s hair. He pulled back reluctantly, grinning and looking down at him, seriously considering just cancelling the reservation because they couldn’t do this over dinner without getting strange looks. He could tell joey was intent on getting there, which was cute, but probably more for the sake of clearing a laughable record than actually caring terribly about the date and dinner itself. They could have just as much fun at home, watching a movie, really, but it was tradition now to be tragically late for dates at actual places.

When Wade became faux-serious, he noticed Joey’s exasperation and suspicion, and when he moved quickly past the subject of Joey’s sister, he also noticed the presence of sudden questions that crossed Joey’s mind, evident in his expression. He halted for a second to give a watered-down explanation to save himself interrogation. ”She asked me out. I said no.” He moved swiftly onwards, to call out joey for his less than admirable ghosting habits, which earned him a feeble protest. Wade moved a hand to jokingly cover his mouth for half a beat, then he smiled and dropped it so he was holding Joey’s hands again. First of all, how dare you. Second of all, I'm realising I am straight after all right now. It was nice experimenting, buuut... Affronted, Wade dropped Joey’s hands and folded his arms. ”Just ‘nice’? Nice?” Wade, in a way that was so typical of him, shook his head and put on a show of being mournful, but also arrogant. ”I think I speak for both of us when I say... Our ‘experimenting’ has been much better than any other-“ He searched for a word that wouldn’t make Joey hit him. ”Antics? That’s a dumb fucking word but you’re like, weirdly pg-13 sometimes.”

Wade shrugged his shoulders. ”If you’re straight, I’m italian.” He said matter-of-factly, then suddenly his next target was Joey’s melodramatic son, and Joey apparently didn’t appreciate the joke that had Wade reeling. Jesus, who raised you? You know how in, like, 2013, everyone said JB was the shame of Canada? That's actually you. Die. That was low, even for Joey. ”Vaffanculo, Joseph. Bieber wishes he were me.” Yes, Wade had picked up a little Italian from Joey’s relatively frequent usage- but only the curse words. He caught the shirt that was hurled at him and squinted at Joey, sitting up once he had caught his breath. Apparently not done, he tried calling in vain once more to annoy Joey, and easily succeeded. Is that really his name in your phone? Siri, is that really his name in you? Wow. ”Sure is. Wake me up when you’ve disowned him, yeah?”

Wade watched as Joey turned around to fix his tie and straighten out his dishevelled appearance, standing up and wandering over to wrap his arms around his waist for just a second so he could land a few kisses, starting at his neck, then his jaw, then his cheekbone in quick succession. Stepping back before Joey could complain, he idly examined his wardrobe from over the other man’s shoulder. Hm, okay, well, that’s not what I’m referring to. Wade immediately grinned. Are we, como se dice, bisecting the triangle? ”No, but I’m sure you’d fucking love that.” Doing the devil’s dance? Going to the grocery store? Honestly, Wade. I need to prepare. At the last comment, Wade practically spluttered, but then started laughing, rolling one shoulder back in an undecided shrug. "Guess we’ll find out. You call the shots.”

What? How often- you know what,that’s none of my bus-unless. Wade looked genuinely disgusted, staring at Joey for a few silent seconds before holding his hands up and forming a cross with his fingers and holding it in Joey’s direction. ”Begone, you fucking demon.” He shook his head and didn’t elaborate (hoping Joseph got the picture), instead just took the hanger and the jacket and obediently put it on. He easily caught that glance down, and raised a questioning eyebrow. ”My eyes are up here, you know. But also I will take it off if you want me too.” The trouble with Wade was that... It was impossible to tell if he was serious. Be it his manner or his tone, he always sounded dead serious, but- he couldn’t be, right? Not some things. Nobody actually knew, apart from maybe Joey, who questioned him further on the odd occasion. You know, four inches' difference really becomes extra obvious when you trade clothes. You look like one of those guys in school who has a mysterious growth spurt in a day and suddenly nothing fits anymore. ”I stopped listening at ‘four inches difference’ because I was worried.”

Wade stood still as Joey buttoned it up. Well. I support it. You can put your maple syrup jersey under it and be even more high fashion. How insensitive. Wade narrowed his eyes and opened his mouth to retaliate, but Joey was a step ahead of him. Sorry, I meant, uh, the Canadian hockey jersey. "Sure as hell you fuckin’ did.”

when you were east || b&r

Brendon did kind of know there was no way he could attend this party, for both technical and personal reasons, because it was the 21 years landmark, it would be pretty much centred around drinking- and a, he wouldn’t even be able to get in to any potential venues at his age, and b, even if he did manage to get in, he was aware people would be uncomfortable drinking around him, and Ryan would be too stressed about the possible triggers and temptations so easily accessible to Brendon to enjoy himself- he didn’t want that, he wanted Ryan to actually enjoy himself for once without worrying about Brendon. Even so, it wasn’t like he wanted to be left at home- so he just pushed it to the back of his mind, pretending like he was going even though he knew Ryan would be thinking nervously whenever he mentioned it ‘how do I tell him he isn’t going’. He would have been offended at the frankness; the conversation was literally a Brendon, you’re not going, followed by Brendon looking kind of taken aback, followed by a softer but still persistent voice of You can’t go, because... And then Brendon tuned out, because he already knew the reasons. He just stared at Ryan as he spoke, smiling despite himself because he was pretty, but then making himself sad because he couldn’t be with Ryan at this party.

He got over it eventually, or he thought he did until they were both standing in the doorway, Brendon’s arms wrapped around Ryan’s waist, chasing kisses when Ryan tried to pull away and even trying his luck at his neck just to extend the time they had together, until Ryan told him with as much seriousness as he could muster that he had to leave or he’d miss his flight. Brendon then kind of peeled himself off his boyfriend and kissed him once, chastely, again, lingering only a little before pulling back and leaning against the doorframe as Ryan finally actually left. The next few days we’re going to suck, he thought absently, and stood there for a few seconds before closing it behind him as he walked back into their apartment. Immediately after he collapsed down onto the couch and turned on the TV, texting Ryan almost right away just to say ‘I love you’. They were kind of ridiculous and Brendon missed him already.

It was sad, really, because Brendon was the metaphorical life of the party (even though he wasn’t sure how he’d be, sober, around drunk people, and he was kind of scared to find out). He kept in frequent contact with Ryan, who happily obliged to respond to his near-ridiculous levels of texting, and snapchat selfies, and tagged Instagram memes. When Ryan was understandably too busy, he tried not to be too much like a puppy left at home, and messaged the group chat instead. Holden responded just with a ‘wish you were here’, mitch with a shrug emoji, Gabe read it and didn’t respond, and dallon was the only one who actually satisfied him with a rundown of what was happening, until they all started ignoring him (even Ryan), and Brendon figured the party had started and he just sighed to himself before unpausing the game he’d left suspended for the last hour and finally tried to carry on. Luckily, Ryan started messaging him again pretty soon, so he was entertained again. Brendon really wasn’t meant to be on his own.

He knew Ryan missed him, but he really didn’t expect that within five minutes, he had booked a flight back to Seattle and had left his own birthday party unannounced. Brendon wondered if Ryan was drunk- obviously he’d had alcohol, Brendon had seen it from several people’s snapchat stories, and it was a goddamn 21st birthday party, but still- drunk? It was odd to associate Ryan, who actually swore off alcohol once upon a time, with drunkenness, drunk texts and the like. Brendon sent back several confused texts, but got no response- presumably because Ryan was on a plane, on the way back to Seattle. He made a mental note to actually get ready, and look presentable, because he looked like a mess who hadn’t showered yet today, and his boyfriend hadn’t seen him in a couple of days, and he wanted to look cute. Not that he didn’t anyway, but, like, extra pretty.

He almost forgot, full disclosure; so when he got a text from Ryan, saying he’d landed and he’d be home in about an hour, he shot to his feet and scrambled to shower, get dressed and do his hair, so he’d look presentable, as if the man who was coming home hadn’t known him most of his life and was literally in love with him. His timing was impeccable, apparently, because as soon as he had sorted out his hair, and was examining himself in the mirror, some familiar arms wrapped around his waist, and a familiar face joined his own in the mirror as Ryan pressed his chest against Brendon’s back and shoulder and pressed a kiss onto his cheek. Ryan was grinning, and Brendon relaxed into his arms, smiling with equal enthusiasm. Hey. He let himself be turned around and pressed close, holding onto his arm and his side, looking up at him, enamoured. Were you getting ready for me? That’s so fucking cute. Laughing softly, brendon shrugged his shoulders back, noting how Ryan kind of smelled of whiskey and he definitely sounded a little tipsy. Surprisingly, he found it didn’t bother him.

”Yeah, baby, I wanted to look pretty,” He replied honestly, and was close to elaborating when Ryan leaned in to kiss him, a gesture Brendon returned enthusiastically for a few moments before Ryan pulled back way too soon. He chased again, reminiscent of the goodbyes at the doorway, and curled a hand tighter around his side just above his hip, almost possessive. I missed you so much, New York sucks, and. Twenty-one isn't as cool as people make it seem. Brendon raised an eyebrow. ”You kidding? You can buy me alcohol now.” He smiled, making sure Ryan knew he was definitely joking, and leaned up to kiss him again, moving his arms to wrap around his neck this time. There was a weird combination of relaxation and urgency- they had all the time in the world but Brendon wanted to hurry. This lead to him speaking between kisses, words and phrases between kisses punctuated with intakes and exhales of breath. ”I forgot how tall you are now,” He managed, biting his lip.

when you were east || b&r

So maybe Brendon was a little upset when Ryan actually agreed to go to the 21st birthday party his friends were throwing him, but he didn’t voice that. At first he didn’t go straight to disappointment, and rather saw it as an opportunity- open bar, jackpot- but when Brendon mentioned in passing, ‘oh, I’ll probably wear this to your 21st’, Ryan kind of turned to him, looking vaguely concerned, and gently let him down. His boyfriend told him he was not of age yet, so he wouldn’t be let in anyway; Brendon kind of scoffed at that, he’d find a way- and besides, he knew Ryan was really just telling him that even if he was 21, he didn’t really want Brendon around that kind of thing. Brendon was currently in recovery, and was doing quite well- the thoughts that jumped to the forefront of his mind were just wishful, impulsive thinking, and Brendon pushed them firmly to the back of his mind. Honestly, he just wanted to be around people, to be social, to have fun at parties, to be with his boyfriend- since drinking alcohol was often a social thing, though, it was difficult for him to do just that. Ryan was right, obviously. Didn’t mean Brendon had to like it.

He supposed he couldn’t really be that bothered- Ryan was usually selfless, always thinking about Brendon before himself, and it was rare for Ryan to even leave Brendon alone for a few hours- they were ridiculous and almost codependent to the point of almost unhealthy- let alone go to a party in a different state. So Brendon didn’t kick up a fuss like he sometimes did, he just kind of forced a smile until it became a real one- he was happy Ryan was actually attending something like this. Ryan flew out the day before the party, and Brendon had tried not to hang onto him at the door. He kind of just sat around, then- eating pizza, playing video games, messing around aimlessly with the guitar- he managed to fill the time enough so he wasn’t bored out of his mind, but he needed more stimulation- from other people. And all of his friends were at Ryan’s party. He was, unfortunately, one of, if not the youngest of all of them. And Joey was back in England, having not yet got him and Wade organised enough to move to the states.

He survived on his own for the first day, then night, where he felt a little lonely, used to being cuddled for five seconds before he got too hot and pushed Ryan gently but firmly away- but he had called Ryan, leaning back against the headboard, and talked to him until Ryan said his phone was dying, when he finally put the phone down on the dresser and went to bed. The next day was the day of the party, and Brendon lay on his back for most of the day, snapchatting Ryan and sending endless messages to the group chat, demanding people kept him informed. Luckily, Dallon was organised, so managed to talk Brendon through it until he was satisfied. Then, he spent the day flicking through channels after going out to do some light grocery shopping and even get some lunch. It was nice to do his own thing for once, sure, but he felt a loss where Ryan’s hand should have been interlinked with his own.

Brendon told himself to get over it, it wasn’t like Ryan was dead, he’d be home sometime tomorrow, early afternoon, possibly later- but it had been too long for Brendon to enjoy being on his own anymore, he thrived on attention and companionship. So he texted Ryan up until the start of the party, when he started seeing pictures of snapchat, pictures of Ryan looking ridiculously cute and holding whiskey. Brendon smiled fondly, even at the possibility Ryan was a little tipsy. He was glad his boyfriend was enjoying himself. He managed to last a whole hour before messaging him again, asking him how it was going. He got an almost immediate response of It’s okay, I wish you were here, and Brendon didn’t reply, just turned the TV back on for another hour, hour and a half until he got another text. I’m bored, I’m buying a plane ticket. Okay, what? What do you mean? A quick reply of, I’m coming home. Brendon was grinning, but also concerned. But, your party. He got no further explanation but a rough estimate of when he’d be home, and airport updates every now and then. God, Brendon loved him.

He did intend on cleaning up a little before Ryan got home (he was scruffy, his hair was unruly, he needed to shave, and he definitely hadn’t been wearing the same clothes for a few days), but lost track of time and suddenly Ryan was on his way, and he’d be home in an hour maximum. Brendon turned off the TV and got into the shower, dried himself off and wrapped a towel around his waist, stood in front of the mirror over the sink to shave whilst simultaneously texting Ryan. Okay Baby, I love you, see you soon. It was quite difficult to do both at the same time, but he managed, and he was clean shaven. He then turned away to go and find some clean clothes, and only found the only pair of jeans he hadn’t ripped- then he had a two minute debate with himself over whether to just wear his cropped sweater or one of ryan’s shirts that somehow fit him. He went with the sweater, pulling it over his head after he’d put on the jeans, and then went back to the bathroom to style his hair. When he was done, he stepped back. There. He was pretty again.

archetype of television || b&r

Though Brendon would have definitely preferred it if Ryan didn’t have to leave to go anywhere for very long without him, he did kind of enjoy the time he had alone, because he could invite Holden round and act like a five year old without being practically ‘parented’ by Ryan. Sure, he brought alcohol every time, but at this point for Brendon it was more like good practice than an actual problem. Besides, Holden meant no harm- the only problem was the potential of Ryan freaking out and jumping to conclusions, although as Brendon got better, Ryan did too. What helped was that Holden only every brought one type of drink- the same every time- so it was obvious to Ryan when he walked in and saw cans everywhere that it was the work of a careless and slightly disrespectful Holden, not a relapsing Brendon. There was also the case of broken guitar strings on all of Ryan’s instruments, even the mint green guitar that was his favourite. Brendon intended to restring them, but. He got distracted five minutes later and ended up jumping through video games for the next two days straight.

It wasn’t like Brendon was helpless, he just kind of forgot to take care of himself properly because it was usually Ryan doing that to some extent- cooking, because Brendon was useless at anything beyond using the microwave, going to bed at a healthy time, because usually when Ryan got into bed, he followed suit because it was boring without him, and even taking care of the wolfsbane supply they needed, because god knows Brendon would wreak havoc otherwise. It was expensive, and difficult to make, and he was lucky as all hell to have somebody who actually paid attention in potions class and didn’t just doodle on his work and cause a lot of distractions. He also apparently forgot to dress himself, because he was pretty sure he hadn’t put some pants on the entire three days Ryan had been gone, never mind a shirt. Holden didn’t seem to mind very much.

Kind of like the story of the emperor’s new clothes- he hadn’t noticed he was wearing practically nothing until the one person he actually properly listened to turned up and mentioned it outright. Obviously, this reaction wasn’t immediate, because he was so wrapped up in the grief of losing his game because of bogart’s overzealousness. A few moments passed after he replied to Ryan’s initial self-introduction, and he finally registered that the love of his life was Home and it was the greatest day ever. Better than his wedding day, even. With great enthusiasm he practically vaulted over the back of the couch to wrap his arms around Ryan, hugging him tightly and fully relaxing in his arms as Ryan returned the gesture with equal enthusiasm. He heard a gentle laugh, but just ignored it and kissed his cheek quickly, moving his hands to frame his husband’s face, as if he hadn’t looked through his camera roll and seen him every single day just because he missed having him around in person.

Can’t what? This is an anti-‘Dottie slander’ household. ”Can’t jump,” He finished, grinning. ”And it isn’t when you’re away.” He kind of moved subconsciously closer, then kissed him, wanting to skip everything else and just show him how much he missed him. Unfortunately, he had to breathe, so pulled back, and moved his hands down to Ryan’s waist. Brendon finally registered that he had literally no clothes on besides his underwear, and rushed to explain himself. Ryan, apparently, wasn’t very surprised. He watched as his husband leaned away to get his own phone, and then when Ryan showed him the screen, he had the decency to look just a little sheepish. Babe, Do Not Disturb mode has never been your friend. Brendon took his phone back and scrolled through- mostly texts from Holden about coming back over, a few from Ryan, several other notifications and the group chat that Holden had unmuted for him when he’d somehow guessed his phone password. ”I was very involved with Assassin’s creed, okay?”

Also, I don't think you would have put clothes on, but the sentiment means a lot. Brendon nodded, unable to argue with that. Besides- I don't mind. Kinda the opposite. Brendon grinned again as Ryan drew his hand across his chest, and had to suppress it when Ryan leaned in to kiss him again so he could reciprocate. When he pulled back, he looked kind of sleepy- partly because Ryan’s return was making him feel all warm, partly because he hadn’t slept in like three days. ”Holden didn’t mind much either,” He laughed, then frowned suddenly. "Oh, those in the kitchen- Holden’s,” Brendon said hesitantly, searching Ryan’s expression. If he had been bothered, he would have mentioned it already, but still. Better safe than sorry.

While Ryan looked around, Brendon just wrapped his arms over his shoulders loosely. How did it get like this in three days? ”Holden.” He said gravely. Enough explanation. And, how are you alive? I count three pizza boxes. Brendon was smiling when he dropped his arms to his sides and stepped back, turning around and kind of leaning against Ryan’s chest a little to survey the carnage. In response, he kind of shrugged one shoulder. ”No idea. Hey, I think we should-" He stopped suddenly, looking devastated. ”Oh, fuck me.” Brendon drew his hands down across his face, then turned around and looked up at Ryan with a long sigh. ”It’s full moon tonight.”

archetype of television || b&r

Though Brendon didn’t exactly regret ‘separating’ from Ryan musically (really it had been Brendon who had suggested, orchestrated and demanded the entire procedure of panic becoming his and his alone), there were some- many- downfalls to having a different career to your husband, he quickly found. They didn’t spend as much time together, which was weird in itself; they were used to being together during work, play and leisure, and though they often got distracted when they were supposed to be working anyway, it was nice. They were close enough to share that much time together and not get sick of eachother or irritated (usually). Now, Ryan and Brendon worked separately, having to divide time in their makeshift studio as equally as possible, vying for attention when the other worked, bored to all hell while the other was in the living room watching tv or something. Brendon liked the independence, sure, but he missed them bickering about something dumb like a single word in a lyric or a single key in a piano tab.

Maybe they got more work done, but Brendon thrives on attention and Ryan found it difficult to resist his charms, so not that much more. What was worse than the awkward timing and schedule was the fact that Brendon now had to tour by himself if Ryan was to stay home and actually work on his own music; and that Ryan, kickstarting a career almost from scratch when Brendon had generously given himself the big name of the band, felt the need to actually go far away to find and meet collaborators and producers. So maybe he was a little offended that Ryan hadn’t just asked him- Oh yeah, baby, I wonder where else you could find a producer- but if he mentioned it, Ryan would probably mention something about professionalism and bias. Whatever. Brendon was far from biased when it came to music- if he didn’t like it, he’d say. The problem was he’d liked everything Ryan had ever done musically anyway.

They were kind of ridiculous, honestly- a few hours apart was something of a struggle, never mind a few days, and in the future a few months when Brendon inevitably went on tour. Baby steps, though- Ryan was flying out to NYC, and though Brendon had subtly done everything in his power to get him to stay, he told himself eventually he was being selfish and was supportive, enthusiastic above all that Ryan was finally getting a move on. He was proud of him. Brendon would have suggested he come along (he had nothing to do anyways), but he also felt it wasn’t really his place- this was Ryan’s career, he didn’t have to interfere with everything seeing as it was Brendon who had put his husband in this position of starting from scratch. Anyway, he’d packed the night previous, and then they were standing at the door, and Brendon had subconsciously clung on to him, kissing him like they would never see eachother again or something. Eventually, when Ryan had mentioned he was running a little late, he reluctantly pulled back and let go, picking up Bogart as Penny and Dottie looked ready to bolt after Ryan as he left.

So maybe Brendon had immediately invited Holden around, and Holden had brought himself some alcohol (out of no malicious intent, he was just kind of dumb) and Brendon had been proud of himself because he felt no urge or need. Even when Ryan was gone, he felt confident enough to be around it, so while Holden got through sixpacks, Brendon drank cherry cola and Gatorade because he was, like, seven. They had played video games (Brendon was obviously better), messed around with the guitars (Holden was better), and basically trashed the place on the first night Ryan was away. Brendon never bothered to clean up, so there were effectively empty beer cans strewn everywhere. He did realise this would look very bad to Ryan, though, so he put them all on the kitchen counter so he could point them out to Ryan and explain before Ryan saw them first and he looked guilty.

So he’d done nothing productive for the entire three days, apart from maybe advance a lot in assassin’s creed, which was a huge personal achievement. He was so engrossed that he didn’t even pay attention to his phone, which was on silent. In fact, he didn’t even know Ryan was coming home that day, so he was just in his underwear, eating last night’s leftover cold pizza, hair kind of disheveled in a cute way only Brendon could pull off. He was still playing video games, fully absorbed, so when Ryan entered the house, he didn’t even hear, just became irritated when bogart went crazy. Penny didn’t seem as bothered- she was fast asleep on the floor anyway. He didn’t even turn, but sounded irritated. ”Bogart, I swear to god, shut up.” Brendon exclaimed, suddenly annoyed because the distraction had caused him to die. He dropped the controller and rubbed his hands over his eyes, shifting to a more comfortable position, when suddenly- You talk to the TV even when I'm not here? Freak. Oh. Ryan was back."Freak? Thanks, babe.”

He put his controller aside as Bogart was dropped into his lap, and shifted his dog onto the couch. Wait. Ryan was back. Fully realising this, he turned round excitedly. Your dog is a mess. ”Fuck off, yours can’t even-" He gave up, because he had climbed over the back of the couch and wrapped his arms around Ryan, burying his face in his husband’s shoulder and then turning his head to kiss his cheekbone, grinning widely and then pulling back, reaching up then to cradle both sides of his face by his jaw. ”Hey. I’ve missed you so much.” He leaned in forcefully, catching him in a rather intense open-mouthed kiss, attempting to make up for the three days missed. He was smiling, though, so it was difficult, and when he pulled back he was laughing breathlessly. ”Fuck, why didn’t you tell me you were on your way back? I would have- put some clothes on.”

carved on a tree || wade & joey

Wade was, evidently, endlessly amused by the same things- often distasteful things at the expense of himself. Joey was the same (which was fortunate or unfortunate depending on how you looked at it), so they were always having weirdly lighthearted back-and-forths about heavy subjects, trying to one-up eachother with the most awful joke at their self-expense. There were limits, of course, where Wade was on the cusp of telling Joey that was probably enough, or Joey gave Wade a look with just enough conveyed annoyance that he stopped. The limit was pretty high, though, due to the mutual comfort they felt with eachother, and the fact that neither of them had been around for the worst part of their ‘personal tragedy’. They felt as much worry and responsibility for eachother anyhow- they were kind of ridiculous. It was like they had never grown apart (or rather, Joey had never cut him off), how close they were. You know, collectively, we’re kind of awful. Maybe we shouldn’t be going out into public. That was a valid point, and Wade looked nonchalant, shrugging his shoulders back and looking down as Joey tried to extend himself to as close as possible to Wade’s height. It was cute. Wade internally rolled his eyes at himself.

He told himself to stop being so ridiculous, then gave up and leaned down to kiss Joey anyway, surprisingly chastely considering his constant jokes and comments suggesting otherwise. All right. You’re funny, I guess. ”You guess?” Wade noticed Joey trying to break away and held him a little tighter in protest. ”I could be a fucking comedian.” He sounded so sure. Wade then made an effort to stop Joey in his tracks, and it seemed to work, because when he kissed him again, he didn’t complain, like he usually did when they were running late and Wade managed to make them even more late just by talking too much. Wade felt a hand curl around the back of his neck and lit up, complying when he was pulled closer. Why couldn’t they just stay home? He’d already made a joke regarding forgetting their plans, he didn’t want to backtrack and say he was serious now. Besides, he enjoyed their dates. Looking at the time, they’d probably be too late anyway. Maybe Wade could apparate them. That would be fun.

They finally pulled back, Wade now satisfied, but still enjoying making regular digs at Joey because his reaction was always funny no matter how many times he made the same joke. Zitto. Wade pulled a face, having heard Joey say that more times then he cared to count, still no closer to actually knowing what it meant. He was too proud to ask. ”Zitto to you too,” He replied defiantly, stepping back. Isabela? Yeah, you missed your chance. He thought back to meeting a few of Joey’s sisters, running through them all til he remembered which one he was talking about. He nodded in recognition. "Hardly.” She's the one who got married, now you're stuck with me. Sucks to suck, Walcott. Scoffing, he folded his arms. He remembered knowing that sister, and knowing that that sister liked him, but he didn’t remember ever feeling the same in return. ”I’d say you’re more stuck with me. And, hey, I just wanna say...” He stepped close for a second, looking serious and taking Joey’s hands. ”I’m glad I rejected your sister, that you didn’t contact me in years, and then I met you again and made you realise you’re not straight.” He made himself laugh. He let go of Joey’s hands, amused.

Anyway, there were more important things to discuss- namely what the hell Wade was going to wear, because as much as he would definitely go out in a towel, Joey probably wouldn’t let him. He watched as Joey looked through his clothes, and his mind wandered- to asking Brendon, mostly so he could make fun of his fashion sense (which ranged from snapbacks and tank tops that made him look like a straight fuckboy, in his opinion, to leopard print and leather). Joey probably wasn’t paying attention anyway- WADE. He cracked up, having to sit down and then lie back because Joey looked so alarmed. Still grinning, he sat up again. ”Your fucking face, oh my god,” Wade raised a hand almost in surrender, still laughing between breaths. Where’s your phone? I need to confiscate it. He’s traumatised enough without your help.

”Hey Siri,” He exclaimed suddenly, ”Send ‘Joey’s bastard son’ a message saying...” Wade started laughing again, unable to finish, and lay back onto the bed again in defeat. He managed to calm down, though, and got to his feet, holding the towel carefully where he felt it was at risk of slipping. You want to sleep with me tonight? Gross. I’m flattered. ”Get your mind out of the gutter,” He retorted, sounding mock-affronted. ”My intentions are completely innocent. By ‘sleep with you’, I mean have a nice 8 hours, asleep. Obviously.” He raised an eyebrow, as if to say yeah, everything I just said is bullshit.

Ooh, Interesting. I can’t wait to get kicked out and you’re charged for, like, indecent exposure. Hey, how about you wear something of mine? Clearly all you have is... Wade tuned out when Joey started talking about clothing again, instead responding to the first comment. ”Never a dull day, you know that, babe.” He smiled and stood obediently still when Joey finally took something out and held it out in front of him. So the sleeves will be a little short. Big deal! It’s cute. Hey, wait, see if the jacket looks good with a towel. Wade took it from the hanger and let go of his towel, which thankfully remained in place, then shrugged it on. ”Vogue.”

carved on a tree || wade & joey

Wade didn’t take so long to get ready because he was indecisive, or because he particularly cared about looking nice- he was just a more leisurely person, a procrastinator, who did things at his own, slow, impractical for other people pace. If he was less generally lazy, he’d probably take about as much time as Joey- twenty minutes to shower and get dressed and do his hair (Not that Wade did anything with his anyway)- but he wasn’t, and he wasn’t about to change his whole two-hour average routine (and that was on good days). They had to leave pretty soon and he had only just finished showering, very clean and very wet but also running very short on time. He didn’t have to look at a clock, or his phone; he just had to listen out for Joey’s inevitable, loud sigh, followed by Joey asking him whether he was ready, followed by Joey complaining that it always took him forever to get ready. He was fully prepared for this textbook interrogation until he actually saw Joey and then his smart-ass comments melted away. Wade, are you ready?

Very intelligently, Wade shook his head, and attempted to think of something clever to say before mentally shrugging and moving forwards to catch Joey in a kiss, suddenly very inclined to just stay home and reschedule dinner for another night. They could just have Mexican takeout- Wade’s go-to dinner anyway, and a lot less hassle than going out for Italian. Plus he could eat it in his underwear, and unfortunately doing that was frowned upon in public. He pulled back with an affectionate smile. You too. You know, you could conceivably wear that towel to the restaurant. If only. Wade wasn’t really listening, though, and he was busy thinking about how different this evening could go if they conveniently forgot all about their reservations and Joey was a more spontaneous person. It was fun to fantasise, but all he had at his disposal now was an obvious, ridiclous joke, that Joey didn’t catch on to until a few heartbeats afterwards.

Gonna need a big bottle of wine to deal with you, you know. ”Wow.” Wade pulled back, shaking his head and frowning with all seriousness he could muster. Unfortunately for Wade, joking like this was frequent, but at least he got used to it- he no longer took it as seriously, just retaliated with something else. ”While you drink that, I can grow a few tumours. Productivity.” He grinned, appreciating Joey moving a little closer and reaching out to hold onto both of his sides. Ye- oh. Rude. ”I was kidding, Joseph! I thought you liked Italian, anyway?” He tilted his head questioningly then cracked another smile as he leaned forwards for another kiss, lacing their fingers together as Joey smiled against his lips. Wade kissed his cheekbone and then drew back. "Kiss me like you miss me, Joey.” Not even a heartbeat later he leaned back in, kissing him as if making up for the whole hour or so they’d been apart (and it was Wade’s fault anyway for being oblivious to the rising state of the water bill).

Of course. What do you think I wore to my sister’s wedding? ”Damn, why wasn’t I there? Was it when you were-" He made the air-quote gesture with his hands- ”Straight?” He grinned, then launched into some fluent Italian (bad pronunciations of different shapes of pasta). ”No but seriously, which sister? I think I met a few in Ilvermorny days. Oh yeah, one of them definitely had a crush on me.” That was weird. Wade shook his head, then finally turned his attention to what was important- his wardrobe and what the hell he was going to wear. I just stopped being straight. I can’t help you with fashion. Yet, there he was, rooting through Wade’s wardrobe and trying to find something that made him look even a little bit more presentable.

”You know, maybe I should ask Bren.” He mused suddenly, taking the hanger from Joey and considering the ensemble. A vest, oh my God, wear that. That’s a Professor Walcott look. “Ugh, I’m not sixty. Anyway, yeah, I’m gonna call Brendon, like- ‘What should I wear if I want to sleep with your dad tonight?” Wade sounded dead serious, as he usually did when saying rather inappropriate things. He considered the clothes on the hanger in his hand. ”I guess it doesn’t really matter, they’ll be coming off anyway. Towel it is.”

don’t come bitchin’ to me || b&r

Serious fights between Brendon and Ryan were, thankfully, rare- though they had their fairly frequent minor disagreements and they bickered pretty often, actual, serious fights involving more intense negative emotion (usually anger, because Brendon’s emotions tended to all re-route towards an aggressive attitude when he was stressed) were few and far between. Those that did occur usually did so because Brendon wasn’t a very good listener, and when Ryan did try and talk to him about something important, maybe, he just tuned out or interrupted or changed the subject mid-conversation against Ryan’s will. Part of this was his adhd, but he was also sometimes slightly self-important- what could Ryan have to say that was more useful an input than what he had said himself? This was undoubtedly an unhealthy way to think about his significant other, but thankfully he had enough of a filter to prevent saying anything completely stupid. He valued Ryan’s opinion, really, obviously. He was sometimes just dismissive.

When they did fight, it was usually relatively intense but very brief, because they burned themselves out quickly and neither of them could bring themselves to stay mad at the other no matter what they’d done. This was a blessing and a curse- the blessing was obviously that fights were over fast, because at all times both of them would rather be just curled up together rather than being petty and stooping low; the curse was that they often didn’t find solutions to disputes they had in the first place, so the same fights kept happening or that underlying tension remained. In this instance, Brendon’s anger and Ryan’s irritation had been thrown off course by one thing- how weak and useless they were, for eachother. It didn’t help with being infuriated with someone when that particular someone was so damn pretty and that was the only coherent thought he could conjure while facing Ryan. The majority of his bitterness kind of just faded away, but he kept up a facade in an attempt to prove his point.

But now Ryan was being sweet, and actually apologising, something Brendon found it very hard to do. It was no admittance of wrong-doing, and Brendon could sense that Ryan didn’t really think he’d done anything wrong, but it was good enough for Brendon, really, especially when he had new, more interesting things on his mind. I don’t think just speaking my mind counts as kissing your ass, but sure. Brendon scoffed. Ryan wouldn’t be saying those things right now if it wasn’t for a purpose, and that purpose was to reconcile with Brendon; not exactly ill intent, but he still thought it qualified as sucking up to an extent. Brendon rewinded then, asking himself why it actually mattered. Ryan had apologised and wasn’t, like, yelling at him, so he supposed he should be thankful and just accept it.

And he did. Brendon was now occupied by a new goal, one he usually achieved- working Ryan up beyond settling down again, using his constant upper hand to make his husband (someone that should probably be used to it all by now) weak because Brendon was kind of evil and apparently enjoyed being the root of all of Ryan’s sexual frustration and confusion, all the way from Ilvermorny to now, when they’d known eachother over half their lives and been in a relationship for the majority of that time. He knew exactly how to do it, to get him flustered, so Brendon wasted no time and brought Ryan in while leaning up to speak closer to his ear. He was, when he wanted to be, a very colourful speaker, and in this instance, his attention to detail was evidently what was making Ryan go pale. When he moved back, he almost leaned in to kiss him. Almost. Brendon was displaying enormous amounts of willpower considering it was what he had been yearning for all day.

Brendon moved back as Ryan’s hands dropped away, and he finally lost his pants, all the while executing the second part of his plan and turning Ryan’s offer away now that he was clearly more inclined to agree than usual. You’re dead to me. He grinned, stepping out of his trouser legs and stepping a little closer again as Ryan looked skywards and threw his arms out in exasperation. ”I’m sure you can wait for like, twenty minutes.” Brendon’s eyebrows rose, but he was smirking. All right. What? Ryan was supposed to argue, to be a little more enthusiastic than just resigning to his alleged fate. Brendon looking a little caught off guard. What were you saying about 'a new roommate' earlier... I might go see if Spencer's open to me hanging around. Eyes widening, he quickly shook his head, following Ryan to the door and reaching behind him to hold on to the handle tightly. He wasn’t very strong, and kind of small, so if Ryan wanted to leave, he would be able to- but hopefully the gesture was strong enough.

”I was joking,” He exclaimed, moving close again. ”Stay.” His voice was a little rougher, now, like he had more to say. Brendon was unwilling to pass up what had been offered to him, and hung on to Ryan’s shirt, before kind of manoeuvring around so his back was facing the door and Ryan was facing him. Using a free hand he locked it, then came to rest leaning against it, head tilted up slightly and lips parted because he wanted Ryan to take a hint for once in his life. ”C’mon, I’ll make it worth it.”

a therapeutic chain of events || b&r

When Brendon thought back to his teenage self, he lamented that younger Brendon hadn’t known his first drink would lead to something as desolate and hopeless as this. It made him a little more positive about his life as a whole- that maybe it was all an accident, he was just hit by a lot of bad luck, bad timing and bad things. That it wasn’t his fault, that it wasn’t a chain of events he had set off himself and made no effort to stop. Sure, he’d tried to quit in the past, but his heart had never truly been in it. On the flip side, he wondered that if he could go back in time and tell his younger self everything that happened to him in the future and why, would his younger self make any effort to change? Would be brush it off? Would he see it as the inevitable anyway, and by trying to prevent it, it would only usher it on faster? After all, he’d still suffer that dumb teenage heartbreak that was so much more than that, but maybe instead of dealing with it like he did, he’d... Move on, or something. But then when Ryan went to Hogwarts, maybe they wouldn’t get back together. Maybe Brendon would have stayed with Andor. Maybe they’d live separate, different, long lives.

Brendon didn’t want that. He always just wanted Ryan, and maybe it was selfish to not really mind having taken this route anymore. Death only ever really hurt those it left behind, in the end, and that was what was really (metaphorically) killing him. That Ryan would remain by himself- and he knew what went on in his husband’s head, because Brendon wasn’t stupid. He was worried about him. Aside from that, there was the obvious fear of nothingness, fear of everything ceasing, fear of an existence- or no existence at all- without Ryan. But not only that, he’d miss colour, he’d miss taste, he’d miss sound and music and people screaming his name, he’d miss his dogs who wouldn’t understand why he never came home again, he’d miss his friends who would go on without him, even, deep down, his stupid parents, who, if they were here, would probably be trying to convince him to repent his homosexuality in order to go to Heaven. God, he hated them- god, he’d never get a chance to repair the relationship like Ryan always begged him to do, he’d never get to see all his nieces and nephews that had done nothing wrong and would be raised just like he had, to be bigoted. All the things he’d taken for granted and all the things he’d not done. Brendon was drowning and it was easy to see to anybody who saw him.

Maybe he was thinking pessimistically, but Brendon had tried his hardest to be as cheerful as usual, like everything was normal, which was hard for a dead man walking, but nobody pulled it off better than him. He was jaundiced and thin and sickly, but- he was still Brendon, you could see it in his eyes and even his smile, though it was considerably rarer nowadays. This instance probably wasn’t one for jokes, but the concept of having 30 days, give or take, left alive, was almost surreal. He’d known it was inevitable- the doctors had made it clear to him it was terminal, along with the fact that he felt himself dying- and it was as awful as it sounded. He was weaker, he felt his bones sharp against the hospital bed, he sometimes wondered what was the point, why didn’t he just go now and save Ryan the hospital bills and the time. But- there was his reason. Sat by his bed. He’d hang on as long as possible if it meant seeing Ryan for the majority of his remaining life.

Ryan seemed in relatively good spirits, but he had to break the news, which would quickly put an end to that. He did it quickly, joking awkwardly along as he did, trying to laugh or he’d cry and he knew it. Ryan might have taken it even worse, by the look on his face- Brendon quickly took his husband’s hand, holding as tightly as he could muster the strength to. He saw Ryan kind of curl in on himself and rest his head on their joined hands, and had no idea what to say to make it better. Strangely enough, he felt like he was supposed to be comforting Ryan here, not the other way around. Brendon thought quickly, and when he spoke, tried to keep his voice controlled. Moments later Ryan was climbing carefully in beside him, careful not to touch any equipment or monitors around the bed or plugged in or attached to Brendon at some point. He felt an instant sense of comfort and closed his eyes, letting Ryan move his fingers through his hair and tuning out from his laboured, shaky breathing.

I don’t... He sounded like he was on the verge of tears and Brendon’s chest grew tight, but he didn’t say anything. I don’t know how we’re supposed to fit forever into a month. Brendon silently mourned the time that had been taken away from not just him, but them. It wasn’t fair. ”We...” Brendon almost turned his head, but didn’t, instead just stroked a thumb over Ryan’s wrist gently. ”We never had forever anyway.” It was true. Long life had never been guaranteed for them, but... They had expected it. Despite everything. Despite Brendon having considerable reason to expect that he wouldn’t live to a ripe old age anyway, they’d taken for granted they would have eachother and life until they were old and ready. He regretted not treating every day like his last when there wasn’t a much higher possibility that every day really could be his final.

Brendon kind of knew that Ryan was crying now and he couldn’t look, he just listened and stared at the ceiling. Are you scared? Good question. In truth, Brendon was terrified. He was in considerable frequent pain anyway, but he hadn’t asked whether that would increase towards the end of his life- he hadn’t thought about afterwards enough to be at peace with going there- he hadn’t finished his life, hadn’t done nearly enough to go this young. So, in short, he was petrified, and helpless, and time didn’t wait for him. He knew that every day would be monumentally frightening, everything would be overwhelming in a week, and those 30 or so days would feel like a blink. Suddenly, he could barely breathe, and he squeezed his eyes shut. ”Y- Yeah, I am.”

Cause- you don't need to be. I'll be here, always Brendon knew that. He smiled despite himself. ”I know. It’d be you or Joey, and Joey would bring Wade and Wade would complain about hospitals.” Brendon went off on a tangent to kind of distract himself, but his throat was still tight. Joey. He missed Joey. I mean, unless I start to get annoying. Then just tell me to screw off. Laughing slightly, he raised an eyebrow, reaching his free hand up to his own hair to push it back. ”If I start to get annoying just turn everything off.” He gestures to the IV and the monitors, and was very aware it was a distasteful joke. But, again- it was laughing or crying. Brendon was teetering.

seated and sweating || b&r

Though Brendon knew and was perfectly fine with the fact that he was in love with Ryan and always had been, he wasn’t exactly ready to fully combine their lives again- even if their inner circles had once been one, and had just split and grew when they had broken apart, just acting like nothing had ever happened wouldn’t go down well with anyone. Brendon dreaded to think how Spencer would react, but he wasn’t sure why; Spencer and Ryan had been best friends since childhood, then Brendon came along and kind of usurped the title from him, taking Spencer away upon the breakup. Knowing Spencer, he’d try and make it as easy as possible and he and Ryan would click again almost instantly. Though that was kind of what Brendon was afraid of- bringing people back together, and then there being on the horizon a chance that Brendon would freak out again and call it all off, or it just wouldn’t work out. Friendships would sever again inevitably and Brendon would feel at fault. He didn’t like having it all on his conscience.

That said, he wasn’t sure now whether he could bear spending much time away from Ryan again, because they seemed kind of one entity- both literally and physically, they were so close together. Brendon’s thoughts were occupied by all manner of things but all linked back to Ryan- one of those trains of thought being which bedrooms in Gabe’s house were least likely to be used and furthest away from other people. But then he realised that maybe it wouldn’t be a good idea- they’d fall asleep and Gabe would find them in the morning (they kind of had a sixth sense for drama and turning up at the worst times for other people), and that would be kind of embarrassing for future slightly hungover them- even Brendon, who sometimes appeared to be practically shameless.

No matter how he came across, the belief that he was beyond embarrassment was entirely false, because when Ryan decidedly went down the route of leaving a bruise high on his neck he had tensed for a moment and considering asking him to stop. With that, he’d have no chance of explaining his absence to his bandmates, unless he dodged around the question of his company after he ditched Spencer and Dallon. His head immediately went to Gabe, but Spencer and Dallon weren’t stupid. They knew Brendon, he didn’t move on from things that quickly, and even if he did, he wouldn’t go about it like that. Brendon was effectively doomed to interrogation and then mockery. Fun. After several milliseconds of doubt he silenced his thoughts, though, because he knew that the mark would stay and Ryan wouldn’t be able to and this would be his reminder. Ryan finished his endeavour and turned up Brendon’s collar in a half-assed effort to hide it, and Brendon laughed a little, but he was really thinking about the familiar purple and red against the canvas of his pale, lightly freckled skin. Thought you’d see it later and think of me.

”Good thinking,” He offered, bringing a hand up to trace over it and then move his hand to curl around Ryan’s side again, ”But if you think I’m gonna need any prompting to think about you, you’re very wrong.” It was true. Ryan would be in his head perpetually after so long of forcing himself to forget how he kissed, the sound of his voice when he was sleepy, the colour of his eyes when the light levels were just right, how his hair went curly when it grew long enough, his presence beside Brendon in bed, his laugh, the smile he so often tried to hide. God, he was weak. I love you. He was close to replying with ‘I know’ like some Star Wars nerd, but he was captivated anyway and couldn’t actually words or even sentences. He just let Ryan kiss him until he regained the ability.

I know what you mean. Oh, good. Wasn’t just him. And you just keep givon my me reasons to love you more. Brendon laughed softly, raising a playfully questioning eyebrow and pressing a kiss against his jaw. ”Like what, baby?” Not allowing a reply, moments later they were melting into a kiss again, eyelids falling shut easily as he held himself as close as was possible, then when oxygen was unfortunately required, he chased him in vain, hands tight at Ryan’s hips. I could listen forever. Doubtful, But a sweet sentiment. I love you so much. Brendon smiled, feeling a hand drop to join Ryan’s other one down at the small of his back. ”Aw, you’re all flushed. Is it hot in here, or is it just me?” He grinned, nudging his foot with his own as if to edge him on to get the joke.

I don't know how we survived. Actually - I think I died and you brought me back to life tonight. Brendon leaned up again to the side of Ryan’s neck and found his pulse, pressing his lips against it and feeling it thrum with decent speed. ”You’re definitely alive now. Sound like you’ve sprinted somewhere, though. That my doing?”