Neve

catch me like a cold

Brendon would have never in a million years pinned Ryan as being possessive in anyway. He tried not to care or notice, but he was unfortunately around his guitarist and several of his admittedly long string of girlfriends enough to know that, in a typical relationship, Ryan didn’t have a possessive bone in his body, he was relatively relaxed about it. Brendon often thought back to their conversation on the night of Ryan’s birthday party- how Keltie looked at him more like a rare caged bird than a human, and how the awe that she and other girlfriends regarded him with made him feel better about himself. Brendon, on the other hand, saw him for what he was- when he’d hated Ryan the entire time he’d known him, it was hard to look at him through the rose-coloured glasses that everyone else seemed to. He was childish, selfish, insecure and yet somehow had an ego more than capable of being bruised, and he was spiteful, having been the one who had started this whole mutual hatred thing in the first place. Ryan was human, not some fascinating zoo animal, and maybe because Ryan knew that Brendon wasn’t completely smitten with him was why he was so possessive and intense.

Ryan thought he didn’t notice- he did. But it wasn’t like he really minded. The bruises pressed and bitten across his collarbones, neck and throat could be covered with makeup- luckily they always had it on hand for shows- and as for Ryan leering at anyone who even dared look Brendon’s way, clearly interested, Brendon shrugged that off, to. For the better part of a month, he’d been fine with their- unspoken arrangement, whatever. Everything was the same- they still argued viciously, albeit a little less; they just had another way of resolving any issues that arose. He had no desire or intention to be with anyone else in that way. What he and Ryan had going on- he liked to put it down to convenient opportunism, paired with the fact that they were both tragically atttacted to eachother and had been pretty much since they met, even considering the immediate conflict that arose between them. Two relationships existed in parallel- the dominant one, fuelled by mutual hatred, and then a subtextual one they’d only managed to address a month ago, with the failing of Ryan’s relationship with Keltie. Brendon wondered whether Ryan regretted it, wished he’d tried to make it work with Keltie- then he decided he didn’t care.

Eventually, though, he stopped being so readily available, started actively dodging and rejecting any passes that Ryan made at him, at first pretending he didn’t notice and later straight-up denying any propositions Ryan offered his way. It was amusing, really- he tried so hard to seem above it all, shrug it off like it was Brendon’s loss, and yet he tended to disappear more often, sulking somewhere Brendon couldn’t see. He couldn’t see, but he knew. And Ryan couldn’t stay out forever- Brendon, Spencer and Jon would be chilling on the bus and Ryan would walk on, Brendon would look innocently his way as Ryan avoided looking at him, Jon would invite Ryan to hang with them but he’d manage out a sullen ‘okay’ and sit at the edge of the couch as far away from Brendon as possible. Other days, he’d reject the invite entirely and retreat to his bunk at, like, eight pm. Brendon tried desperately not to laugh. The inner arch enemy in him found satisfaction in keeping him hanging like that, clearly bothered and too proud to admit it. At this point, too, he had met someone else one night that the three of them (Ryan naturally not included) had gone out, this guitarist called Ian, and Brendon had been talking about him loudly when they got back to the bus, hoping Ryan was still awake to heat him gush about some other guy.

Soon, though, if was less about making Ryan jealous, more that he actually liked this Ian guy, they hit it off really well, Ian didn’t instantly hate his guts. They weren’t official yet, per say, since it had been such a brief time, but Brendon felt strongly enough to want to bring him back to the tour bus to kind of solidify his presence among them for the time being. They’d picked a bad time, though, apparently, and the bus was empty. Brendon paused in the doorway, and then suggested to Ian that they stay anyway, wait for them to get back. Fast forward again, and they were passing the time as well as the situation allowed. Brendon kind of forgot about Ryan, and the fact that maybe he wouldn’t have gone out with Spencer and Jon, he’d instead be sulking at some cafe and stealing their wifi for as much time as possible before he had to go back. Brendon had no idea what the time was when he heard the tour bus door open, but he registered immediately that it definitely wasn’t going to be Spencer or Jon, it couldn’t be that late and they usually didn’t come back til early morning. The driver had probably gone too, so- it was Ryan. Sighing inwardly, he half-shifted off Ian’s lap and turned, meeting his eyes, a little alarmed even though he knew it was going to be Ryan standing there.

He did not look happy. Brendon bit his lip to hold back a smirk, and to stop himself saying something unwise. Yeah, you fucking can. Brendon sucked in a breath, a little taken aback by his immediate aggression, and he shifted fully off Ian to sit beside him, one arm wrapped around the back of the couch, hand resting on Ian’s far shoulder, and the other raising to absently stroke through his own hair. ”Calm down, Princess,” He said, mock-soothingly, retracting both his arms to fold loosely across his chest, all relaxed and innocent. He did tense a little when Ryan stepped forwards, kind of apprehensive of how exactly Ryan’s anger would unfold, but quickly relaxed again, keeping an eye on where his hands were buried in his pockets. He glanced at Ian quickly- Ian, who looked incredibly confused and wary, having shifted and moved quickly to fix his disheveled appearance. Ian turned his head and met Brendon’s gaze. Brendon offered him a relaxed shrug, as if to say, it’s okay. I’ll handle this, it’s fine. He’d mentioned Ryan before, but he felt obliged to do introductions- he opened his mouth, but Ryan interrupted before he could speak.

Who is this? Funny he should ask. Brendon cleared his throat. ”Ryan, this is Ian. Ian- this is Ryan.” Reminiscent of Brendon’s first meeting with Keltie. Brendon caught Ryan’s eye, hoped he got the reference. Ian seemed to recognise Brendon’s tone of voice and looked at Ryan, openly judgemental, and with recognition. Brendon stood up and took a step closer to Ryan, challenging. He saw Ian stand up too in his peripheral, a pressing his shoulder against Brendon’s from just behind him. It's generally agreed upon that we being our cheap fucks to hotels. It's just more considerate that way, yeah? Offering only a shrug, Brendon turned his head to look at Ian, who had wrapped an arm around his waist innocently. ”Who said anything about cheap?” He remarked, quirking an eyebrow at Ryan and flashing him a grin. This only earned him Ryan stepping closer again, this time directing veiled threats in Ian’s direction. Feel free to get the hell out. Brendon, we need to talk.

Feeling Ian’s grip loosen at his waist, Brendon clicked his tongue, wondering whether he really wanted to have to deal with Ryan being all pissy at him by himself- but what he did know was that their night was ruined anyway, and he didn’t want Ian to be dragged into their messy feud. B, I’ll leave, if- Brendon looked from Ryan to Ian and then back to Ryan, and then he nodded reluctantly. ”Okay, babe, call me.” He said finally, turning his back smartly towards Ryan as he leaned up to kiss Ian, finding and squeezing his hand apologetically before he stepped back and regarded Ryan, exasperated and apprehensive. Great, now he’d have to deal with this jealous idiot by himself. Ian weaved cautiously past Ryan, not saying a word, and both of them were silent until the door shut on Ian’s way out. Brendon dragged his hands through his messy hair before he stepped back, lifted the hem of his shirt up to wipe his face and then folded his arms across his chest, defensive. ”What’s your fuckin’ problem, huh? Can’t stand missing out?”

i sit around and want you

The initial moment where he had seen Ryan illuminated in purple on the stage had drugged Brendon with a confusing cocktail of emotions, recognition and heartache, shock and resounding fondness that apparently never went away. Maybe it’s because Ryan left him high and dry, no time to recondition themselves from romantic to platonic and repair their (needlessly, in Brendon’s opinion) fractured relationship. Ryan had just disappeared from his life leaving no sign he was ever there in the first place except the shattered state of Brendon’s heart and that damn engagement ring that he loathed with a passion but couldn’t bring himself to get rid of, so he kept it shoved and hidden at the bottom of a drawer and tried to keep it out of sight, out of mind and out of his heart. Now, when he set eyes on this apparently upgraded Ryan for the first time in a decade, his heart still fluttered like it did when he looked upon a lover, his chest tightened and his features, though initially the picture of surprise, softened for a few moments right until Ryan looked his way and suddenly he was out of the brief moments where he could pretend that ten years hadn’t passed, they were still engaged, Brendon was just watching his fiancé perform on stage.

Ryan looked at him, and that desperately hopeful mirage had fallen away to ashes, leaving Brendon winded, looking at the man who had broken his heart and never even seemed to care that much when he did. It was like the moment before a tsunami- the waves drew back and all Brendon saw was the sand, the long beach of affection and love they had once shown eachother. It blindsided him. Then, though, all the anguish and shock and grief of their sudden and unprecedented breakup swept him up in a crushing wave and he barely knew what to do with himself, struggling to breathe as the full force of the emotions he felt ten years ago when Ryan almost nonchalantly told him that their engagement was off hit him with just as much power, like it was yesterday. Brendon felt sick, and as well as that he felt anxious when he realised he was being slowly recognised in a ripple of murmurs amongst the modest crowd, and his throat started to close up. He was moments away from bolting, but Jon’s steadfast presence beside him as well as how frozen he felt by Ryan’s gaze on him kept him in place, struggling to regulate his breathing and hearing his own pulse thumping. He’d just wait until this song was over, and then during the applause he could sneak out, maybe curse Jon out for leaving out a very important detail about this evening and never accept his invite anywhere ever again.

The song ended, though, a love song written by Ryan that wasn’t about him that made Brendon feel sick to his stomach and completely undesirable, and the man himself was walking through the crowd heading right towards him. Huh. This was his worst nightmare come alive. Brendon closed his eyes, counted to ten in his head and told himself it wasn’t a big deal, it’s been ten years, get over yourself, why are you intimidated by this guy. You’re successful, you’re talented, you’re Brendon. Stop freaking out. He’s just an old friend. Brendon opened his eyes and Ryan was before him, and his first thought, of-Fucking-course, was that he was somehow prettier, the years had done him well, matured him, goddamn what a couple they’d be if they were still together. They’d have been married for ten years by now. Brendon clenched his jaw, after being initially relaxed by the familiar face. Except it wasn’t familiar. The eye contact Ryan made was surprising- he’d never been one for any kind of social situational confidence- and Brendon felt like he should be looking away, but he forced himself to keep his gaze fixed on him, relaxing his shoulders and taking his time to drink in exactly what kind of man Ryan was now. How he presented himself. It was all different. Brendon shoved his hands into his pockets to hide the fact they were trembling slightly, concealing that this was really too much for him.

And yet, he agreed, like a dumbass, to go backstage with him, and he couldn’t even think of a logical reason why he said yes. He thought about withdrawing his acceptance hastily, saving himself from some sort of panic attack. Great, just... Well, too late now- and Jon was gone, so he couldn’t plead silently with him to make him up an excuse on the spot. Brendon just nodded curtly, looked towards where Ryan had come from, backstage, and almost jumped a mile when he felt a hand on his shoulder, a hand he knew was Ryan’s but wasn’t willing to look for himself to confirm. Brendon felt bitter, stiffened at his touch though his body was willing him to relax because of how familiar it was and what the connotations were. He was still tuned into devoted fiancé mode, and he tried stubbornly to suppress it. Instead of, like, jerking away, he let Ryan guide him, unsure he’d be able to walk himself without doubling back and bolting before Ryan even noticed. Looks like a lot of your fans are here tonight, huh? Brendon blinked, looked around, barely listening, smiling distractedly to appease the people he assumed were the fans Ryan was talking about and internally wincing whenever he heard a camera or saw the flash. He’d never get away from this. He didn’t- couldn’t- have the kind of secluded life that Ryan did. I guess that’s probably the norm by now, though.

”Yes, I’m very successful, let’s all blow steam up my ass,” He muttered dryly, mostly to himself, hoping Ryan didn’t, like, hear that. He was proud of how far he’d come, and here was Ryan, a reminder that it all started with four of them and now he was alone. It hadn’t bothered him, but there he was trying to forget the past, and here was Ryan, hand on his goddamn shoulder, ready to ruin it all. They were backstage, finally, and Brendon took a step back from him, dragging his hands through his hair and down his face, nervously chewing on his lip for a moment before he told himself yet again that he needed to get a grip. Brendon tilted his chin up slightly and met Ryan’s eyes with some newfound, mostly fabricated confidence, attempting a fake-it-til-you-make-it type tactic. It seemed to work, but most of that bravado was borne of bitterness. How have you been, anyway? Brendon crossed his arms loosely across his chest, subconsciously defensive. ”Really great, actually. New album an’ shit, going on tour next month.” He wondered if Ryan had listened to any of it.

You look so different. Like someone else. And how the fuck would he even know? Lots of people told him he didn’t look the same. But those people had known him maybe a couple of years. They had no idea the kind of change that Brendon had made from his youth to adulthood. Maybe he had changed a lot recently, but when he looked in the mirror, sometimes he saw the same anxious, hyperactive kid that was in same band he was in ten years ago, except now he was alone. His mind drifted momentarily to his last relationship, the shadow over this new album release, an album with songs dedicated to that person. Brendon sucked in a breath. ”A decade does that to a person.” He said finally, not concealing the dryness of his tone, shrugging his shoulders. ”You look different too. How’ve you been?”

catch me like a cold

It had been little over a month since Brendon and Ryan had mutually, albeit drunkenly, broke the metaphorical ice about the intensity between them that had they never directly addressed or dicussed. The evening had started with a melancholy, confused Ryan, struggling with the remnants of a critically failing relationship, staggering into Brendon’s hotel room in Seattle after flying from NYC from his own birthday party. Somehow, from Brendon’s own living nightmare, they ended up kissing, then they were on the bed, still kissing, and Ryan confessed all of this shit that Brendon definitely wasn’t planning on using against him at a later date. Then, somehow, they had slept together (Brendon had liked to pretend he didn’t remember in the days afterwards, even though he limped everywhere for days afterwards, winded when he sat down, and looked away, flushing furiously when Ryan smirked at him and tried so desperately not laugh). Brendon intended it to be a one-time thing- at first, he hadn’t intended for it to be a thing at all- but, after Ryan found the guts to officially break up with Keltie, they were both single and both on the same page. So one time turned into two, then three, then four, and so on. They went at it like- for lack of a better phrase- rabbits. Well, it couldn’t exactly be described as making love.

They were friends, no, enemies with benefits, or whatever, and surprisingly, it worked out pretty well. Now, to defuse the situation after an argument and preventing themselves from throttling eachother, they beelined for the most simple and enjoyable solution they knew of. They argued noticeably less, and Jon and Spencer noticed that, but they had absolutely no idea why. And Brendon and Ryan had an unspoken oath to never tell anybody, especially not those two. That would ruin everything, the whole setup they had going on. Spencer would disapprove and look disappointed but not angry, Jon would clearly be surprised but probably wouldn’t have much to say other than maybe, ‘it’s better than them trying to kill eachother’. And then it would all be really awkward, and shake up the whole dynamic, and none of them wanted that. They’d become comfortable with a familiar routine- arguments between the frontman and the guitarist, tense and temporary truces between the frontman and the guitarist, pretending to get along on camera and on stage. It had worked so far- why fix something that wasn’t even broken? Oh, and, they hadn’t really tried to become friends, or tolerate eachother on any personal level. Both of them had he fleeting idea of what it would be like- but individually decided it was impossible. That was fine. Brendon couldn’t mourn a friendship that never existed.

It had only barely been a month, and Brendon came to notice quickly that Ryan was surprisingly possessive. It had originally been Ryan using scarves to hide his hickeys, but now, Brendon had to cover his neck in makeup to try and conceal the marks that Ryan had intentionally left too high to cover with anything else. And no way in hell was he using a scarf. It was great, really, but everything was becoming a little too real for Brendon, who was worried the next step was being exclusive or something, or even attempting some kind of friendship. They weren’t technically exclusive, neither of them had brought it up or even really thought about it, but neither of them ever saw someone else, be it from lack of opportunity or lack of desire to do so. They fell into a semi-comfortable routine very quickly, and everything was great apart from the fact that Brendon was bruised, stiff, and aching all the time. On stage, he struggled between not visibly wincing and trying to use up as much energy as possibly, feeding off the adrenaline. Ryan noticed, of course he did, he sent him glances across the stage and Brendon could barely look at him. It was all so messy, they were so obvious, what were they doing?

Brendon didn’t have any regrets about the whole thing, but he was scared it was all starting to become much too real for him to be comfortable with it all- because it was Ryan. What if they both got too attached in an unhealthy relationship based on equally strong amounts of hatred and wanton attraction? That wouldn’t work. So, in an effort to evade that happening, Brendon decided he was going to take Ryan’s advice from forever ago and start actually dating. He didn’t say anything to Ryan, obviously. It would not go down well. So, he started rejecting Ryan’s offers to hang out or whatever excuse he had this time, and went out, met people, specifically this one guy Ian who was cute, tall, curly brown hair... fuck. Oh well. They hit it off well, and, after no time at all, they were ‘boyfriends’. He used the term lightly. They were the same as Brendon and Ryan had been, except they actually enjoyed eachothers company when they weren’t undressed or intending to undress. Neither of them had told anyone, Brendon didn’t feel the need to- the guys would just all meet Ian, Brendon would say ‘hey, this is my boyfriend’, Jon and Spencer would greet him graciously, Ryan would- huh. What would ryan do?

He hadn’t spoken to Ryan about Ian even existing. But he’d started actively rejecting every advance with lame excuses. Luckily, Ryan was out a lot, and one evening Brendon decided to take Ian on board the tour bus to introduce him, all casual-like. Lucky them, nobody was on the bus, they settled on the couch and Brendon, ever the romantic, moved after mere minutes into Ian’s lap and wrapped his arms around his shoulders, kissing him lazily and carelessly because he kind of forgot they were in the main area of a bus shared between four guys. Well, Brendon didn’t forget. He just didn’t care. ”Baby, I don’t know if we have time for this,” He murmured into his ear, and just as he spoke, he heard the door open and internally groaned. They should goddamn knock. Maybe invent a system. Brendon punctuated it by giving Ian a firm kiss before turning his head around, breath immediately hitching. Fuck. Well. At least Brendon didn’t have to tell Ryan anything. ”Oh, hey, buddy,” He grinned, shifting half-out of a very confused Ian’s lap but not fully committing, half expecting Ryan to leave. ”B, maybe you should-“ ”Can we help you?”

if you're going, then go || b&r

Brendon’s current situation, being one where he was sat on Ryan’s lap on his hotel room bed and one where he had just broken apart from kissing him, might be misleading in that it might seem Brendon didn’t still absolutely hate Ryan’s guts. He still did. He was intolerable, and arrogant, and childish, and- he was so, so, pretty, and he was a good kisser, and Brendon liked the feeling of his hands tangling in his hair and holding onto his hip. He still wasn’t fond of him, per say- but he wasn’t thinking about that right now, he was thinking about how he felt a strong desire to be close to him, closer than this, and how he wanted Ryan wearing less clothes and he wanted to kiss him until they were both breathless. In that kind of situation, there was definitely room for aggression and bad blood- they’d proven that with everything they’d done so far, ripped hard at eachother’s hair, bit down hard on eachother’s lips, both unwilling to relax because they had been so high-strung and petty and the apprehension for this had been building for years. It felt like they had one night to get all of that in the air so they could forget about it and move on, back to the familiar pattern of hating eachother’s guts in comfortable way everyone understood. That wasn’t complicated. They could handle that, they had for a long time.

The magnetic pull Brendon felt towards Ryan was familiar, but not welcome. Extremely welcome but unfamiliar was this so entire evening so far, but they’d gone too far now to ever go back, and once the outburst and surface negative emotions had been drained away, energy fuelling passion, they were left with an odd, uncomfortable feeling, like they were both more vulnerable, Ryan having just admitted everything Brendon wanted him to and yet Brendon didn’t feel fully satisfied. He doubted he ever would. That being said, he still felt some kind of triumph, like he had the upper hand by such a margin that Ryan could never hope to regain it, not tonight, not ever. Intending to keep that imbalance in the power dynamic in place, Brendon shifted in Ryan’s lap, clearly very comfortable, and asked him outright what he thought about when he said that this kind of situation between them had ‘crossed his mind a lot’. To be honest, he wasn’t expecting much- some kind of backhanded comment that swept everything he’d said before aside, a dismissal. But Ryan met his eyes and Brendon stared back, intensely curious, apprehensive. His eyes were dark and he kept his eyes trained on him as he glanced down from their eye contact to focus on his chest. Maybe that would jog his memory. Brendon didn’t even bother biting back his smirk.

Scratches down my back, you on your knees- you know, the works. The works. A rush of air left Brendon and he didn’t look away, just searched out his gaze and locked eyes with him again, only closing them briefly to allow his imagination to take the reins for a few moments. ”What a pretty picture,” Brendon teased after a moment, letting his jaw hang open slightly and his lips remain parted. All of his muscles felt taught and apprehensive, and though this was just surface level, he felt hot and bothered and though he’d been shirtless basically the entire time he’d been in this hotel room, he felt like he needed to lose some more layers. His skin, if he had to- scratches down Ryan’s back. The implications there were clear and Brendon couldn’t stop replaying his words in his head, wondering what the hell had happened between Ryan arriving and now to get them to this point. He replayed it in his head, dumbfounded, still not fully understanding. ”You know,” He said suddenly, surprised by the lowness of his own voice, ”That’s pretty vague. And that’s okay. I’m a visual learner.”

He wasn’t mad that it took Ryan being wasted and basically newly single to admit that he was even a little bit attracted to him. Always before, he’d been criticised for being too done-up with his hair, too narrow, too small, Ryan had mocked the formation of his sternum, or something, but Brendon couldn’t be mad because now Ryan’s hands had now travelled everywhere his skin was exposed and he could never go back to pretending he didn’t find him breathtakingly attractive. That was another victory. You’re stupidly gorgeous. Gorgeous? That was a strong word, perhaps too strong for them. Brendon still appreciated his ego being stroked, though, so he smiled. ”Thank you, darling.” A mockery of what they could be if the blood between them wasn’t so toxic and seemingly irreversibly fucked up, Brendon made a show of leaning in to kiss the corner of his mouth. He felt a fleeting moment of wistfulness as he pulled back, but it passed as quickly as it appeared. It’s not like I have to admit something obvious. ”You know what, you’re right. Your thirsty ass is always very happy to see me whenever I’m shirtless on the tour bus.” Ryan wasn’t subtle, but it wasn’t always his fault. Brendon held in a laugh.

He thought he was having a winning streak of holding onto the upper hand, but when Ryan decided to straight up tell him that he was the most obvious bottom ever to exist, he felt like he’d been knocked down a few rungs on the ladder, no, kicked off the ladder completely. Shoving his head to hide his embrassment in Ryan’s shoulder, he cringed at himself, how obnoxious he must be about it. He didn’t even protest Ryan’s fingers playing in his hair. You’re sort of a princess. Brendon lifted his head up, and he was pouting, giving up before he even started on being defiant about it. What was the point? Ryan had, annoyingly, hit the nail on the head. ”And I deserve to be treated like one,” He said finally, deciding to own it. Why, would you have it any other way? That wasn’t a question anyone had asked him before, now that he thought about it. Maybe it was just so unlikely that people didn’t even bother asking. Now given time to reflect on it, he moved back in to Ryan’s neck and latched his mouth onto the skin over his pulse, one hand digging into his opposite shoulder and the other resting on Ryan’s thigh. He decided that lack of an answer was equivalent to one, and decided not to elaborate on that, just shifted again, not pulling away from his neck where he was determined to leave him bruises that he couldn’t hide.

If you’ve thought about it at all, that is. Your take is probably a lot more interesting. If only Ryan knew the half of it. He delivered one last fairly forceful bite to where he’d left a bruise, merciless, and then he pulled back and moved both his arms to drape over Ryan’s shoulders, pushing them both closer to the headboard, Ryan’s back and head pressed fully against it. Brendon rested their foreheads together, strangely intimate, but it was mostly so Ryan couldn’t look away. ”I think I’ve thought about it more than you’ve actually done it with Keltie,” He grinned for a moment, giggling, but it faded fast when he remembered what Ryan had said before. Scratches down his back. He wondered what Ryan wanted to hear and decided he didn’t care. ”I want to be feeling it for days afterwards.” His voice was so low and quiet it started to break between words. ”I quite like the position we’re in right now.”

in the sickness of you ;; b&r

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a therapeutic chain of events || b&r

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if we go on || b&r

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if you're going, then go || b&r

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if you're going, then go || b&r

It was easy to think of hollow, outwardly barbed comments to make when he was so used to having an arsenal of insults ready for Ryan at all times, but now, when he said them, his heart wasn’t in it. In the past, when they had explosive arguments, the only way they’d calm down was to separate and get as far away from eachother as possible- now, when they’d crashed and collided in such a way that Brendon had initially thought this would just escalate the tension and anger, all of that bursting emotion seemed to be seeping away. It wasn’t like they were suddenly friends, suddenly on good terms- but both of them lost the will to pretend they hadn’t wanted this from the beginning, slowing down their kisses until Brendon pulled back, now demanding answers and not entirely satisfied with the ones that Ryan offered him. He didn’t believe for a second that, if it were up to Ryan, he would have been invited to his stupid birthday party- and though, yeah, Ryan had come here of all places from across the country, but it took him being drunk and depressed about his sort-of ex girlfriend. That, as much as he loathed to admit, hit a weak spot- that he might kid himself that Ryan was obsessed with him, but it took a lot of obvious prompting to get Ryan to this point. And now they were boneless on opposite sides of the bed, legs drawn in, almost pushed apart by some invisible force.

The fact Ryan didn’t comment when Brendon accused him of spouting bullshit about inviting him and wanting him at the party confirmed his suspicions that Ryan was just saying what he thought Brendon wanted to hear, but he couldn’t bring himself to be mad, he wasn’t even surprised. It would be difficult to just turn up at a celebration entirely for his nemesis. Nobody would believe for a second that they solved years of bad blood and toxicity and conflict just in miraculous time for Ryan’s shitty birthday. Brendon imagined a scenario as he tilted his head to the ceiling to process everything where he had been invited, he had turned up, how would that go? He wouldn’t even know what to get him for his birthday that he wouldn’t scoff at. Jon wasn’t even there, so that sucked. Spencer was, but he couldn’t just bother Spencer all night. Luckily, Brendon was something of a social butterfly to a certain extent (definitely more of an extent than Ryan), so he figured that even if he didn’t know many people, he’d fit in and calm down pretty quickly. He’d be able to ignore the loud, obnoxiously obvious whispers and comments about him, wondering why he was there, who invited him, had he and Ryan even spoken for a moment. Thinking about it, he came full circle, and he was again glad he hadn’t been invited by Keltie.

Keltie. Keltie had cockblocked him. Indirectly, but still, it sucked to be regaining his breath at the end of a slightly uncomfortable hotel bed when Ryan was leaning back against the headboard at the other end. He considered their situation for a moment, wondered what the time was, and rubbed his hands over his eyes, catching his bottom lip between his teeth and looking back at the ceiling to purse his lips. He could just- he could just accept the victory and ask Ryan to leave, awarding Brendon the hypothetical higher ground and more ammunition to hold over his heads he could do that. Didn’t mean he wanted to. Another course of action would be to just resume what they’d started, albeit with less outward hatred and fire, and honestly Brendon had picked that before he even thought about the first option. He looked back at Ryan and met his eyes for a moment before he shifted forwards with purpose, settling after getting easily comfortable in Ryan’s lap and clutching at the fabric of the front of his shirt, tilting Ryan’s head up smartly towards him. For a second, he hesitated, yet again torn between upping and leaving or not, and met his gaze.

It didn’t take another second after that for Brendon to lean down and kiss him. It wasn’t malicious, or aggressive, but it was charged, not exactly calm and comfortable but definitely having mellowed out considerably, when the alarming viciousness of their first kiss was taken into account. And that hadn’t been very long ago. Or had it? Brendon had lost track of time. He probably couldn’t go to sleep now if he wanted to. Brendon pulled back barely from the kiss and trailed over gradually to the side of his face, shivering noticeably when he felt Ryan’s hand exploring up from his chest and across to his jaw. Brendon felt crushingly apprehensive and still kind of hated Ryan for how much he affected him. Well. Oh no. When I imagined us finally sleeping together it didn’t involve a makeout session quite this long and complicated. Brendon’s stomach dropped, because, fuck, Ryan had actually imagined it? Ryan had spent time of his life thinking about that? Brendon had, of course, but to know they were both in the same boat- he exhaled, a shaky breath, and allowed himself a smirk. ”I like foreplay,” He offered, unaware he was basically a mindreader. ”And I’d like to know what you did imagine.”

But it crossed my mind a lot. This was getting better with every word that came out of Ryan’s mouth, or worse, depending on how Brendon looked at it. He decided on ‘better’. I mean. Look at you. Brendon said nothing and just met his eyes, closing them briefly when Ryan traced his thumb over the corner of his mouth. It was sore. He opened his eyes again. ”It takes a whole fuckload of alcohol and me making out with you for a good while for you to admit that you’re even attracted to me,” He breathed out in a cynical laugh, but he wasn’t really bothered. As long as he knew now. ”But, I’m flattered, an’ you’re hot.” He would have leaned in to kiss him, then, but apparently Ryan wasn’t going to shut up. What was knew? Also. Great, what now? He knew everything he needed to know. I sort of figured you’d be the bottom. Brendon immediately shoved his head into Ryan’s shoulder, actually embarassed, because was he that obvious? He sucked in a breath, half-amused, and lifted his head back up decidedly. ”How’d you figure that out?”

if you're going, then go || b&r

Brendon wasn’t somebody to lose his temper often. He was fiery, and driven, and he was no pushover, but it never seemed to get the point with him where he reached his boiling point and bubbled over in some kind of loss of control due to rage. Any emotions he experienced tended to be strong and intense, but he wasn’t ruled by them, not usually. Specific people affected him in different ways- Spencer made him feel calm and supported and appreciated, Jon provided a groundedness and an honesty that made him feel respected. Ryan, though, the fourth member of the unit and in the pecking order in Brendon’s eyes, was one of the only people who could push him over the metaphorical age, take his prevalent but contained Aries sparks and ignite them into a roaring flame. He was the only person who could cause him to snap, and he hated it- the one person he wasn’t willing to be vulnerable around, the one person he wanted to back off from him and leave him alone, and Ryan knew what particular buttons to press if he wanted to get a rise out of Brendon. It was the same vice versa, so it was something of a mutually assured destruction, but the threat of his own embarrassment and the theoretical demise of his dignity was enough to keep him hesitant, at least, in an ideal world. In reality, when Ryan started to antagonise, and he was the one more likely to, it didn’t take long for Brendon’s composure to break.

Lucky for Brendon, he seemed to have one-upped him this time, but then he’d sort of triumphed as soon as Ryan left the party and bought a plane ticket, even if he didn’t know it. His second victory was when Ryan turned up at his hotel room door, the third was when Ryan opened slightly up to him about his and Keltie’s failing relationship, the fourth was when Brendon presented the opportunity and Ryan fell for the bait and leaned in to kiss him. Hook, line, sinker- his initial intention was just to see what he’d do, pull back and be done with it but hold it over his head forever, but there they were, Brendon with his back pressed against the mattress and Ryan holding himself slightly above, holding him down on the cushions, and they were still kissing, Brendon biting relentlessly because he didn’t really want Ryan to get anything out of this, he didn’t want to get anything out of this, then it would be too real. But it was probably too late for that, now. He paused briefly at Ryan’s neck and then let himself go limp against the sheets, catching his breath.

Ryan had a hand cradling his face and Brendon wondered whether he should move it away, because now it was just quiet, a breath of calm, even though the tension was crushing. He felt Ryan’s hands still tangling in his hair, but he didn’t feel his nails, it felt gentler, almost restrained. Brendon stared up at him, eyes still dark, breathing deep to recover after he had replied to Ryan’s bullshit declaration about how ‘if you wanted to be nice, you’d have been at my stupid party’. But, really- Brendon didn’t know what Ryan wanted him to do. If he had turned up, he’d hardly know or like anybody, not even the birthday boy himself. Ryan would have snidely commented about how his presence wasn’t welcome, why wasn’t he even here, and Keltie would make some venomous remark like ‘go pine after somebody else’s boyfriend’, or ‘funny how you claim to hate him and follow him around like a puppy’. Brendon hadn’t really been particularly inclined either way about Keltie in the beginning, she was just Ryan’s girlfriend, not her fault he was in a messy situation with Brendon. But she’d joined in. Now he couldn’t stand either of them. Going to that party would have been his own personal idea of hell, aside from the fact it was themed around basically mocking the man of the hour. Besides, Jon wasn’t even there. What was up with that?

You’re real fucking bold, you know. Still with slightly parted lips, Brendon turned up his mouth at the corner into a poorly concealed half-smirk. ”At least I’m not fucking boring.” They kisses for maybe a few moments after that, and Brendon had tuned out a little, only paying attention enough that he just about heard Ryan mention Keltie as he pulled back and lifted himself up a little. Honestly, he’d been expecting this- even if he was ruffled about how they’d been, what, making out for a while now and all he could think about was the basically-ex girlfriend he had decided to officially break up with at the soonest possible opportunity. Way to kill the mood- though maybe that was safe. Something in Ryan’s energy was becoming calmer, almost neutral instead of intense anger and friction, and Brendon was alarmed, though the hatred he had started this whole thing out with had simmered into remaining intensity combined with minimal anger that was continuing to burn out. After staring at Ryan for a moment, though, waiting for him to maybe denounce Keltie and get back to what they were doing, he inwardly rolled his eyes and sighed and physically drew himself away from Ryan, who mirrored his actions by leaning against the headboard.

Brendon feigned indifference and picked at the sheets on the bed, crossing one arm loosely across his chest. Sounds like it bothered you even more than it bothered me. For once, he had nothing to say- instead he tried to gain the upper hand in the other ways he knew as he thought of a comeback, leaning back on his elbows and tilting his head to the side, skin still carrying a sheen of sweat and chest rising and falling evenly with every deep breath. Yeah. ...Oh. Brendon blinked. It wasn’t like he didn’t know, but he didn’t expect Ryan to admit it with so little prompting. I would’ve invited you. That only earned him an eye roll. ”But you didn’t. You can say whatever shit you want, but if you don’t do it, you might as well be spinning bullshit.” Their eyes met for a half-second and Brendon wondered what he was thinking. I think about you more than I’ve ever thought about her.

Brendon’s increasingly tired eyes widened, and immediately he felt wide awake, first comprehension and then a sense of triumph surging through his entire body. Still lying back, propped up on his elbows, he tilted his head back fully and grinned at the ceiling, because this was all so funny. Slowly, he sat up, this time leaning back on both of his palms that were placed behind him against the mattress. That what you were looking for? ”I never thought you’d admit it,” He mused, sitting forwards and resting his hands on his lap, searching for Ryan’s gaze. He wished he had recorded that. ”But yeah, that’s what I wanted to hear.” Well. Now he didn’t know what to do with himself. He’d hit the jackpot- Ryan would never live this down. Setting out to almost seal the deal, he moved back in and moved onto his lap before he could protest, curling a fist in his shirt again and using it to tilt Ryan’s head back so he could lean down to kiss him and trail off to speak into his ear. ”What do you think about?”