Neve

searching for a feeling

The first of the three and only songs Brendon had heard from Ryan and Jon’s new record (he knew there were other members but he had never cared enough to find out who the other guys were) was titled ‘the other girl’, and when Brendon first read the title, his stomach had turned over. Before he listened, he asked himself over and over, did he really want to know what, who this song would be about? Brendon was more than aware that Ryan tended to reliably change pronouns in songs so that real life situations seemed more like fiction. ‘The other girl’ could be Keltie- it could be Brendon- or it could be some other girl Brendon didn’t know about, maybe Ryan had been with other people since then, but that was none of his business anymore. After he wrestled with himself to make a decision, he told himself to get over it- not everything is about you, Brendon- and pressed play, sitting back and gnawing on his lip, memories of arguing with Ryan over who should sing certain parts of the song flooding back to him once he heard Ryan’s voice. It was largely unchanged and Brendon thought it was charming, sweet, somewhat unassuming. Even though he knew Ryan was capable of more powerful vocals, he figured Ryan had stuck with what he was comfortable with. Brendon listened dutifully even when certain words cut into him in terrible, specific ways, just like he’d expected.

Don't wait around for love, you're not what he's thinking of, when he's with the other girl. Brendon tortured himself over this line. It could be Ryan, singing to Brendon about himself, telling Brendon not to wait around because he loved Keltie- though, Keltie had been gone from Ryan’s life for a while, as far as Brendon knew. Another theory he played with was that he was ‘the other girl’- Ryan was singing to Keltie, confessing that he’d picked out of the two of them, but still referring to him simply as an affair that went to far. Or maybe it was Ryan singing to himself, reflecting on his feelings when he’d discovered Brendon and Ian had something going on. It was a nightmare to listen to even though the song was objectively good- Ryan and Jon had, admittedly, done a good job there. Brendon, though, bitter about it at the time, had angrily and hastily scribbled down a song of his own, passionate and spiteful, mixing up their ‘affair’ as Ryan seemed to see it, and his distaste towards Jon and Ryan’s new band. They know, I know, they don’t look like me, they don’t sound like me. He calmed himself down almost immediately afterwards, but the lyrics grew on him fast and it became a song. Hurricane. It only just made it on their final album and Brendon wondered now whether Ryan had heard it.

The next of the three songs Brendon had heard was dangerous blues, a song that compared love and drugs and almost linked them together. It was less of a love song and more of a lament about how said love could hurt. Brendon didn’t know what to think about this one, because they’d never been in love, that was never a word either of them had dared to even think about, it was just mutually and silently agreed that whatever was going on between them was far from love. It was an excellent song, though, and it was Brendon’s favourite of the three, musically at least. The final was ‘lie to the truth’ and a standout lines from that less-than-a-love-song were I know I broke your heart, mine is broken too; Now if we're even, then why are we both blue? and again, Brendon wondered whether what they had for a relatively brief period of time was more to Ryan than he had thought, meant more to Ryan that it did to Brendon. He found that hard to believe, but- they were both blue, and Brendon only realised he’d been so sad about the split this whole time now that Ryan was standing before him, tall and gorgeous and astounding.

I know I’ve finally had enough of you. After hearing that line, Brendon decided he couldn’t physically sit and listen through any more, it would be too painful and he wouldn’t be able to just enjoy the music, he’d have to dissect every line and try and link it back to their own messy relationship, or lack thereof. So, when he said he loved their new record, it wasn’t a complete lie- but the full truth was that Brendon found it agonising to listen to the three songs he’d heard and didn’t even attempt to get through any more. Sure- but give it a night, you’ll be able to tell him yourself. Shit. Jon didn’t deflect and brush off compliments like Ryan could be relied on to do. He supposed he’d have to analyse every song thoroughly by tomorrow to be able to convince Jon that he’d been a fan from the start- Jon night have been easygoing and usually the epitome of relaxed, but he wasn’t stupid and he knew Brendon well enough to know when he was lying through his teeth. Brendon smiled, but it was strained, preoccupied, because he wasn’t looking forward to subjecting himself to forty five minutes of emotional turmoil.

Yeah, I did too. Jokes on them - guess they weren't expecting us to have had a clean split. Brendon exhaled a sigh of relief that they were on the same page, but then he quirked an eyebrow hesitantly, considering his wording. ”A clean split?” He echoed, thinking sheepishly about how he’d lifted Ryan’s lyrics right from the demos of their planned album while they were all still a band and turned them on Ryan in order to mock him, and thinking about the bitterness and angst that was a common theme throughout the entire album. Maybe Ryan really was just oblivious, or maybe he hadn’t heard anything at all. Brendon couldn’t help but feel annoyed by that, hypocrite that he was. ”Is that what we’re calling it now?” Grinning, but completely serious, he shrugged a shoulder dismissively and then decided he wanted to stop dwelling on the nature and length of the split and now focus on that they were back together in the same place and they had a long time to catch up. Creative differences or not, Brendon was closer to those three guys than he was anyone else. Even Ryan. Especially Ryan, in a figurative sense and now in a physical one, because they were suddenly pressed together, Ryan’s shape and feel so familiar, and he was breathing him in, everything was heated and confusing and Brendon’s only coherent thought was Ryan’s name for a long few moments until he grounded himself.

Miming wasn't exactly what I had in mind. We've got plenty of time to make up for, may as well do everything. Breathless, but laughing anyway, Brendon’s mind filled up with a heady mix of visual and kinaesthetic memories as he pressed his palms against the line of Ryan’s jaw on either side. ”Everything, anything, make me yours,” He was saying, but it was half mumbled and he cut himself off when he leaned in for that sweet kiss, one that gave him time to set himself straight and think about the possible repercussions of his actions here. Spencer wouldn’t- oh, fuck, Spencer would not be happy, but that was admittedly at the bottom of the list of problems here, and Brendon managed to stop kissing Ryan long enough to pull back and think carefully about what could happen if they took this any further and didn’t excuse it as a mistake fuelled by post-show adrenaline. They had a chance to be friends, real friends, but- Brendon didn’t really want that. He didn’t know what he wanted, so it all befell on Ryan.

He distracted himself by working on Ryan’s buttons as he waited for a response. Just you. That could be arranged, Brendon thought, blinking serenely as he tilted his head back to meet Ryan’s eyes. I'm not saying boyfriends, I know, it doesn't work. He felt his heart sink and he couldn’t quite figure out why. I just want you. Whatever you can offer. See, I'm not picky. Brendon laughed softly, but it died quickly and he looked stonily at his own hands as they slowed to stop with his self-given task of getting Ryan out of his shirt. ”That’s fine, but- I think, that, uh, we need some ground rules.” A pause, Brendon resumed his work at a more leisurely pace, reaching the bottom and punctuating his words by unfastening the last one. ”To stop us fucking shit up again. Like- we can have our steamy second love affair but this time, only for this tour. No longer.” It felt so surreal, trying to be serious when they were both in such a state.

seal it with a kiss

Brendon, especially now and a lot more than in his youth, came across as confident, self-assured, fully comfortable with himself and able to navigate most situations, be it coping with awkward interview questions (usually about him and Ryan) or commanding the attention of a crowd of thousands so that they hung onto his every word, with relative ease. It was true, at least, that he made it look easy, but like many who had to frequent the stage and put themselves in the spotlight over and over again he suffered from anxiety and because of his naturally outgoing personality people often doubted whether that was true. Though Brendon was used to it, now, sometimes it felt like he was under a microscope as soon as he stepped into the spotlight, standing there where thousands were scrutinising him, not worshipping him as was probably more close a definition. It was a lot of pressure, and even though Brendon coped now better than ever (even with the large setback of Ryan no longer performing by his side), his nerves still often got the better of him. He was just now better at hiding it. Hand in hand with all of this came insecurity- Brendon craved attention and when somebody (Ryan) he loved didn’t shower him with constant praise, or somebody (Ryan) he prioritised was often busy with someone else, it did affect him. Again, though, he was good at hiding it.

He never said anything about Z because he knew Ryan well enough to script the two of them an entire conversation-borderline-argument about it (Brendon would complain that he felt left out, Ryan would counter with ‘we could still do this if you hadn’t kicked me out of the band in the first place’, et cetera) that just ended up with Brendon feeling worse and consequently making Ryan feel like shit, too, and he didn’t want that- so Brendon stuck with silence, quietly brewing in his own jealousy; not jealousy because of insecurity about their relationship (it was one of the only constants in Brendon’s life at this point), jealousy because Z was effectively filling his shoes, writing and playing music just for fun and not because of some label deadline or because it had been a while since he’d put something out and he needed to do something quick or the fans would lose interest. Though he had a strong work ethic and could quite easily cope with that kind of workload and schedule, he missed the times when writing was more relaxed and laid-back and they wrote songs just for themselves, for nobody else to hear. They still wrote eachother musical love-letters, still scribbled down lyrics on sticky notes and stuck them in the first place they knew that the other would look. They had less time for eachother mostly due to Brendon’s tight schedule and him being away a lot on tour, but he knew that even if they lived on other sides of the world nd could only communicate with their phones they wouldn’t lose any love for eachother.

They’d been married, now, for- Brendon couldn’t quite remember the exact amount unless he asked Ryan to make sure- a good few years, they’d been together for most of their lives, known eachother even longer, they should be past their honeymoon phase by now and everyone around them seemed to think the same, baffled that they were witnessing the same levels of adoration now as they did, say, five years back. Brendon couldn’t imagine anything else, couldn’t imagine being one of those couples that kissed just because it was muscle memory, held hands out of obligation, didn’t hate eachother but didn’t exactly worship the ground that the other walked on. Even though they were both very generous with their compliments, neither of them ever got used to it. How could Brendon, when he was married to the most talented writer he knew, who came up with new and different praise every day even if it was just in the form of little notes and the odd text- each made Brendon’s day every time when they were apart, and when they were together, nothing ever really needed to be said because there was a surety and comfort that had settled in their bones that they were still ridiculously and wholly in love with eachother and that would remain the same for as long as they lived and onwards into forever.

A little dramatic, but such were the thoughts that sprang to mind when Ryan looked this handsome, that and other things for which his cursed his brain- noW wasn’t the time, but it was Ryan’s fault for looking so damn good whenever they had to actually go somewhere and do something. To try and occupy himself when Ryan stepped back and out of their embrace, he fidgeted awkwardly- he wanted to get his hands all over him, possibly ruin that outfit but it would be worth it- no. Brendon cringed at himself for having the worst possible timing and kind of glanced off into the distance, disappointed with himself but also actively avoiding looking directly at Ryan, like he was the sun for once. Yeah, yeah, sure they do. Brendon nodded vigorously, still unsure as to how to occupy his hands, so he shoved them into his pockets. ”Really,” He persisted, and he knew that Ryan did actually look on Instagram sometimes, he just know about the almost cult following he’d assembled even since retreating almost fully from the public eye. Brendon let almost sorry for those fans, because Ryan really was now a recluse. He served them by putting Ryan on his snapchat and Instagram as much as was possible without Ryan calling him out or something. ”They’re obsessed with you. I think it even rivals my love for you, y’know?”

Ryan was walking back over and Brendon sighed with relief, smiling softly as his husband held him close. Could they not just stay like this? So, any requests? Brendon’s expression was serene and adoring as he searched Ryan’s honey eyes and thought back to the last show, when Ryan had performed a very private love song for everyone else to hear, a window into their relationship, almost. Maybe Z will let me throw in another impromptu love song. He hummed absently, only half-listening, mostly preoccupied by Ryan himself. [b]”I bet she just loved singing a duet with you about me.”/b] Honestly, it was if they enjoyed watching other people gag at their sickly sweetness. Or maybe I’ll just surprise you. Brendon’s eyes were lidded, as Ryan had started to play with his hair, but still he managed a nod, opening them again to straighten up and move his hands to rest comfortably at Ryan’s waist. ”Surprise me,” He repeated, and he knew that Ryan would do so dutifully. You could join me onstage, too. Little bit of a reunion. A gentle laugh, and Brendon moved his hands to smooth down Ryan’s chest. ”And steal your thunder? I can barely restrain myself right now, I really won’t be able to cope up there. You’re so gorgeous. Fuck you for making me want you especially at a time where we have to be somewhere.”

searching for a feeling

Brendon did have a thing for tall guys, even though he refused to admit it, and furthermore he knew that Ryan had clocked him on that- so when he mentioned Dallon, whom Ryan had seen in all of his six foot four inch glory, he imagined how that would seem, especially when he had to go and run his mouth and say my bassist. He didn’t mean anything by it at all- though the debauchery onstage might suggest otherwise, there was nothing other than a friendship between Brendon and Dallon, and he wasn’t even sure why he was worrying about it, second-guessing his phrasing for Ryan’s benefit, when he was unsure whether Ryan would even care. Why would he? It had been a significant amount of time since they’d even spoken, it’s not like what they had had been a real relationship, or anything. If Brendon had read into his own thoughts a little more, he would have come to the realisation that he wanted Ryan to care. He wanted there to be jealousy, he wanted to be the object of Ryan’s attentions. It was just hard to admit to himself, especially after all this time when he should be well and truly over him now. No, I haven’t, not yet. Seemed pretty nonchalant. Brendon’s smile wavered desperately, as he considered the possibility that maybe, just maybe the reason that Brendon hadn’t fallen for Dallon as everyone around them sort of expected was that he was too busy being Ryan’s, even now.

He looked cool, though. He’d play along. Brendon nodded, tilting his head just barely and allowing the little smile to return comfortably to his face as he recalled their less than innocent antics on stage, tonight and shows previous to that. ”He is,” Came his affectionate response, because Dallon was. A little whiny, sometimes, maybe, but had a flair and showmanship that came close to rivalling Brendon’s. He turned a little more towards Ryan, lifting an eyebrow sharply, suggestively. ”And yeah, he would. Sometimes we don’t know when to stop. And we wonder why people think we’re dating,” As Brendon spoke, he chuckled, shaking his head as if bemused, like everything he did up there when the lights came on wasn’t completely intentional and every move was manufactured for a purpose, to start rumours, cause controversy, fuck with people- Brendon was at the stage in his life where he was fed up of strumming serenely at an acoustic guitar and singing nonsensical love songs (no offence to Ryan)- he now savoured the spotlight, made the most of the attention he got and reinvented himself completely. He’d grown leaner, his hair had gone through a dramatic revamping, his voice had improved and he was more bold, less reined in by the past, much more sensible members of the band (they were virgos and he was an aries, that’s all anyone had to know).

It was a new era, and he’d hoped to wipe a slate clean, start afresh with new people and new music, but here was Ryan, and he was desperately trying to cling onto that past even if on the surface he seemed relatively nonchalant about this whole reunion. Ryan’s company brought Brendon’s head and heart back to the original lineup, to Spencer and Jon, and nostalgia he’d mostly quelled, an emotion like grief he’d almost overcome both resurfaced again for brief, bubbling moments before they evaporated into a vague, wistful, more manageable sensation. He missed them all, but he couldn’t let that hold him back. I'm sure he'll find you first. He's been gushing about both of you and your new music ever since the label told us we'd be on this tour together. Brendon allowed himself to grin affectionately, pleased by the knowledge that Jon, one of the most talented and multifaceted musicians he knew, had praised (apparently endlessly) his new music. It meant a lot because Jon meant a lot to him, no matter how long it’d been since they last spoke. That distance would be resolved soon, though, so all would be sound. ”Tell him the feeling’s mutual,” He replied, though that was mostly a lie. Brendon hadn’t heard enough to pass his judgement properly. He wasn’t sure what was stopping him listening to their new record- maybe the knowledge that Ryan put all his feelings into song, and Brendon was terrified that he would hear a reference to himself in the music, and also terrified that he wouldn’t.

”I’ll admit, I had my doubts about this tour. Seemed like the label wanted to feed off the ‘drama’ or whatever they fuckin’ hoped would happen.” Brendon murmured, then glanced carefully at Ryan. When he looked back, that’s when it hit him square in the face that Ryan was hitting on him, less than ten minutes since they’d reunited after months of nothing at all, radio silence. At least it solved the mystery of whether Ryan cared about him at all in that way anymore, and the answer was yes, he did. Though this was the outcome that the most carnal parts of his brain wanted, the logical parts didn’t know what to think. Brendon was uneasy, but not uneasy enough to tell Ryan to back off, which everyone knew that he would have no trouble doing if that’s what he felt was necessary. He was intensely curious about what turns this encounter would take. I’m predictable. Not exactly, but Brendon released a rush of air from past his lips as a sort-of laugh, the corner of his mouth quirking affectionately. ”God, I wish you were.”

Things accelerated from there and suddenly Brendon was actually going along with Ryan’s sudden advances, even inviting him to stay while he got undressed. Brendon didn’t recall smoking or drinking anything recently, but still he felt like an outsider watching his body make bad, bad decisions. He just couldn’t help himself, and apparently, nor could Ryan, whose eyes he felt trained on him, drinking him in, almost, as he shed layers. Brendon suddenly felt paranoid that he’d misread the situation, as Ryan hadn’t moved since he invited him to stay, so he hastily offered him a way out in case he felt trapped, or something. There was a suffocating moment of hesitation and silence between them and then Ryan was close, so close, and his hands were at Brendon’s waist and he only glanced up at him once before he stared back down and Ryan’s hands were already deftly undoing the clasp on his belt like it was second nature, muscle memory neither of them were in a hurry to forget. He supposed they were past the point of return and sucked in a breath. I’d be pretty stupid to stay. Brendon’s eyes were wide- don’t go, don’t go, don’t go. Ryan was right, but had it ever stopped them before? But I’d be even more stupid to leave. Brendon felt breathless, and he draped his arms over Ryan’s shoulders if only to ground himself from swaying.

Hey, what you did up there, on stage... I'd be pretty interested to see how that'd look with me. Brendon’s eyes, though dark since his pupils had dilated almost completely, glittered, and he raised his eyebrows, tilting his back and meeting Ryan’s gaze. ”Y’gotta be more specific,” He pointed out, moving his arms so both of his hands now cradled either side of Ryan’s jaw. ”I do a lot on stage. Better tell me straight, or I’ll end up miming blowing you and call it a day.” Brendon was on the cusp of a laugh, but then he met Ryan’s eyes again, reading his expression, and it faltered. Giving the slightest nod of consent, Brendon’s hands slid down to hang onto the front of his shirt as he met Ryan in a kiss, so unlike the first one they’d shared, he thought with more clarity, couldn’t get out of his head enough to enjoy it- but he saw it through til the end, stirred by memories of Ryan’s taste, before he pulled back, and his eyes were wide. ”I- Ryan,” He said, quietly, start-stopping because he wasn’t sure exactly what it was he wanted to say. ”I- I missed you. But, baby, I don’t know what you want. What is it that you want from me this time?” His words were gentle, not accusatory, just- searching. He wasn’t sure he could provide whatever it was that Ryan was looking for- they’d already proven to themselves a relationship wouldn’t work. There was a beat, and Brendon figured he’d been too serious too soon.

”If it’s just the late nights,” He started, hands moving to the collar of Ryan’s shirt to start moving down, pulling it apart button by button, eyes focused on his task, ”I think we can work it out.”

searching for a feeling

Brendon supposed that he missed the band, and by that he meant the original lineup- after all, he and Spencer had kept the name and carried the torch onto something new, they’d just had a few swaps of other members, that’s all. Though- he couldn’t look at it like that. Brendon hadn’t even been there as part of the original lineup- Panic first belonged to Ryan, Spencer, and Brent, of all people, then Jon replaces Brent, and Brendon was only taken on board a reasonably significant period of time later- but then, they all regarded the four of them to be the most significant members, because. They were there during the height of Panic’s fame- at least, before the split. Anyway, he missed a lot, even the arguments they’d have over lyrics and musical arrangements and ‘should Ryan sing this part or should Brendon’, but what he didn’t miss was the disaster of a relationship (or lack thereof, rather darkly, towards the end) he had with the original guitarist and lead singer, Ryan, who had practically bullied him since he joined the band. It was a mutual bullying, to be fair, a toxic dynamic that, at first, Jon and Spencer desperately tried to stamp out, or at least quell, or minimise the damage that it could do to the band so a whole. Though, considering Ryan and Brendon were the two primary creative forces behind everything, he supposed they were doomed from the start, with the integral workings flawed as soon as Ryan decided he had a vendetta against who replaced him.

That was until Seattle, though, a major marker in both Brendon’s personal life and his career, and ultimately the fate of the band. After they’d drunkenly (but not without some feeling, as buried as it was) hooked up in Brendon’s hotel room on the night of Ryan’s 21st birthday party, their relationship became softer, something was just below the surface, deeper even then the almost carnal desire they harboured for eachother; but there was a limit. They weren’t friends, it never went that far, but they began a brief affair after Ryan broke it off with Keltie. Things just... Didn’t work out. They had damaged the prospect of an actual relationship beyond repair and no amount of physical intimacy could hide that, brush over it, sweep it under the rug. In fact, they fought almost as much as before, they just had a very different outlet, so it never got close to actual fistfights ever again. Anyway, though the ‘original four’ of them had issues right at their core that made the whole structure of the band unstable right from day one, the nostalgia still hit him had. He felt wistful when he thought back to their original recording sessions, all the fucking weed, even Brendon and Ryan had their geniune gentler moments, like when Ryan’s dad died, or things less serious but probably monumentally hard to cope with at the time, like when Ryan stumbled into his hotel room and was all kinds of torn up because he realised Keltie didn’t, like, love him. Even if he didn’t love her at that point. Brendon understood the feeling now.

But, after initially struggling to get over it (both the breaking off of his and Ryan’s kind-of relationship, one that was actually steadily improving, they actually had started to like eachother and seek out eachother’s presence, and the split of the band), Brendon came to realise that things changed, it just happened, and he was more than capable of taking that and running with it, and he and Spencer sure as hell did. The lack of contact between the two halves of the band wasn’t even intentional, Brendon had grown up and grown past holding grudges. He and Spencer were just so busy that they barely got time for themselves, nevermind for trying to reconnect with friends that would probably be just as busy as them or even more so, considering they had arguably more work to do to try and promote themselves and make an impression. Brendon had the safety net of the original name- it set them up for success no matter what they put out, whereas Ryan and Jon had to start almost entirely from scratch, even if they did retain a good percentage of fans. In that area, Brendon admired their work ethic- Ryan’s rivalled his own and Jon was also an ardent, passionate musician. He admired them from afar, but only in theory. Honestly, he never allowed himself to be interested enough to actively check out their stuff, ask how they were, organise something, even just have a conversation.

Even on tour, Brendon hadn’t run directly into Ryan until right now; though it was less running into him and more Ryan actively seeking him out, which interested him in a way he couldn’t quite specify. In the back of his mind he realised contently that it was good to see him again. He looked good. Brendon was as casual as possible when addressing him, though, neutral conversation and ‘man’, though in his head he annoyingly still thought baby. It was almost difficult to know how to behave, how to navigate this, but they were never really subtextual and subtle for very long. Ryan’s intentions would be aired soon enough. Hey, 'too much' is what you do best. Stick with it. That earned him a slight laugh, but Brendon wondered exactly what he meant by that. ”I intend to,” He replied, taking off the loose bowtie draped around the back of his neck and over his shoulders and tossing it carelessly in a random direction, deciding that he could hunt for it again tomorrow, or something. ”Maybe I’ll even take it a bit further. I’m thinking: fully just- make out with Dallon onstage.” Chuckling to himself, he looked down reflectively at his feet for a moment before he lifted his head, eyes shining. ”Have you met Dallon? You know Ian, but- Dallon, my- our bassist.” Not just his bassist, that would sound strange, Brendon corrected himself mid-sentence.

Fine. Good. Good, Brendon thought, regarding him for as long a time as he would allow himself. I think we are. Oh. Well, Brendon almost gulped, felt a little shiver, recalling what used to happen whenever they had an extended amount of time alone, but he shut himself down quickly, knowing the dangers of carrying down that mental highway. Spencer and Jon are apparently reconnecting. Just as Ryan smiled, Brendon did, mirroring him in his fondness for the two. ”Remind me to reconnect with Jon. Everything’s so hectic, I hope we all get to hang out more.” When Ryan stepped forward to speak again, Brendon was busy dusting down his slacks, and was rather startled when he looked up and Ryan was closer than he remembered last. I stayed for you. Why else? Well then. Brendon’s eyes widened for a split second and then his expression settled into yet another content smile, almost flattered if he hadn’t already kind of expected that. ”I dunno, I was just trying not to jump to conclusions,” He joked, flashing him a grin before returning to trying to somewhat clean his trousers, not daring to maintain eye contact because suddenly this was very real.

I didn't realize how much I missed you until I saw you again. ...Okay, that was cute. The corner of Brendon’s mouth quirked up slightly and he allowed himself to meet his gaze, blinking at with almost apprehensively because though clearly affectionate, that was such an open confession. Was it just platonic? Brendon didn’t think so, but he had a history of jumping to conclusions too fast and overreacting, making a fool of himself until he usually quickly fixed his mistake to minimise embarrassment, so. He made no grand statement in return- but what he did make was an honest one. ”I missed you too, Ry. We’ve got all tour now, though s’awesome.” They were going to be together in relatively close quarters for an entire tour. Brendon’s mind drifted. Old habits died hard, it seemed, and old thought processes didn’t die at all. He was about to speak again, voice his enthusiasm about it, but without much warning Ryan was in close quarters and Brendon’s eyes darted down to watch his knuckle brush against his chest. And I guess I missed this too, but that's not all that surprising.

For a moment, Brendon was truly floored by how quickly Ryan had accelerated an innocent reunion into something with this much underlying subtext- and now it wasn’t even subtext, Ryan was hitting on him, he was staring and touching and his interest was plain as day and Brendon felt the breath had been knocked out of him. At first, before conjuring up a reply to this, he eyed Ryan suspiciously. He didn’t seem drunk, or high- so this was sober Ryan, coming onto him like this within ten minutes of reuniting. Brendon couldn’t help but smirk. It played on his mouth dangerously, and he finally came to a plan of action, stepping in just a little closer and tilting his head back to look up at him. ”Not at all surprising,” He replied, unbothered about seeming haughty or full of himself. At this point, he deserved a little self love. ”Luckily for you,” Brendon started, stepping back and resting his lower back against the dresser in front of the mirror, ”I was getting changed anyway. Feel free to stay, I’ve done this in front of thousands.” Somehow, he managed not to be too explicit about it, and instead he pulled his suspenders from his shoulders and let them hang by his sides, then shrugged off his shirt and dropped it onto the floor in a similar fashion to his bowtie. His hands came to rest at his belt and he finally looked up. ”Or leave. Up to you.”

searching for a feeling

Brendon, too, wasn’t happy about this hyped-up, money-making scheme of a ‘reunion tour’, but after initially defiantly lashing out and protesting against the whole thing, his label cracked down and he figured he should have probably seen this coming, considering that when the band initially split, Ryan and Jon were picked right back up by the label in the form of a new band. He wasn’t really following how they were doing- he heard songs, but rarely voiced his approval directly or indirectly to them. It was as if Brendon was an ex, wanting to stay as far away from Ryan as possible but not wanting to be completely in the dark about what was going on in his life. They were still- friends, he supposed, though they’d never really been just friends; they skipped over that and instead went directly from passionate hatred to physical intimacy, which, in hindsight, was definitely not the way to go. Reflecting on it all, Brendon wasn’t sure what He and Ryan ever were, if anything. They certainly weren’t boyfriends, but they were more than just friends- enemies- with benefits. There was a softness there, an affection that neither of them anticipated, and when it became too intense and neither of them could cope, plus the band was becoming more fragile over creative difference and tensions, it ultimately tore them apart.

The split was a huge blow to all of them, though Brendon was reliably back on his feet with Spencer pretty soon, faster even than Ryan and Jon, who, though they’d said they were dead set on a direction for the band, spent a suspicious amount of time in production and writing. Meanwhile, Brendon and Spencer organised auditions for a new lineup- they needed a bassist and a guitarist, which would be difficult shoes to fill, Brendon secretly thought. No matter their differences in what direction they wanted to go in, there was a general mutual respect and agreement that they were all very talented musicians and it would be hard for all of them to find people that could fill those empty spaces on stage and be even half as good as their predecessors. Brendon’s ex-sort-of-boyfriend (he had quite a few of those), Ian, was the sensible choice for guitarist- they ended things in a very good place and though he imagined it would be slightly alarming for Ryan that he had been replaced by Ian of all people, they did audition some others, but nobody fit as well as Ian did. Spencer has joked, rather darkly, than maybe Brendon just always had a thing for his guitarist. Brendon was disgruntled, but couldn’t exactly argue- of the two he’d played with as part of an official lineup, he’d hooked up with them both.

Then there was the matter of a bassist. Brendon and Spencer has already been writing and recording their new album and were done a few weeks before they even found Dallon, who was, in fact, their only hope, because after months of not being able to find anyone, Dallon come along in the nick of time so they could actually perform on tour. The downside to Dallon was that at the first audition, it quickly became apparent that he hadn’t learned any of the songs. Not one. Brendon, who was letting label and time pressures get to him, had snapped and demanded that Dallon actually learn the songs next time, you fucking moron. Of course, Dallon did, and after that Brendon realised he was a sweet guy, kind of odd, but a talented musician and almost as theatrical and over-the-top as Brendon was while they were on stage even just in soundcheck and practices. The first night of the tour, though, was when the onstage chemistry between the three front-of-house band members (Spencer was too confined to his drums to join in) became obvious- Brendon, with his new haircut, in the new bowtie/suit/suspenders getup that he’d forced the rest of the band to wear, had seemingly evolved from the sweet, geniune, hyperactive frontman he’d once been- he became more bold, chaotic, perhaps even explicit, which was maybe understandable given the nature of the songs he had written lately- but it both stunned and riled up the crowd, especially when Brendon stores across stage towards Ian and pressed up against him, sans innocence or affection, or when he got down on his knees in front of Dallon just for the hell of it. It was all a spur-of-the-moment thing, and by the end, Brendon was impressed with himself for not just stripping off onstage.

Afterwards, he was content, cooling down in the air-conditioned rooms backstage and then flitting between people, accepting compliments about the show and engaging in conversation with the stage manager about how things could be improved, being all giddy and excited with Dallon and Ian and Spencer but deciding, to everyone’s surprise, he was just going to go back to the hotel tonight, not go drinking anywhere. Therefore, he was pretty much the only one left after everyone else dispersed into the city or back onto buses and away, so he went back to his dressing room (unfortunately not air conditioned) and began to undress, realising belatedly as he did so that he’d probably have to wear the same clothes over and over again before he got a chance to wash them. He only had so many changes of costume and Brendon was adamant that he’d stick to the theme all the way through and not end up in, like, jeans and a t-shirt like he often had in his previous band when he was too laid-back to care about whether he matched the show or whatever. Brendon was much more of a showman now, and it was obvious in the way he talked, performed and sang. The change in him was evident to those who knew him well and those who didn’t.

Turns out, though, Brendon wasn’t the only one left behind after everyone else had filtered out and left. He saw Ryan in the mirror and blinked, a rush of emotions hitting him that he couldn’t quite describe, so he didn’t try and read into it too much, just exhaled silently from his parted lips and offered Ryan’s reflection a small, tired smile. Hey. It hit Brendon then that they hadn’t had a proper conversation in person for a while, especially not while alone. It’d been too hectic so far, Brendon didn’t even remember seeing him before the show. ”Hey,” He returned, casual, stepping aside slightly as Ryan moved to stand by him so there was more room by the mirror. Automatically, he gave Ryan a quick once-over, then looked back dutifully at his reflection. You guys sounded... just. Amazing. You killed it. Not to state the obvious. Brendon grinned, glancing down as he finished the last of his buttons and let his hands fold over his chest. ”Thanks, man, you too,” He murmured, but then he quirked an eyebrow as he remembered exactly how he behaved on stage, cringing not from embarrassment but more for Ryan’s sake. ”I’ve been told that sometimes I’m too much, but. Good to know you approve.”

Brendon cleared his throat and hesitated for a second. He’d been in the middle of changing, but now Ryan was here, he put it on pause, and after a second he turned to glance at the closed door. You okay? ”Yeah, I’m great, how are you?” A pause. ”Are we the only ones here? How come you stayed back?”

stay afloat || b&r

Brendon was having a hard time pretending that everything Ryan told him was completely new information, had a hard time talking to him like a near stranger when he felt, strangely, like he’d known Ryan for his entire life. In a way, he supposed, he had- indirectly. He knew details about Ryan’s history and habits that even Ryan himself will have partially or wholly forgotten- talking to him and asking these questions, engaging in this casual conversation wasn’t just a way to slowly begin to earn his trust, but it was absolutely necessary. Brendon still didn’t know much about the human world, but he was educated and wise enough to realise that if he started asking Ryan why he’d never met his half-brother before, it wouldn’t go down well and would probably secure Brendon never being allowed within fifty feet of Ryan again. He didn’t seem like a particularly open person anyway- Brendon could only imagine his reaction if he started recalling obscure details about Ryan’s life like he was the expert. Even though he likely was. It was a strange dynamic, and one that Brendon wasn’t used to- he was used to assisting from a distance. Being up close and personal with a human like this was groundingly intimate.

When their conversation crossed into mutually common territory, about their musical abilities, Brendon found himself becoming more and more fascinated, wishing Ryan was more talkative because he could listen to him speak for hours, especially about something for which he held passion- and he could tell music was one of his. When he showed interest in learning whatever Ryan knew about it, it wasn’t a cheap trick to gain trust- Brendon had always been genuinely interested in human music and instruments, but it had obviously never been available for him to learn. He distantly recalled some rule forbidding engaging or interfering with human arts, including music or simple things like attempting to play a manmade instrument, but chose at this moment to ignore it, feigning ignorance to such a (in his opinion) ridiculous commandment. Brendon watched carefully as Ryan looked past him, at the wall, and he felt a strong twist in his stomach at the slight sadness he could detect on his face. His expression remained neutral, unrevealing, when inwardly, he was bracing himself in preparation in case they ever came into physical contact and Brendon would feel whatever Ryan felt. I will. Brendon nodded, offering what he hoped was a vaguely comforting smile.

Nothing would come of avoiding such subjects, or treating Ryan like a delicate child, as God seemed to see all humans as- Brendon saw them differently, regarded Ryan face to face and decided that they were not so unalike as he had been lead to believe. Everything Ryan held over him was associated with free will and liberty and Brendon felt intensely envious even though he imagined that, if Ryan knew of Brendon’s true nature, it would be the same the other way around. Yeah, I’m still here. Despite Brendon feeling no apprehension as he spoke, it was still unnverving to see Ryan’s secret smile after he accidentally mentioned that he already knew about his dad- mostly because he wasn’t educated enough to know what that mysterious, mirthless smile went. He thought about just straight up asking but decided against it, accepting, albeit belatedly, that he’d just have to figure all of this complicated human emotion stuff out as he went along. Brendon exhaled finally, not realising he’d been holding his breath. ”I can tell that was a sore spot for you, I’m sorry. Not something you want to be discussing with a potential roommate, I’m sure.”

He attempted to settle the situation and lighten the mood as much as possible and, thank the lord, it worked. Just like his mood dropped substantially when Ryan was even faintly unhappy, Brendon skyrocketed just at that little grin he coaxed from his charge. He could already tell that he’d be experiencing a heady cocktail of intense emotions in a very short period of time and wondered how on Earth humans did it, how their mortal bodies didn’t get... Overwhelmed. Though, he supposed that a lot of the time, they did. Anyway. Being obviously religious wasn’t a bad thing to Brendon, of course, but being so easily ‘clocked’ or whatever set him off wondering whether he had to be more subtle. Maybe not that obvious until you told me God spent extra time on me. Brendon opened his mouth but couldn’t find an answer, just shrugged sheepishly and felt his face heat up. ”I- It does happen with some people,” He said, his expression earnest. It’s fine- not like that’s something I’ll forget. Well. Brendon shifted in his chair, this time noticeably less graceful; admittedly, he was still rather perturbed.

The mood, though, was still light, until a subject that Brendon had absolutely not been informed about came up and he was now a deer caught in metaphorical headlights, having no idea how to react or behave to whatever was about to be revealed to him. It wasn’t like there was a manual, and such things were rarely, if ever, discussed. Gay? Brendon had been expecting it, but still, the word alarmed him, and consequently a deep shame and he knew where neither emotions came from. He hoped neither were obvious on his face. Sure. Feel free to take back all of the ‘'I'll help you with your debt,' 'we're still here despite everything' bullshit. Visibly recoiling at the harshness of his tone, Brendon looked something like a kicked puppy, unable to cope under even a little pressure before he buckled, and he had no idea how to claw himself out of this one. It wasn’t like he thought anything was wrong with it, he was just- he wasn’t allowed to think anything about it, and the panic of not knowing how to respond set in immediately. Not knowing what else to, Brendon stood up suddenly from the chair, sending it screeching along the floor.

He knew he was making it worse, but was lost for what to do, just stood there, his heart hammering and his stomach turning and he felt awful. And you act a little fruity yourself, so I'd advise not being a total asshole about it.For some reason, after that, panic mode stopped and time felt like a thick jelly, like he had time to formulate some sort of response just because he was so baffled by that ‘fruity’ comment. ”Fruity?” He echoed, arms crossing his chest nervously. He shook his head, dismissive. ”Listen, Ryan, I think you-“ Deep breath. When he spoke next, his voice was harsher, more eloquent. ”I was just asking. Let me respond before you jump to conclusions. I’m not sure anymore I’m welcome, so if you want to show me the door.”

dance in the rain

So, yeah, Brendon didn’t get up unless weed was promised- and not some half-assed ‘you’ll get it after, Bren’, or a sweeter, more manipulative ‘but you do your best work when you’re not high’. Brendon, frankly, vehemently disagreed- Jon came up with that line when he was high, that working title literally just meant ‘weed’, and that lyric was about being high. He strongly believed that this new ‘pipes afterwards’ rule was just to punish Brendon and Brendon alone. So, in rebellion against the dictatorship of Spencer, Brendon decided he wasn’t going to get up- in fact, he’d stay in bed, preferably asleep, unless someone physically dragged him out. And he was a dead weight when he wanted to be, despite being considerably small. Not only was this effectively an efficient protest, it was a clever excuse for Brendon to just be lazy and not have to do any work for once, like they did every day without fail. He was sure they could handle it without him, and he stuck by that even when his three bandmates argued that he was the lead vocalist, he needed to tie up loose ends. Ryan even promised him more writing liberty if he didn’t sleep in so long. Brendon, apparently, could not be swayed.

What helped was that not everybody was on board to drag him out of bed first thing in the morning- Ryan was his guardian angel of sorts, his saviour, defending his honour against the wrath of Spencer and the passiveness of Jon, he supposed. Thank god for Ryan fucking Ready. That particular morning, Brendon had been in and out of consciousness a considerable amount of times, and he happened to be half awake when Ryan (he knew by his gait; you live long enough around someone...) entered his room, hovering by the doorway. Brendon mentally dared him to even think about trying to get him out of bed. To his surprise, he was better at telepathy than he had initially believed, and he heard the door shut and Ryan’s footsteps retreating. Brendon, safe in the knowledge he wouldn’t be disturbed for some time (unless Spencer got particularly annoyed by his absence, but Brendon had a death wish), drifted off right away, enclosed in his fluffy mountain of blankets. It was way too warm in there to even consider going out into the relative cold so he could listen to Jon play the same bass tab fifty times in a row.

Unfortunately, Brendon’s good fortune didn’t last him long, and when Ryan came hunting for him next, he had just finished kicking his blankets aside, deciding that he could only cope with so much cosiness. He was half-awake, and this time Ryan seemed adamant, approaching his bedside and just leaving the door wide open, letting more light stream in from the window in the hallway opposite his door. Letting out a quiet noise of complaint, Brendon turned over and groped to find himself a pillow, pulling it over his head. Brendon. He faintly heard his name and decided quickly after smothering himself with a pillow that it was really too hot for this, so he pushed it off the bed with a sleepy growl of sorts, resting his head against the remaining pillow again and willing Ryan to go away. Unfortunately, he didn’t heed his pleas, and Brendon sighed inwardly when he felt Ryan’s hand against his temple, cracking one eye open and pouting at him. Bren, hey, wake up. ”Go away,” He protested immediately, mumbling, letting his eyes shut tight again. Brendon really hated him right now. ”I really hate you right now.”

In obvious distaste, Brendon batted Ryan’s hand away, pushing it off his temple and then fully turning over onto his other side, facing away from Ryan, the traitor who was supposed to be on his side. Check it out, I got you breakfast. He didn’t care. If it wasn’t weed, he wasn’t interested right now. Though... he imagined he’d be hungry later. Brendon stirred, partway convinced. We gotta practice. Do we, though, Brendon thought; maybe you guys need to, I don’t. If you don’t wake up, Spencer’s gonna come in here. Brendon’s opened quickly and he let out a deep sigh of disappointment before he turned over again to face Ryan, propping himself up on one elbow and snatching the muffin with his free hand, turning it over, considering. He then sat up, resting his back against the headboard, eyeing Ryan, clearly irritated. ”You’re dead to me,” He announced, crossing an arm over his bare chest and narrowing his eyes, shaking his head to get some curls of hair out of his eyes. This morning, the last thing on his to-do list was ‘fix his hair’. ”You’re like, Spencer’s little lackey.”

nothing friendly at all

It was easy to put all of their complex problems down to Ryan’s bruised ego, back when Brendon was recruited to take his place by Spencer and Jon in a not-quite-majority vote (Ryan wasn’t really given a choice), but it would be unfair of him, he thought now, to blame their messed-up relationship and consequently toxic band atmosphere on Ryan alone. Initially, Brendon had been cocky and full of himself to counter Ryan, riling him up for his own amusement because it was so easy and he felt Ryan deserved it for treating him like dirt on the bottom of his shoes. He criticised his singing ability, his lyrics (Brendon deemed them ‘pretentious’ and ‘nonsensical’, amongst other things) and his misfortunate love life. Ryan was, fortunately for Brendon, a serial monogamist who couldn’t quite hold a relationship for longer than, say, six months. Brendon couldn’t say much considering he hadn’t been in a relationship since the band started, not a proper one, but that was out of choice. Ryan just seemed to fuck up every romance he was ever ‘swept away’ on, and Keltie, though more significant and longer lasting than any of his prior relationships, was just another in a long line of failures, and towards the end when this became apparent, Brendon relished in mercilessly mocking him for it. Ryan gave back as good as he got, but Brendon seemed to have the general upper hand recently, until last night happened and suddenly everything was levelled out.

Funny how someone he always wanted as far away from his as possible was so intoxicating now he was finally this close. When Ryan left the bed and headed off towards the window, Brendon had initially reached out as if to, regretting his request, drag him back down, but then he settled as comfortably as he could and let his eyes flutter shut and his vivid memory take him through the events of last night. There was when Ryan first arrived, and Brendon’s initial emotions were just- shock, surprise, what the hell was he doing here, so on and so forth. Brendon had been a mess, appearance wise- shirtless, pyjama pants, his hair a mess, he was all stubbly and rough around the edges, the opposite of the clean-cut, shaven, tidy individual he presented himself to be. A reflex triggered by his though process, Brendon’s hand lifted to scrub over his jaw, grimacing slightly when he felt the stubble against his palm. He reminded himself to shave, them settled back into his memories. Ryan had been drunk already, but had raided the minifridge nevertheless- Brendon reminded himself then, sex or no sex, Ryan still needed to reimburse him for that- and they came to an awkward arrangement on the hotel room couch, Brendon on one end and Ryan steadily going through the tiny bottles on the other.

Brendon had questions, but Ryan just went off on a tangent about Keltie, full of remorse and regret and confusion and Brendon was deeply uncomfortable, preferring Ryan angry than upset, because he could only deal with the former. He uneasily offered some vague insight- which, though not sympathetic, was honest as possible- but then things quickly escalated, as it tended to do when it was Brendon and Ryan, and Brendon was intensely angry at Ryan’s sheer audacity, forcing himself into Brendon’s hotel room, whining about his relationship troubles and still treating him backhandedly, like he was lesser, or something. Brendon’s patience wore thin and it brought him to a seething life, forgetting his inhibitions and, driven partially by alcohol, pushing Ryan practically against a wall with some newfound strength, daring him, challenging him, asking him to take what he really wanted, what Ryan knew he wanted since his even thought about flying to Seattle. And Ryan, to his complete surprise, accepted the dare, surging in to close the minimal space between them and catching him in an angry kiss. It all escalated from there, and everything after that in Brendon’s mind were just hot flashes, skin, recollections that sent shivers down his spine and intensified the ache in his muscles just from the memory.

He was distant, now, and though his eyes were open, he was looking almost distantly at Ryan, coming to the conclusion that he would never look at him the same again. Pointers? Really? Slowly, the animated smile creeped back to Brendon’s face, and he shrugged one shoulder carelessly, still playing with the creased sheets, playing uninterested. ”Hey, don’t worry about it, I don’t judge.” He lifted his head and finally met Ryan’s eyes. In that case... Brendon lifted his eyebrows right back, mind clouding at the mere suggestion of a ‘next time’. He wondered what the circumstances would be then. Next time. Brendon replied with an affirmative nod. ”Anytime, baby.” Ryan then crossed the room and pulled him into a kiss, relatively and regrettably brief before he climbed over Brendon and settled there. He wondered how Ryan could manage the distance when Brendon felt drawn to him. He missed his skin, after mere moments. Embarassing. He resisted following for a while, though, both of them considering Keltie, Brendon with something akin to disdain and disbelief. Probably hypocritical considering he was the ‘other man’ on Ryan’s side, he supposed. So am I. Fair enough, but Brendon was suspicious at how that almost seemed like Ryan jumping to her defense. He looked at him sharply, critically, feeling suddenly the urge to move back and away and demand he leave, what was he doing, this was Ryan. But it passed. Uneasily, he stilled.

But you probably knew that. He nodded. ”You’re pretty, but you’re really, really dumb,” Brendon added on, something almost like affection edging into his low, sleep-rough voice. Finally, he decided he could no longer handle the distance and moved despite the pain to settle beside Ryan, cursing him for making him move instead of having mercy and settling beside him in the first place. Brendon felt despicably childish, like he was tugging on the sleeve of somebody for attention, but the gentle touch against his chest calmed him and he decided against complaining about it. His attention was drawn towards Ryan’s hands, and he knew he was being infuriatingly tactile but he allowed himself to indulge, sighing deeply when he traced his thumb across his calloused guitarist’s hands and came to another realisation; he’d never be able to innocently watch Ryan play guitar ever again. Brendon then went to reluctantly let go but Ryan was interlacing their fingers together and he felt his heart rate spike- He watched, in awe, as Ryan kissed his hand. Brendon. Yes, baby, anything. Thank you. Brendon blinked back at Ryan, unsure, until he looked away. He took the opportunity to lean in and press a kiss against his neck, tucking his head into Ryan’s shoulder.

You could've told me to fuck off at any point, you know. Endless patience. Brendon had since moved a hand to hold his jaw and tilt Ryan’s head back towards him so he could meet him in a kiss, and when he pulled away to hear him speak, he replied by leaning in to kiss him again, smiling against his lips before pulling away. ”Maybe I should’ve told you to fuck off.” Another gentle kiss. ”I’d be able to like, walk, then.” He shifted as if to demonstrate his point, wincing. ”You’re trouble.”

nothing friendly at all

Brendon’s traditional speech before Lying wasn’t written intentionally to annoy Ryan or get on his nerves, but when it was performed, Brendon named the drama and played the part, fully getting into it every time without fail. The crowd loved it- the rest of the band thought it was silly, but Brendon was theatrical and shameless and he loved milking the shock factor of his promiscuous onstage persona almost as much as he loved stringing along Ryan, casting him as the ‘lover’ in his dream, a harsh, cold irony that tasted like metal in both of their mouths when Brendon almost spat out the gentle words and imagery like poison, but subtly enough that only Ryan would understand he was saying never in a million years to that whimsical dream. Now, though, when they were pressed close, when all Brendon could feel was the intoxicating combination of the bedsheets and Ryan’s warm skin, and instead of tasting harsh copper from spitefulness he was getting drunk from kissing Ryan, from the heady situation situation or from the strong alcohol he could taste on Ryan’s lips, he wasn’t sure. All he knew was that it was a joyously far cry from when Brendon would talk about that perfect, passionate kiss, and would hunt Ryan down onstage, enjoying how uncomfortable he made Ryan feel and how much he affected him when he either kneeled down and hung onto his legs or his clothes or his waist, or leaned in dangerously close as if to take that kiss. He never did, but every time he came closer, toed the line, tested how far he could go before he pushed Ryan over the edge.

Many times after shows like that when Brendon was particularly rowdy, Ryan exploded into anger and frustration afterwards, and Brendon then saw that as a success- He flinched, now, recognising the toxicity and realising that they were still, effectively, like that. Sure, they were all sweet and tender now, but relationships couldn’t just be fixed like that, especially when their relationship was broken to begin with- as in, they wanted nothing to do with eachother, but being stuck in that situation they had become reliant on eachother’s presence and felt lost when the other wasn’t there. That feeling alone made them even more angry. Thinking about it in reflection, it made sense why Ryan had flown all the way across the country to see him even though they were supposed to hate eachother’s guts. Brendon would have done the same if he were in the same shitty situation. Lost mostly in his head, he continued matching Ryan’s gentle behaviour, savouring each soft kiss because they were both volatile in nature and each could be their last if one of them even barely said the wrong thing- And, the awful thing was, they knew exactly what buttons to press if they wanted to send the other one over the edge.

Brendon was self-sabotaging by nature and the longer the quiet stretched out, the more his mind wandered to damaging places, considering how just earlier this morning Ryan had been calling Keltie ‘baby’, and even if it was reflex, it hurt. Brendon reprimanded himself for feeling any vague spark of jealousy, because that would mean he was jealous of Ryan’s lover, and he didn’t want to be Ryan’s lover. Sure, Ryan had told her it was over for good, but Brendon couldn’t count on all of his fingers how many times he’d witnessed Ryan and Keltie have a fight, swear that they’d never see the other again, call it off, and then get back together the next day, clinging embarrassingly to eachother like it never happened. Brendon, at the time, found a sick joy in watching Ryan’s fucked love life pan out, watch it fuck with his head, but now, he recognised it as awful and draining and it made him reject serious relationships for even longer than he already had been doing. It wasn’t a commitment thing, he just- the job he had now, the band, they were still near the beginning, he had to work hard. He had a lot of love to give but didn’t want to half-ass it with anyone, be that referring to time or priority. Brendon was the kind of person to prioritise people over work, even though he had a startlingly strong work ethic- he was worried he wouldn’t be able to equally distribute his passion and therefore just dodged every opportunity to stop the dilemma occurring the first place. Plus- he hadn’t found anyone worthy of that yet.

Strange to be thinking about that now. Brendon felt the loss when Ryan arose and wrapped himself in the comforter, but said nothing, just shifted slightly, watching him intently as he moved, smiling slightly. I’m cold. Uh-huh. Brendon glanced towards the window, straining a little to look outside and squinting in the sunlight that bathed him in warmth. Cold, sure. Again, he said nothing, just clicked his tongue knowingly. As he readjusted, he teased Ryan about this whole ‘was last night cheating’ thing, and though he kind of immediately regretted it, Ryan seemed to take it fairly well. Whoa. Brendon picked up on his tone and grinned, tilting his head. So you didn’t enjoy it? Brendon swallowed thickly at that fucking smirk, one he’d seen so many times but in a cruel context, not one like this, nothing like this. Trying to relax, he stretched his arms above his head languidly, knuckles turning white as he gripped onto the top of the headboard to anchor himself. He returned the smirk, but yawned, all casual, before he responded. ”Of course I enjoyed it,” He reasoned, ”But I could give you some pointers.” A pause. ”Maybe next time I can show you..”

But no, probably not. He let go of the headboard and let his taut muscles go slack, expression softening, but he couldn’t conjure any comforting words, so he remained quiet, still with that little helpless smile that broadened as he heard Ryan’s slow, unsteady exhale. He became even more excited when Ryan came over and placed their drinks down, about to reach up and tug him down, but Ryan beat him to it, basically lifting him into a kiss that Brendon immediately melted into despite the loud protest of his muscles, digging his fingernails only slightly into Ryan’s hips before Ryan let go and he settled as tenderly as possible back onto the mattress. I love when you call me that. Brendon’s eyes glittered, because that was dangerous, vulnerable territory, but it was so tempting to take the plunge into treacherous waters with someone like Ryan- which was strange to say, because twenty-four hours ago, ‘someone like Ryan’ meant ‘someone he wanted to skin alive’. Anyway. ”Anyway,” Brendon replied huskily, trailing off. Anyway.

Moving as much as his aching body would allow, he settled back down against the headboard as Ryan climbed into the bed and lay horizontally, their legs crossing over. Brendon was blatantly staring, seemingly deep in thought. You're probably wrong. I think she was definitely seeing other people, so clearly I wasn't doing enough. Oh? Brendon’s eyebrows lifted, intruiged, and also surprised. What more could she want than that? Brendon figured he was being obvious, but at this point, couldn’t care less. He just shrugged a shoulder, but was still staring at Ryan, fascinated, until Ryan turned his head to look at him and he quickly glanced away, picking at the sheets again to busy his hands. ”She’s crazy,” He announced, as if fact. The quiet they were in was surprisingly comfortable, and Brendon’s eyelids started to droop, dangerously close to drifting off now the offending light had been blocked by the blinds and curtains, courtesy of Ryan, who was the one who spoke up and caught his attention once again. You think anyone would notice if we just never left this hotel room? I kinda prefer it here. A long sigh escaped Brendon’s lips and he stared at Ryan again for a few beats before he made his decision and moved- again against the vehement protests of his own body- to collapse and lie next to him, planting an elbow by his head and resting his chin in his jaw, using his other hand to idly trace Ryan’s side. He was enthralled, and his voice when he spoke was distant. ”I...” Brendon curled his fingers around Ryan’s wrist and lifted it, tracing his thumb along the spidery veins of his hand. ”I wish.”

nothing friendly at all

When Brendon actually thought about it, the idea of Ryan sitting around at his own birthday party, already drunk, and then deciding he wanted to go and see Brendon of all people was hilarious in itself- but now it was out in the open that clearly Ryan’s subconscious had goals rather than just sitting around and stealing all of the drinks from his minifridge, it was a hundred times funnier. Sure, so, he found it difficult to even begin to believe that Ryan wasn’t entirely motivated by alcohol and drunken fantasies, at first, but somehow they’d ended up like this- wrapped around and with eachother amongst crumpled sheets on a surprisingly comfortable bed in a second-rate hotel in Seattle (the label paid for it, but they weren’t exactly lavish spenders). It was bizarre, and twenty four hours ago, if somebody had told him he would be sleeping with Ryan on the night of his 21st birthday, he’d have either laughed in their face or, like, mimed throwing up, funnt considering it was up in the air now that Brendon thought about such things much, much more than he cared to admit. Now that it had happened, he felt no sense of satisfaction; though an afterglow has settled in his bones and an alien affection for Ryan had gripped him by the throat out of nowhere, he didn’t feel fulfilled by one night, instead felt a drive for more, more, more, even as they were pressed together and exchanging frequent, uncharacteristically gentle kisses.

It wasn’t them, but it was, it really was, and as Ryan moved to bracket his hands around Brendon’s narrow waist, holding onto him tight and sure, Brendon felt safe and comfortable, two emotions he never expected to associate with Ryan. Similarly to Ryan, his head was being invaded by pesky fantasies, but less the ones he saved for nights alone- instead, he played with the words ‘boyfriend’ and ‘ryan’ in his head and pondered the possibility for mere seconds before he shut himself down because that was ridiculous. One amazing night (well, considering they were both drunk) and one deeply and oddly affectionate morning didn’t equal the potential for a relationship when all of their past and consistent hatefulness was added to the equation. They were probably still just basking in the afterglow, Brendon convinced himself, even as he stared dotingly into Ryan’s honeycomb eyes, moved a hand to trail down his chest and concentrated briefly on the soreness he felt throughout his body in juxtaposition to that softness. It was an odd feeling, and one he was sharing with- he’d said it enough, but it was still shocking- Ryan, of all people. He imagined Jon and Spencer’s faces if they ever found out. Which they wouldn’t. Unless Brendon and Ryan became anything serious. Which they wouldn’t.

Anyway. Brendon wasn’t completely smitten with Ryan even now, when they were tangled together and Ryan had just ordered them both waffles and pancakes. He swiftly warned Ryan of pushing his luck- he might be in Brendon’s temporary good books at that moment, but Brendon was nothing if not wary and Ryan was nothing if not predictable. His pessisimistic side told him that this peace they’d found, this solace in Seattle, was temporary. But he tried not to thinks about it, half-heartedly warned Ryan not to be presumptuous about his place, and was then immediately won over by Ryan offering to make it up to him. Embarrassingly, he was on board right away. Brendon tilted his head and looked off into the distance as if to think, but was distracted when Ryan leaned in close against him and he turned his head just enough to catch him in a lecherous kiss on impulse. After that, he pulled back with a shaky, satisfied breath, and his eyelashes fluttered as Ryan started pressing painfully gentle kisses against his cheek. He needed words, couldn’t comprehend words. Luckily, he managed, drawing back so the sun was out of his eyes and freeing an arm to shield his face from the light streaming in through the open blinds. Ryan seemed reluctant- Brendon almost wondered whether he had any ideas about how to make it up to him already- but he was obedient, and that was all that mattered. Sure.

”Thank you, sweetheart,” Brendon mumbled, his voice rough and lilting from sleepiness. Though he had asked for Ryan to stand up, he still made an involuntarily whine of protest when he actually went to do so, reaching out as if to yank the comforter off of him and then thinking better of it, instead gently hanging onto the end and tugging it, playful, one eyebrow twitching mock-suggestively. He let go with a rush of air as a laugh, pressing his back against the cushions and waiting as Ryan wandered over to the curtains, wrapped in his shawl. What, was he shy? Brendon laughed to himself. ”What’s with the blanket? Can’t get all shy on me now.” He was still grinning as Ryan reached the window and shut both the blinds and the curtains. But it made you look so pretty. I’m almost grieving. ”Almost,” He echoed. He looked at him pointedly even as he moved towards the minibar and turned on the kettle. ”I’m sure you’ll survive, somehow.”

As Ryan started messing around with mugs and cocoa and coffee, Brendon himself kicked off the sheets and sat up to readjust his position, shifting down the bed and then drawing the covers up so they were taught across his hips. He planted his elbows behind him into the cushions and when he tipped his head back, he could rest the crown of his head against the headboard. The whole motion was not fluid, but it was painful. Intoxicatingly so. I'm making you hot chocolate. We should just start a list of my good deeds. Brendon lifted his head and opened one eye just to judge him before he rolled both and closed them again, his head thudding against the headboard. ”Does fucking your supposed arch nemesis while you’re still technically with your girlfriend count as a good deed?” It was in jest. Mostly. Brendon was trying to stifle a laugh even as Ryan started talking. Remember we’ve got a show coming up? ...Unfortunately. Cursing, Brendon sat up straighter and pressing his back against the headboard, flinching as he did so. It had been a while, alright. Are you gonna be able to, with, uh. Absolutely not. Your ass? As if it were the most tragic thing in the world, Brendon grimaced.

Every step is hell, over here. You might die. Experimental, he moved again, and this time he let out an involuntarily noise of pain, trailing it off into colourful curses. Not looking good. ”Whose fault is that, huh? Like, jesus, baby. You really had been thinking ‘bout that for a while.” He smirked, picking at the sheets. ”I’ve solved the mystery of Keltie staying with you, anyway.”