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In your way 2 mos ago Forum: 1x1 Roleplay
If Brendon had thought about it a little more, he would’ve have realised that he didn’t just like Ryan- he loved him. It just- wasn’t anything he’d experienced before, so he couldn’t connect a word that sounded so foreign and unrealistic to a man who had been something in his life that stuck to his shoe in the best way, always clinging on to his heart even if he was out of his mind. Which he rarely was. Even back when they absolutely despised eachother- Brendon and Ryan spent a lot of their free time concentrating on the person they supposedly hated the most. It also wasn’t obvious because of the way it had crept up to him, imperceptibly, too imperceptibly, perhaps, to seem like perfidy, but earlier in their lives if he’d figured out his feelings he would have indeed felt betrayed by his own heart. He’d spent a long time finding someone who could fill Ryan’s shoes when they mutually (but not really) decided that the two of them just couldn’t work. Physically, many could- that was just the honest truth- but. Their connection, the connection that made their physical relationship so intense. He couldn’t find that anywhere.

Of course, though, he was in deep-set denial that he needed Ryan beyond in a raw, materialistic way, to fill the void like some kind of novelty to be greedily consumed. To try and prove that to himself, he resisted Ryan for so long that he convinced himself that what was driving him crazy was the lack of sex, which was ridiculous, but he tried to make that the reason he felt so empty up til the end, when he was moving into Ryan’s lap, into his arms, when Ryan’s hands fit so naturally around his waist. They fit like puzzle pieces. He couldn’t deny that any longer. So when Ryan openly confessed his feelings, Brendon just stared at him for a beat, didn’t even think. It turned out he didn’t need to. He just told Ryan the truth and, when seeing he was lost for words, leaned in to catch him in a passionate, amorous kiss, feeling every nerve in his body tighten and close before his muscles relaxed and he melted into where he belonged- right there, in Ryan’s lap, kissing him senseless. As he did, ridiculous images flashed through his head, waking up with the sun streaming through the curtains and his head buried in Ryan’s chest. Sitting against his chest between his legs watching some movie, Ryan quietly playing with his hair. Both of them lying on polar ends of the couch, legs intertwined as they did completely separate tasks. Sitting opposite eachother in a coffee shop, laughing about nothing, Brendon thinking about how Ryan’s eyes were kind of like a caramel macchiato or something ridiculous like that. It was embarrassing. It was beautiful.

He pulled back and stifled a smile when Ryan’s thumb moved to brush along his lower lip. His eyebrow twitched as he, usually smartassed and obnoxious, struggled to think of something to say. Ryan, of course, was still panicking, because that’s what he did. Though Brendon supposed he’d given him plenty reason to be wary. He thought about getting into a serious, in-depth conversation about this, which was entirely out of character, but then he realised that he hadn’t been dicked down in goddamn weeks and Ryan was right there, beneath him, they were both starving. As much as Ryan tried to hide it. So he offered a proposal, and Ryan didn’t say anything for a second- but in a moment he easily manoeuvred the two of them so they could be even closer, then caught Brendon off guard for once in a slower, punctuating, equally breathtaking kiss. He swore this shit only happened in cringey fucking romance novels. He swore this only happened in awful movies.

But then they were out of breath and Ryan was at his neck and shoulder instead. Brendon didn’t even get his breath back, forgetting he’d been holding it. You’re serious. Of course, dumbass. Of course. I’ve never meant something more in my life, I’m sorry it took so long, I’m sorry I spent so long falling into the tempting arms of the wrong people. You were right here this whole time, the only one for me.

It was baffling that Brendon didn’t realise he was in love.

I like you so much. I do. You’re serious? Brendon couldn’t help but grin, finally exhaled and then inhaled, catching his lost breath and using the time to figure out what to say. ”Oh, yeah. I’m serious.” A pause. ”Can I just say I’m very impressed you haven’t started undressing me yet. I’m actually kind of offended.” ...Classic Brendon, there was only so much sincerity at a time that he could handle.
Brendon had known from the start that Ryan would never be one that was able to give incredibly romantic, articulate speeches- he had an incredible grasp of language and a way with written word that Brendon melted for, could never hope to have himself, but verbally? He was, more often than not, hopeless. And Brendon adored the juxtaposition. He didn’t care that Ryan couldn’t make sweeping declarations (the closest he’d come was whenever they were entirely alone at twilight, wrapped up in eachother’s arms). Brendon knew just how much Ryan loved him and he didn’t need to be told in some extravagant way- his wonderful writing made him flustered as it was, he wouldn’t be able to handle Ryan being so plainly profound with him all the time. Rare occasions where they lay under the stars or stayed up all night talking til the sunrise- that was overwhelming enough. Similarly, but not quite, Ryan was useless at- more talking explicitly, too. Brendon coaxed him into it sometimes but Ryan, who usually couldn’t stop talking while they were trying to kind of just, for lack of a better term, get on with it, was surprisingly stuck whenever Brendon tried to provoke any kind of dirty talk. These days, he did it because it was funny.

Earlier in their relationship Brendon had foolishly thought that maybe it was because Ryan didn’t find him all that... sexually appealing. This was quickly disproved. Ryan made the opposite obvious in a very different way, and Brendon could almost translate his expressions and body language into words of their own. This was just how well they’d grown to know eachother. All of this considered, Brendon was not surprised by what he heard- but was shocked that Ryan was saying it in front of three other people, one a stranger, one a friend who definitely didn’t need to hear the details of their physical relationship. Even wasted, it was bewildering how loose Ryan’s tongue had become- and at first it was amusing, he enjoyed it, but as it became gradually more inappropriate he was less endeared and amused, more mortified by just how much of an open book Ryan had become. It was a side he’d always wanted to see but now was uncomfortable with, one because Zack wouldn’t leave him alone about this shit, two because if this carried on he’d find it hard to conceal the world’s most awkward erection.

True. Sweetest eye candy around. Brendon sighed dreamily at that, admittedly. Good to know Ryan was just as smitten as he was (though, again, he didn’t need any telling). Then, though, he decided to riskily test just how far Ryan was willing to go with all this; Brendon was reckless at best and it was just lucky that Ryan wasn’t quite at the state of freely displaying lewd pictures of his boyfriend for the world to see. Hey. For me. And me only. Get your own. Okay... that was hot. Brendon cursed himself and Ryan and alcohol and god all at once. He cleared his throat nervously and ran a hand through his hair, staring desperately at the roof of the car. Ryan was lying completely on the seat at this point, pulling against the seatbelt. Closest he’s come to being vers is when he’s in a ‘power bottom’ mood. Oh, shit. Brendon went scarlet. ”I don’t think we need to know,” His voice was high, strained. Listen, listen- No. Brendon did t want to. He was frozen by horror, unable to speak, anticipating whatever would come next. Pull his hair just right, lift him for s better angle, he’ll fall apart. He’s submissive. Zack was laughing. Brendon shifted uncomfortably in his seat, catching the eye of the horrified driver in the rear view mirror and mouthing a desperate apology.

It’s a good thing. ”Okay, Ryan, I think we-“ You wouldn’t expect it, ‘cause he’s so confident... God, he has every right to be. Aw, sweet. But no, fuck, he couldn’t be distracted. He’s stunning. There’s this little... his V-line, you can trace along there, the velvety skin, and, like, he wears his jeans so low on his hips, so low, it’s like art, it’s so fuckin’ hot. Why couldn’t he be like this when they were alone? If the situation was right, Brendon would, as nasty as it was, be on his knees by now. Oh well, Ryan’s loss. He was still bright crimson, covering his face with his hands. This was ridiculous- Brendon was never embarrassed, ever. He was so distracted by his own mortification that he tuned out of what Ryan was saying for a bit, it all kind of blurred together, but then- Hey, I haven’t even told you about his face.

Brendon sat up and turned desperately, tried to coax Ryan back into a sitting position. ”Ryan, Jesus, it’s me. It’s Brendon. Look at me, stop being thirsty, I’m here.”
Even if that was true, I mind. It was reassuring to know that Ryan was unshakeably loyal even when absolutely wasted, but honestly, Brendon didn’t need the reassurance. He had enough confidence in Ryan and their insanely good relationship that such things would never be a problem for them- they were perfectly compatible on all levels and there was nothing another romantic parter could provide that they couldn’t already provide to eachother. Even in this bizarre situation, with Ryan running his pretty mouth (which Brendon was trying hard not to kiss), all Brendon could think about was how hopelessly in love he was with him. And it was exactly the same the other way around. How could he ask for more? Ryan was everything he ever wanted. The fact he thought that even now, when Ryan was so out of it he didn’t even recognise him, was just proof that they were, well. Soulmates. Although they didn’t go throwing that word around often. ”You’re sweet, he’s lucky to have you.”

You’re lame. That was reminiscing of their sober, petty squabbles. It was very rare that they had full-blown, serious arguments, thank god. And whenever they did, they both felt so terrible and lost being in bed step with their lover, that it was resolved lightning fast. No trouble in paradise for them. He steadied Ryan to prevent him from fully slumping over and evenly met his misplaced glare, though it sucked when Ryan moved away. It’s me, baby, he thought desperately, blinking at him. Look at me, I’m right here. Ryan clearly didn’t catch on to his silent pleading and was showing him a picture of himself. He didn’t know what Ryan expected- jealousy from the supposed stranger? Awe at the beauty of this man? It was just him, not even a very good picture, Ryan just thought it was ‘cute’. He thought about all the much more attractive pictures of himself that were for Ryan’s eyes only, wondering whether he could prompt him into showing him those. Honestly, he hoped not- imagine if he found out Ryan was so open about them while he was drunk. Brendon was relatively secure about his body but that didn’t mean he wanted random people seeing very private photos.

Pursuing Ryan’s colourful imagination and hoping to get more of an insight into how he made his boyfriend feel, Brendon urged him on, and it seemed he was more than happy to oblige. I have to walk a couple inches behind him. Even if we’re holding hands. He was aware. Ryan really thought he was slick. Brendon smirked, couldn’t help it, but felt a very strong impulse to take his hand and hold it once Ryan had mentioned such a display of affection. It’s, like... the law. I need the view. Secretly, Brendon didn’t understand the general obsession that people (fans) had with his ass. Ryan’s, yeah, he got that, because- well, you get the picture, but. Still, he was flattered, if it wasn’t obvious by the slight red flush dusting his cheekbones. ”He sounds like your eye candy,” He mused, glancing at Ryan’s phone again, still wondering about those certain pictures he had saved. Or were they saved? God knew, how thirsty Ryan actually was was often a mystery even to Brendon. ”Surely you have photographic evidence.”

Like, he wears them on stage... and how am I supposed to fuck him when he’s doing a, like, forever-long show? It made Brendon start to sweat knowing that such a thing was in Ryan’s mind whenever he was up there performing, and for a second he was stuck in an enamoured, hungry daze, before he remembered that Zack was literally right in front of him. Oh, lord. ”Uh-huh,” He muttered, trying to hurry Ryan on to a different, less explicitly horny subject. And he takes his shirt off onstage... In fairness, that wasn’t even intended to give people something to salivate over. He just got ridiculously hot and sweaty on stage to the point where he often sweated profusely over people’s pride flags during girls/girls/boys. Still, Ryan was his boyfriend. Of course he was going to like it. I want to touch- Brendon smiled, because everyone was allowed to look, only Ryan has that privilege. -every inch of him, he looks so fucking good up there, he looks good all the time. Okay, too sweet. Dirty talk he could handle, sweetness he couldn’t.

I think God made me... and then he was like, you know what... he needs a bottom. So he made Brendon. He’s my other half, man, I love him so much. Alright, too far, too far, Zack and the driver didn’t have to know that Brendon was dismally submissive, that wasn’t something he was willing to share. But Ryan was speaking too fast for him to interrupt. ”I’m sure he loves you too, I- are you sure he’s a bottom, he sounds more vers to me...”
Although they probably didn’t see it like that in the moment, Zack and their driver were probably lucky. After all, it could be worse- a) Brendon could be drunk, too, and everyone knew they were barely capable of being appropriate even when they weren’t intoxicated, or b) Ryan could recognise Brendon as his beloved significant other and Brendon would be doing very little to put a stop to his affection. In fact, he’d be encouraging such behaviour. The two of them together at the best of times was completely lawless. So, the two in the front were lucky- but for Brendon, who had missed his boyfriend since he’d been kicked out of the venue, it kind of sucked because Ryan wouldn’t even let him steal a kiss, even if the reasoning was ridiculously sweet and flattering. Look at me, he thought, reproachfully; if you think I’m so pretty how come you don’t even realise who I am? Still, it was endearing. After a moment Brendon realised contentedly that he couldn’t be annoyed about it if he tried; it was all just amusing. Brendon couldn’t wait to inform Ryan of exactly how wasted he was, so wasted that he didn’t realise he was sat in the car next to the love of his life.

Even so, he was surprised and a little disgruntled about that initial rejection, panicking for a split second and worrying he’d done something gravely wrong, somehow. No- Ryan was just a drunk dumbass. Yes, really. Brendon pursed his lips and his eyes followed Ryan’s hand as he removed it from his chest. Then, he tried to make eye contact, but Ryan could barely even think straight, never mind see straight. ”I’m sure he wouldn’t mind one little kiss,” He murmured, because although it was very unlikely Ryan would even entertain that for a second, Brendon was pretty desperate. Quickly giving up and realising that he wouldn’t exactly be very happy if Ryan did kiss somebody he thought wasn’t Brendon, he moved on, choosing to sarcastically compliment him instead- wasn’t he such a lucky guy, the proud partner of someone who didn’t even recognise him. How sweet. Yeah. A small smile crept up to tug at the corner of his mouth. That’s how he talks. I love that. Funny, Ryan always told him it was annoying when he spoke like a ‘straight fuckboy’. This was interesting new information. ”He sounds pretty lame.”

When Brendon tried to amuse himself by asking Ryan if his boyfriend (him) was pretty, he didn’t realise he’d prompt such an animated reaction from a man who was clearly about five seconds from falling asleep at any given moment. As he started to rummage around, Brendon felt a strong impulse to run his fingers through his hair and lean in to plant a kiss at the corner of his mouth, but Ryan clearly wasn’t fond of ‘cheating’. How could one be so sweet and so, so stupid? Pretty. Brendon blinked in surprise as Ryan lurched over into the middle seat, shot a hand out to steady him a little. He’s fucking- he’s the hottest man alive, I’m telling you. ...Ryan was never shy with the compliments, but he hadn’t expected such adamancy; not that he was complaining. Brendon never denied an opportunity to have his ego stroked, especially or even specifically by his boyfriend. ”Nah, I’m looking st the hottest man alive right now,” He grinned, again resisting the urge to hold onto his jaw and tilt him into a kiss. I first saw him, and I swear... Whatever Ryan was about to say, Brendon wasn’t convinced in the slightest and he didn’t even have to finish. Casting his thoughts back to have he looked when they met- he was a greasy teenager with an atrocious haircut and the most obnoxious personality on the planet. Then again, Ryan was similar by means of greasiness and haircut quality. So he supposed, to eachother, at the time, they were relatively hot, or something. Brendon didn’t get it. He looked back and was mortified by their collective appearance.

Ryan was thrusting his phone into Brendon’s view and he looked down expectantly at his screen. A picture of the two of them, naturally- a new one, Ryan had clearly recently changed it. Look. He’s the... the one on the right. I’m right here, darling, He thought, nodding slowly in acknowledgment. ”Yup. That’s him.” You can’t tell from this, ‘cause it’s, like, it’s just us, but if you could see his ass, oh my God. Oh. Alright. Zero to a hundred really fast- but Brendon wasn’t complaining, he broke out into a wide grin and raised an eyebrow suggestively, evil little cogs whirring in his mind as he planned out how he was going to exploit Ryan’s currently loose tongue. ”What about it?” He wears these tight jeans that make it so hard not to stare. Brendon knew just the ones and was absolutely delighted- he was even heating up, not because of embarassment because Zack was right fucking there, but because Ryan always managed to make him flustered somehow. And, like, think about anything but, you know. ”Like what?” He asked immediately, fully willing to risk Zack choking him later on.
River knew what his father was doing here, but wasn’t exactly sure why he had to turn up- he knew absolutely no one and wasn’t even the slightest bit involved in his father’s business. He had no plans to be. In fact, whenever somebody had tried to explain the whole ‘Rothschild-Livingston’ feud story to him, he kind of just tuned out because he didn’t care. Personally, he thought it was fucking stupid and didn’t the two grown men have bigger problems than have petty fights over which ridiculously rich man was the richest? Didn’t the world have more important things to care about than the privileged kids of said grown men? Apparently not. River was sick of it, but he wasn’t exactly confrontational and didn’t tend to argue just because it was exhausting to argue with his persistent father; so most of the time he just hung around in the background, or else when he wasn’t being shadowed by John, he used this platform he had been thrust upon to actually talk about the shit he cared about. A little cliche, really- some rich boy pretending he was hard-done to and becoming an environmental and social activist to make up for it.

At least River was self-aware. It was a fancy occasion that he and his family had been spitefully invited to; John had reminded him that when they were at his tailors and getting suits fitted. River nodded along, having barely paid attention, and just bought the first one he had even tried on. Plain black, relatively inexpensive. Before they’d left River had stared disinterestedly at his reflection in the mirror, trying to figure out Gay the hell he should do with his hair, which had grown a little too long at this point (he reminded himself to get a haircut soon). Eventually he just swept it back a little and let it do whatever the fuck it wanted. Again, cliche. Once he was ready he’d again quietly asked why he even had to come, but his dead just huffed, clearly flustered and more wound up about the whole thing than he cared to admit, and insisted that the invitation was addressed to the ‘Rothschild household’- that included River and all of his siblings. Great. So there was no getting out of it. With barely the twitch of an eyebrow he climbed into the car, leaning against the window. Honestly, he just wanted to go to sleep.

On the way there, he did just that, slipping briefly into unconsciousness. Nobody else around him seemed alarmed- his younger brother just glanced at him every so often to make sure he was alright. Before they knew it, they were at the venue, some ridiculous banquet hall, and River could see the envy and frustration burning in John’s eyes. He rolled his own and stepped out of the car once it came to a stop, standing aside so the rest of his family could pour out of the car, including his dad, who was trying much too hard to look dignified, so much so that it was obvious how mortified he was by this whole thing. But it would have been even more mortifying not to show up, or something. River barely cared. He just trailed behind the rest of his family, running a hand through his hair to move it out from behind his glasses, and lingered for a second awkwardly while John and the Livingston monarch (George?) reunited very tensely at the door.

His eyes drifted. He was bored already of this pompous, melodramatic shit. From the corner of his eye, he saw someone- two people, even, two boys, he thought, though one of them was kind of androgynous. They looked about his age. River recognised neither of them and just blinked as the shorter one made eye contact and held it as he pushed out of the door with his back. It seemed like the dark-haired one was looking at him, too, and River was a little disconcerted- but also his interested was piqued, especially now that they had revealed an escape to him. Looking back at his family, his siblings were mingling a ways off together, his dad and Livingston were still talking, and their wives were muttering to eachother but keeping a keen eye on their husbands. Wonderful. Nobody would miss him. Waiting a few more long moments just to be sure, River then weaved between people who hadn’t yet caught wind of his arrival and after a pause by the exit, he left the building the same way that the two others had.

Immediately he heard voices and stood close to the wall like he was trying to stay hidden. He wasn’t- it was just subconscious. River tried not to listen in because he knew he’d get half of a conversation with no context and that was good for nobody. What he did hear, though, was nonsense that he didn’t even begin to try and piece together; ‘fuck me eyes’, ‘you’re very expressive’, ‘I want you to fuck off’. What he did get that was tangible, though, were two names. The tall, dark one was Scott, the shorter and prettier one was- well, it began with A. River cleared his throat and took a step forward, shoving his hands in his pockets. ”Hey. I saw you guys come outside and- well, it seemed smarter than taking part in the circus.” He twisted around and cast a glance back at the door, then tilted his head a little and fixed his eyes on... Ari? ”This might sound a little rude, but I feel like I should know who you are.” A pause. ”And I don’t.”
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