Neve

i could be better but baby

Of course he didn’t want to break up with Ryan- he was in love with him, for God’s sake, and the thought of being without him was terrifying- but he was stubborn and volatile and so unused to people being concerned about his wellbeing that he mistook it for criticism and an attempt to control him. Deep down he knew that Ryan was generally just concerned about his health and cared about him deeply enough that he didn’t want Brendon to harm himself- but for the most part Brendon was adamant that he was being manipulative and hypocritical and defensive enough that he compared his adoring lover to his emotionally abusive ex. It was frankly ridiculous but in the moment, it made all the sense in the world to Brendon. So, though he felt his throat close and his breaths shorten when Ryan handed over the apartment key and things really seemed final, he was completely set on not apologising or compromising and so it seemed this really was the end of the dynamic duo they had formed. Over his goddamn drinking habits, he thought scornfully, why did Ryan have to make such a big deal over something Brendon had been doing for so long.

That said he was still in denial, hoping to god Ryan was bluffing and was moments away from sheepishly backing down. He asked, waveringly, if this was real, were they over, and could barely meet Ryan’s eyes. I- I don’t want to talk to you when you’re treating me like shit.. Brendon perked up instantly in protest, like a puppy about to whine, his mouth forming a shallow pout as his eyebrows drew together in frustration. How was he the one treating Ryan like shit, here? This was Ryan’s fault for being such an uptight bastard. He was going to interrupt but Ryan beat him to it. So think about what you want between us. As was usual for them, Brendon’s mind went to inappropriate and humorous places despite the seriousness of the situation, which showed that it still hadn’t sunk in that Ryan was serious. He was going to say something like, ‘preferably less space and no clothes’, but even Brendon was wise enough to know when to shut up.

”I don’t understand,” He murmured instead, distantly, looking crestfallen because- he wanted Ryan, what else, Ryan had just ruined it for him, that’s all. ”I don’t want this.” A pause, Brendon swallowed and steeled his expression. ”But you haven’t really given us a chance, here.” I’m not making things easy for you anymore, I’m done with that. A scowl had formed from the initial stoniness of his expression and Brendon was going to snap, then, snarl that Ryan had no right to say it was always Ryan making sacrifices, making things easy, doing the hard work, because Brendon had changed and given up a lot in order to keep Ryan by his side and that was indisputable, in his opinion. And here Ryan was, leaving the trouble between them in Brendon’s name. Still, he panicked. Nothing had ever been entirely his responsibility to deal with and Brendon wasn’t confident of his ability to win Ryan back if worst came to worst and they really were no longer together.

A universe where they weren’t in a relationship didn’t make sense and Brendon would do anything to stop that from happening. In theory. In practise, he didn’t even recognise what he had done so badly wrong that had caused Ryan to suggest fully leaving the apartment and then their relationship- especially since only this morning they had been the perfect image of love, curled in eachother’s arms, comfortable and basking in a sense of warm belonging, belonging to someone, to something. And if he did recognise it, he was way too stubborn and proud to admit his catastrophic mistake. A million thoughts rushed through his head and solutions raced through his mind but he simply settled on a stern, quiet, sad, ‘get out’. He was holding onto the piles of paperwork and feeling about two inches tall, watching Ryan walk towards the door and following him at a distance, bottom lip trapped so hard between his teeth that he had drawn blood and tasted iron.

Bren, I’m serious. If you don’t fix this, I’m done. Just think it through. He stopped when Ryan did, gaze flicking from Ryan to the door behind him that, when he walked through it, would signal the end of their relationship, he supposed. He was thinking it through and every bit of common sense he had was screaming fix it, apologise, you fucked up- but it was battling between the pure stubborn anger dominating his person. The victor of the two warring sides emerged as Ryan’s hand touched the door handle, when Brendon hoarsely and, to his own surprise, burst out with, ”Wait,” and then fell into silence. Oh, fucking hell. He didn’t even know what he planned to say. Brendon looked down at his feet and swallowed. ”I love you,” He said, softly, but very unsure because his voice cracked midway through. ”Please- don’t.”

be cruel to me, ‘cause i’m a fool for you

Brendon was so... out of touch with reality. Which was strange, because. Out of the two of them, Brendon had probably suffered the most difficult life so far- struggling to pay rent in the middle of New York, supporting both himself and his recovering alcoholic best friend, nursing the beginnings of an alcohol problem and being consecutively fired from all his jobs within a short amount of time. Ryan, however, though he knew all about being a broke student, had been richer than Brendon could ever have dreamed for a good few years now, and was living out in the countryside in his overgrown mansion, alone. At least, until Brendon arrived. Thinking about this, Brendon darkly thought that it should be Ryan who was so lost in ridiculous fantasy.

But no. It was Brendon who, when things had been going so well, they were best friends, he was earning more than enough money to support himself, and he’d been living in a freaking mansion for the past year, had told his literal employer that he was in love with him. Which, in theory, was already bad- but when Ryan hadn’t even replied, fuck. Brendon felt his heart stop when Ryan just stared at him, eyes wide, steely-faced , unsure, awkward. God, and he had every right to be uncomfortable- brendon was disillusioned. He hadn’t been in a proper relationship in years and now the first man he took a shine to he claimed to be in love with. He was that deprived of attention and affection that he latched on to this poor man and ruined more than almost a year of friendship by telling him that he loved him.

Brendon truly hated himself for it- and for the first time in a long time since meeting Ryan Rowe, he felt incredibly, torturously lonely. He’d blown yet another opportunity due to his volatile and unstable emotional and mental state, and it’s not even like it was just his own life he had fucked up- Spencer was relying on this income, and now, when he was undoubtedly fired or ‘let go’ or told awkwardly that his services were no longer needed (which, technically, they hadn’t been for a while, because Ryan was onto a new series already), he had screwed Spence over, too. Although, Brendon was going to be selfish anyway- he had decided, about 30 seconds after telling Ryan he loved him, that since it went unacknowledged, he was going to leave on his own accord because it’s not like he could pretend that didn’t happen.

After he had made a hasty, choked excuse to leave Ryan where he stood, dumbfounded, he had escaped to his bedroom, climbing onto his bed and drawing himself in close to the headboard, resting his head back against it with a long, drawn-out sigh. A few minutes of shaky breathing and intense self hatred gave way into lack of surety- was he even really in love, like he claimed? Was it just years of romantic deprivation that lead him to think having a close friend meant falling in love? In thinking this, he was more trying to convince himself that his brain was just playing tricks, he didn’t know what love was, he didn’t recognise that it was just admiration and friendship. But. Brendon came to conclusion that he really was in love when he decided he was going to leave and at that moment is heart felt hollow and it ached dully. Having an unrequited love hurt more than Brendon conjuring up feelings that weren’t real.

He was still on his bed, his face damp and warm. After a few moments he stood and headed towards the en-suite bathroom, hand scrabbling clumsily for the light switch as he stood in front of the mirror and stared at his reflection, eyes bloodshot, mouth dry and cracked. No wonder Ryan didn’t feel the same way, fuck. He was a constant mess. Brendon curled his fingers punishingly in his own hair and grimaced- it was greasy, he’d been hiding it under a hat for too long and now it felt like a fat fryer. Lovely. Sniffing, he pulled his shirt over his head and stripped down the rest of his clothes, before getting into the shower and standing under the hot water, trying to wash away the tension in his muscles.

Twenty minutes later and he was out. He wrapped a towel around his waist and pushed his wet hair back out of his eyes before walking back out into his bedroom. Brendon was about to drop the towel but then there was a knock at his door and he swallowed the lump in his throat as it tightened and closed up. Was it Ryan, telling him to leave? Or would he have to tell Ryan he was going to leave? He didn’t know what would hurt more. After a second wondering whether he should get dressed first, he decided he didn’t have the energy and just walked over to his bedroom door, knuckles going white on the handle as he took a deep breath. Then he opened the door, and tried to meet Ryan’s eyes, but. His gaze ended up fixed on the floor. ”Yeah?” He said, intending his voice to be clear and strong, but it came out more of a submissive whisper.

more than just a dream

River tried his best to use his platform to only talk about he things he thought were important, but even when he did, he felt like an idiot and was never really confident, even if it was something he passionately believed in- and, when he was asked to talk about himself, his personal life, he clammed up completely, not out of a disdain for celebrity culture or whatever, but because he was shy. And didn’t know why, for the life of him, people would be interested in his life- nothing ever happened, apart from when, you know, he was dragged along to these ridiculous events and just went along with it because he wasn’t exactly the confrontational type. His father had asked him to pick out a new suit for the occasion and he did so. He’d ignored the suggestion of a haircut.

He wasn’t camera shy, per say- though to be honest River had never felt fully at ease in his whole life- and when spoken to, he responded plainly and honestly. He was even willing to gratify photographers, who thought he was some kind of cryptic, dreamy woodland creature, with a few pretentious photoshoots, and that’s why, for some reason, he was so popular among his own generation- his family, his muted and gentle brand of activism, and the fact he looked at all times like he was a melancholy poet or artist lost in the wilderness. It was ridiculous. River didn’t know what all the fuss was about- he barely paid any attention to his own reflection and allowed photographers to pick whatever they thought looked good. He was nothing special, and for some reason, people wouldn’t leave him alone.

Even amongst the more rich and even more famous, people recognised River before he them, and it was startling. It had been a while since he’d attended an event like this and he was already anticipating being cornered by someone until an opportunity to escape in the form of some kid beckoning him over caught his eye, and, after hesitating for mere moments, he followed, running a hand apprehensively through his long hair that perhaps was, in fact, due for a cut. He pushed open the doors and stepped out into the dim light, reaching up to straighten his tie subconsciously as he strolled forwards, bearing witness to what seemed to be a small argument. At first he thought nothing of it, but. The two men looked guilty once he announced himself. River raised his eyebrows, his expression otherwise neutral. That’s the plan. Avoiding the idiots. River grinned. ”Sorry, I’ll go back inside.”

It hit him then that he hadn’t even introduced himself and he had no idea who these two men were- the shorter one, with lighter hair, had an unfairly, androgynously pretty face, and River felt like he should recognise it. The taller of the two had dark hair and dark eyes and he was handsome enough that River felt unnerved looking at him for too long, so he flicked his eyes from one to the other to avoid lingering eye contact. The latter was completely unfamiliar, but apparently he was right in his guess that he should know who the former was- when he asked, bracing himself to apologise for forgetting someone, the taller one looked on the verge of laughter. Shit. His only company for the shitty evening and he’d already offended the prettiest one.

I’m Ari Livingston. Ari... Oh, Livingston. Right, made sense. River shifted a little, suddenly uncomfortable, wondering whether this guy hated him and it had been a mistake coming out here. People were so volatile and unpredictable. Our fathers have hated eachother for about a decade and a half. River smiled, earnest- at least he was upfront- and shook his hand. ”River.” Scott Whitaker, he’s one of my dad’s investor’s kids. You can ignore him. He’s a dipshit. He nodded at Scott with a smile, and took his hand again- his handshake was stronger than Ari’s, he noted, looking up at him briefly. Nice to meet you. ”You too.”

Glad we can both agree this feud is ridiculous. River nodded, running a hand through his hair and exhaling, looking back towards the building. ”This party is ridiculous, I’d rather be doing- anything else. I feel stupid, look at this suit.” He gestured to himself, exasperated. He paused and looked between the two again. “You, uh, look like you belong here.” He murmured, nodding towards Scott, smiling only a little, then directed another comment towards Ari. “Whereas I feel like you and I are maybe on the same page.”

glitter dancing on the skin

During the car ride to the hotel, which had felt unnaturally and insanely long, Ryan had been just as much as a handful as when they had to, between them, half-lead, half-carry him up to Brendon’s room (yes, Brendon’s, because a) Brendon was apparently now responsible for getting his drunken lover to bed safely, and b) Ryan had insisted. Repeatedly). Brendon had the difficult job of trying to convince his wasted boyfriend that talking about the sounds Brendon let slip while they made love wasn’t appropriate and that in the back of a chauffeured car on a highway was not the best place for a quickie, as desirable as it seemed to Ryan at that particular moment. You’d think, after so long together, that Brendon wouldn’t be surprised by Ryan at this point- but he’d never seen him like this, or more specifically, heard him talk so passionately and shamelessly about the things he could usually barely even think about while he was sober without flushing a startling scarlet.

The first emotion Brendon felt when Ryan firmly rejected his advances was utter confusion and even a little upset before he realised that his boyfriend was just simply too far gone to even recognise him. Some lover, huh- Brendon then coaxed some interesting words out of him, enjoying making Zack very uncomfortable and playing along up until the point that he was being out as a dismally submissive bottom and that’s when he decided to draw the line. Embarrassed by Ryan’s newfound transparency all of a sudden, he desperately tried to catch his attention, holding onto him tightly and forcing him to make direct eye contact until that flicker of recognition flashed in his eyes and a second later, Ryan was unfastening his seatbelt and climbing over with haphazard joy. Suddenly, after a frigidly cold few minutes with his intoxicated lover who thought he was a stranger, they were Brendon and Ryan again, although Ryan being perched in Brendon’s lap was an unusual sight.

Thus from that Ryan tried to convince Brendon to go down on him right there and Brendon still wasn’t sure if he meant it- he pondered and turned it over in his mind as he lay on his back amongst heaps of pillows and sheets that he’d been too tired to toss aside after he finally got Ryan to bed. It was cloudy out, so the room was still dim despite it being rather late into the morning- 10:30, near enough; luckily, they didn’t have anywhere to be today. Luckily, specifically, for Ryan. Brendon turned onto his side and, with his cheek pressed into the pillow, stared at Ryan, who was fast asleep on his stomach, the sheets pushed down to his lower back. He’d been a fucking nightmare to get to bed, but- god, he was so perfect. Brendon took the time before he woke up and undoubtedly started complaining to admire him; but this came with the disadvantage of it being much harder not to touch him. It was too tempting- his skin looked so warm and smooth and Brendon was surprisingly cold.

As was likely, Brendon soon gave in and lifted his head from the pillow before shifting closer to his sleeping lover, pressing his face into the crook between his neck and shoulder, snaking his arms around his waist and pulling himself closer, anchoring himself to Ryan comfortably. He inhaled- he smelled good, which Brendon did not expect. He didn’t even know how much Ryan had had to drink last night, just that it was enough for him to be loose-lipped enough to talk about exactly what Brendon’s mouth was good for. Just at the thought, he smiled fondly against his skin, but then- it hit him that he was kind of annoyed at Ryan for saying so much that was personal and intimate to Zack (who he really didn’t want to see this morning) and some random driver, the poor guy. Then again, he didn’t pride himself in being a hypocrite and recalled plenty of times he’d talked about Ryan’s dick and otherwise, sober and drunk alike. So he let it go, deciding on a more efficient revenge than some form of silent treatment.

If he knew Ryan, he’d be mortified to find out and/or remember what exactly he’d said while under the influence in that car the night previous. Tender, but now with a more cunning grin, he snuggled further against Ryan’s warm body, at least considerate enough to make sure he at least had a gentle awakening- he was already rolling his eyes thinking about how much of a baby Ryan would be with such a monster hangover. And he always accused Brendon of being a princess- when Ryan was sick it was like Brendon suddenly had a young child who was playing it up for attention. That said, Brendon was exactly the same. Therefore, when they were both sick, which often happened, they just kind of stewed in their own unwellness- though it was favourable because at least they could kiss.

”Baby?” He murmured, pressing a kiss against Ryan’s skin. “You alive, Ry? Only just?” Brendon tried to stifle a giggle that was threatening to spill from his lips and only partially succeeded, snickering quietly under his breathe and snaking an arm around to like Ryan in the cheek persistently. He saw his eyes open and raised his eyebrows triumphantly. ”Idiot. Wake up, your incredibly sexy boyfriend is here. Drink me in.”

i could be better but baby

Of course Ryan didn’t just care about sex. In fact, out of every major benefit of being in a romantic and committed relationship, that was the least important thing to Ryan- which, to someone like Brendon, very in tune with his own sexuality, was frustrating sometimes. But, hey, it wasn’t like he was some celibate. Brendon’s energy and passion tended to rub off on people, and- he and Ryan were head over heels in love and hopelessly attracted to one another. As different as they were, things worked- though admittedly they’d had to try hard, because nothing was ever simple, and love alone doesn’t necessarily make a relationship healthy and functioning. But being as in love with one another as they were, it made it so much easier to try and Brendon had so much to lose now, a wonderful man who loved him unconditionally and held him at night and wrote him dumb messages in the fogged-up mirror and made him feel irreplaceable. Yet here he was, accusing him of only caring about fucking, for no reason other than that he was too proud and defiant to accept that some of his behaviour wasn’t healthy or appropriate.

And Brendon had compared to Ryan to Shane- just because he knew it would get to him, even if he didn’t show it, and just because it was the worst insult he could think of because Shane had really been that bad. Not just an asshole ex, he’d been abusive; Ryan, his loving and sweet and astounding boyfriend was nothing like him and he didn’t deserve such a low blow, especially when it was so ridiculously far from being accurate. Everything Ryan had said so far was right and Brendon was too trapped in his own fantasy world where nobody cared enough about his health to tell him that maybe drinking that much, or maybe that getting off his head right before a family dinner wasn’t a good idea. All his life he’d just been enabled and now here his man was, perfectly acceptably expressing concern and carefully criticising the way Brendon actively chose to spend his spare time. He didn’t have an addiction of any kind. He just didn’t know what ‘excess’ meant and he didn’t care enough about himself to do anything potentially harmful in moderation.

So, really, Ryan was well within reason, deciding not to compromise and instead just making the move to leave, because Brendon was being a dickhead and negotiating with him thus far, trying to get through to his proud little mind, was proving difficult. So it was understandable- but Brendon, right now, worked up and sensitive and dramatic, saw it as some kind of drastic draw of the line, panicked when he saw that Ryan was serious and hoped desperately that this wasn’t a breakup, it was just a fight, all couples had those, right, it wasn’t a big deal. But Ryan was collecting his belongings that were strewn casually around Brendon’s apartment and it was a big deal and Brendon’s eyes had widened, he shrank in on himself, drawing his hands further back into the sleeves of the hoodie he was wearing, his mouth pursing into a small pout as he watched Ryan clear out evidence of their relationship. Now terrified, he asked if Ryan was for real, but kept his voice relatively steady.

There was no answer- just an eyebrow raise, and Brendon’s eyes darted across his face urgently, trying to figure out what that meant when Ryan had turned again to pick up another jacket. You told me to leave. Brendon scowled. ”You brought it up first,” He mumbled. I don’t wanna come back ‘til you’re ready to suck up your pride. It seemed that Ryan was going to be gone for a while because Brendon almost retched at the thought of swallowing his pride. I’m sick of being the one to compromise. Now trying to push away the increasingly powerful feeling of heartbreak, which sort of felt like someone was hacking at his heartstrings with a cleaver, Brendon stiffened and drew his eyebrows in and figured that being meaner was the only way to keep his walls up about this. Ryan was breaking up with him, this was the worst thing ever. So he demanded Ryan’s key.

They stared at eachother for a long moment, both of them clearly miserable and angry and hating this but Brendon stubbornly not apologising and Ryan (rightfully so) not compromising- but then Ryan’s keys were flashing in his hands and Brendon had closed his fingers around the cold metal pressed against his palm. He didn’t look at it, just shoved it into his pocket hastily. There was a beat but then Ryan was shoving the stack of work and papers into his arms and Brendon was too stunned to refuse taking them- he just stared at the stack, then back up at Ryan, and swallowed. What an abrupt, horrible end to their relationship, if- Is that all? Brendon could tell he wanted him to move so he stepped aside, steadying himself against a wall, trying not to shake with frustration and upset. ”Is that it, then? Are you- we’re breaking up?” Just this morning they’d been curled up in bed together, Brendon pressing lazy kisses along Ryan’s collarbone and Ryan tracing patterns into his hips. This fucking sucked. ”I- get out.”

i could be better but baby

Then let me be clear. It was always difficult for Brendon to stay truly angry and vindictive during an argument with Ryan, even if he said some pretty harsh shit- and a lot of it was because, when Ryan was really pissed, he was kind of hot. He couldn’t provoke that kind of fiery behaviour from Ryan just by telling him that, coaxing him to play at angry- Ryan couldn’t pretend to be mad at Brendon if the world depended on it- the only way to get this kind of reaction was for it to be, well. Organic, for lack of a better word. This time, though, instead of irritating the life out of Ryan by displaying how instantly horny he could become from the stupidest of things, he was just. Pissed. Defensive. There was nothing sexy about being criticised in such a disappointed way. You’re not an alcoholic, and I’m not stupid enough to think so. Then why is this such a big deal, Brendon wanted to demand, meeting Ryan’s critical and steely gaze and hating that he could stay more composed than he could. So he threw out baseless accusations. Explain to me how. Brendon opened his mouth instantly, but- Ryan wasn’t a big drinker. He barely touched coke at all. The only thing that was a relatively common ‘vice’ was weed, so- he had nothing.

Do I chainsmoke, binge drink, do a line every night? No, you’re too boring, he said dryly in his head, raising his eyebrows but then firmly knitting them into a frown; but that was juvenile, Ryan was just. Normal. Apparently. Brendon didn’t have much experience with normal. His bottom lip was stuck out slightly almost into a pout, like a child being scolded. Tell me what I don’t do in moderation. ”I dunno, that stick in your ass never seems to fucking come out,” Brendon snapped, sick to death of this idiot deciding that just because they were dating or whatever that he could dictate how Brendon spent his own money (well) and his own time. He was well aware he was behaving like a rich brat, he knew he was a goddamn princess and he was sick of Ryan behaving like he should have these great morals and spend his time nursing sick squirrels back to health or something. The abnormal amount of wealth and privilege was starting to shine through properly, it seemed, and later Brendon would retch at how fucking superior he behaved for someone who accused Ryan of being too stuck-up.

Then suddenly Ryan was all baby, a term of endearment that usually made him melt, and Brendon decided he was sick of his annoying assistant’s voice, so he spat out an insult, which caused Ryan to immediately quieten. Brendon looked smug and angry, some drowsy cocktail of the two, but then he saw that Ryan was smirking dangerously and that was usually the kind of thing that would have him willing, but now- he was sort of frightened, but even then he didn’t consider that maybe he’d stepped over some kind of line and he should definitely apologise. Manipulative. ”Just like everyone else who gets this fucking close to me. You told me I should be more trusting and here you are, trying to change me- but you don’t care really, do you, as long as you get to fuck me, like Shane.” This had no grounds or even roots in truth whatsoever and Brendon was just saying stuff mindlessly that he thought would hit a nerve and gain him an advantage. He didn’t realise he was just being pathetic and embarrassing.

I’m allowed to show concern for you without it being entitlement. Recognise the difference. Brendon was still bristling and he watched Ryan, who looked kind of defeated at this point, give his ultimatum. Both of them were so riled up that even in this white-hot angry stage Brendon knew the best thing to do was just to separate and cool off. But he couldn’t even do that amicably- he spitefully permitted, no, encouraged, demanded, Ryan to leave his fucking home. Ryan was staring at him and Brendon puffed up his chest like he’d never lost a war- but then Ryan was up and he lost his metaphorical footing when his much taller boyfriend circled the counter island and penned him in against the kitchen surface. There was a spark of heat, sure, but not enough to melt the iciness between them right now. Just let me get my things so I don’t have to come back. Oh. Honestly, Brendon hadn’t meant it. Ryan was usually the one who waved the white flag between them. This was- different. Brendon didn’t like it, wavered uncertainly, unsure, meeting Ryan’s eyes and then following him with his gaze as he turned and walked away.

He was expecting some sort of compromise but clearly that- wasn’t where this was going. He could be bluffing, but- Brendon was scared now, springing into action and following him into his own bedroom, watching uncertainly. There were an assortment of hoodies strewn about and Brendon felt his heart twist when Ryan picked them up- wrapping his arms around himself tightly, he hoped Ryan wouldn’t notice that he was wearing one right now and watched sullenly, eyes wide. ”Wh-” He didn’t mean to sound so desperate. ”What, are you breaking up with me? Am I not- good enough for you?” He looked very small, suddenly, Ryan’s hoodie sleeves longer than his arms, which were wrapped around himself as he stood in the doorway. But. He couldn’t let himself look that vulnerable. ”Alright, then. Fine. Give me your key.”

i could be better but baby

I didn’t say that. Brendon scowled. In his eyes- and those eyes belonged to a person who had rarely been told no for the entirety of his life, childhood to adolescence and beyond, due to his background and privilege- any criticism, even supposedly coming from a good, well-intentioned place, was a malicious and personal attack on his very existence. As far as Brendon was concerned, the way he was living his life was fine. He didn’t take into account the fact that his life was much better off with Ryan in it, and better yet Ryan in it as his lover- though he was creative and fluid and energised, Brendon surprisingly saw many things in plain black and white. He was stubborn, and dignified, and too proud for his own good. Plus, he had never really cared about his health. He was reckless and impulsive and- also self-destructive, though he’d never admit to actually want to cause himself harm. The way he lived in itself was actively destroying him but he’d been like that so long he just thought it was normal, or, if not normal, doing no harm. It was fun, and Brendon thrives on fleeting pleasures and white-hot shocks of adrenaline. Dramatic, but. As an emotionally neglected child who was shown affection through money only, he subconsciously started acting out because he was desperate for some, any kind of attention.

And here it was, that toxic and dangerous trait, a taste for the dangerous, snapping at his heels and following him closely into adulthood, like a dog breathing heavily down his neck. He just didn’t see it like that. This was just how he was, how he wanted to be. After all, he didn’t have a drinking problem, or any type of substance abuse issue- Ryan had said that himself. So what was the big fuckin’ deal? ”You sure as hell implied it,” He said drily, eyebrows arched, already done with this conversation before it even properly got a chance to start. He still wasn’t too hot with the whole trust and communication thing. Brendon was a romantic work in progress to say the least. Okay, either way, it’s not good for you, and you know it. Fucking hell, who did he think he was? His goddamn dad? A doctor? Ryan himself smoked cigarettes, weed, he drank- he’d dabbled in drugs, Brendon knew for definite- and here he was, preaching about health. ”You’re a hypocrite, dude.”

You haven’t seen you when you’re fucked up- you haven’t had to take care of you. Oh, Ryan was a complaining about having to look after him, huh? Isn’t that what a boyfriend was supposed to do? He was under the impression that being in a relationship meant caring for eachother. Brendon was getting increasingly, irrationally angry and defensive with every word that came out of Ryan’s poor, genuinely concerned mouth. It’s bad, baby. ”Don’t fucking baby me, you manipulative freak.” ...He didn’t mean any of this, but years of not being taught how to properly express and handle his emotions lead to him simply lashing out and not thinking about the consequences. Ryan wasn’t manipulative, and if he thought about it for a moment, actually agreed to talk about this, he’d have got that. But no, Brendon jumped in, full swing, hackles up. This is what lead to him saying probably the most stupid thing he’d ever said to Ryan- he compared him to Shane, spitting out his ex’s name like it was poison, which to them, it was, hoping it would sting because he was that unable to recognise when people were just looking out for him. He’s spent his whole life surrounded by enablers. This was the outcome.

I think you wanna try that again. ”I’m good,” He replied instantly, coldly, fixing him with his fiery gaze. But something in Ryan’s voice that he only recognised after he’d responded- he was mad, real mad, just from that. Being entirely inaccurately and idiotically compared to an abusive ex could do that to someone. I’m not sure what’s worse, Bren. Brendon dragged his hands down his face then tangled them in his own hair, nails digging into his scalp to relieve some angry tension. That you don’t give a fuck about your health, or that you believe me showing genuine concern about it for you could even vaguely be compared to anything that asshole did. Brendon knew hat if he actually soaked in what Ryan had just said, it would make sense, he’d apologise profusely, be mortified by his own actions- but in the moment, defiant and pissed and having a tantrum like a scolded toddler, he refused to pay attention, just scowled at him. ”My health is my fucking business. Not yours. You’re so entitled to me.”

Brendon watched and there was a silence as Ryan turned his head and took a resigned, careful sip from his mug. Something about the control of his aspect and approach to Brendon’s raging fire was unnerving and his eyes flickered around Ryan’s profile, noticed how his jaw was clenched in place. Maybe he’s crossed a line, but... So should I leave now, or do you want to correct that mistake? Of course he didn’t mean it. Of course it wasn’t true. But Brendon was too proud and defensive to even think about admitting that and begging forgiveness for being such a vindictive, childish asshole. I don’t want anyone just like Shane to be near you, so if I do leave, I may as well not come back for a while. Perfect. Wonderful. He didn’t have to listen to his nagging assistant complain about how much fun Brendon was having. Sounded ideal. ”Get the fuck out, then. You know where the door is.”

and i’m conducting

It was petty, but it was also true that Brendon woke up every day and without fail spent a considerable amount of time figuring out how to annoy the shit out of Ryan on that particular day. The thing was, it was so easy- he liked to be inventive, but often the most reliable and effective one was also the easiest and Brendon’s favourite- being both seductive and untouchable, trying to turn the bastard on at times where he could do fuck all about it except stare angrily, anywhere but at Brendon because if he did it would be obvious in more ways than one that Ryan had a thing for him. Well, it was more than just having a thing- they hooked up regularly, provoked by fights or not, only when it was the product of tension caused by an argument it tended to be a little more aggressive. The friction that was caused by their mutual hatred generated heat and the only way to work that off was through an extremely direct approach. So, even though they would probably still be fucking if Brendon wasn’t an irritating asshole every damn day, the fact that he was an irritating asshole every damn day just made things that little bit more exciting.

There were different ways to seduce someone as easy and pathetic as Ryan Rowe, luckily, so he had the leverage to have some fun when he was trying to drive him up the wall. Today, he was going to pretend that he wasn’t even trying to do anything- usually he made eye contact with him, taunting, but this time, he’d be completely nonchalant. That, more than anything, was sure to drive Ryan crazy. So, he strode down through the very tight space between their bunks, and started stripping off his clothes, as deliberately as possible without looking too damn obvious that he was just trying to get on his nerves. First, the shirt- folded easily over his head, no big deal. He noticed Ryan looking, he wasn’t stupid. Ryan, who was pretending to be so damn unaffected, and probably had many colourful thoughts going through his head already.

Manoeuvring around in this small space wasn’t fun, but Brendon was used to it, so it was relatively easy and his movements while he derobed were fluid and assured. Ryan was sure to recognise them. If he weren’t such a convincing and committed actor, he’d be grinning wildly by now, easily blowing his nonchalant cover. After he’d carelessly discarded his shirt, Brendon started working on his jeans, popping open the button and sliding down the zipper, pausing before he took them off the stretch deliberately, pretending that he didn’t at all notice Ryan’s obvious staring. That kid really thought he was slick. Brendon dropped his arms back down to his sides and finally shimmied our of them, the denim catching on the way, and he heard Ryan drop his book (some pretentious bullshit, probably) against his chest. That thirsty fucker. Brendon turned around so he could smile at the wall, folding his jeans clumsily and dumping them onto his bunk. When he turned around again, he caught Ryan’s eye, but made sure his gaze was glassy and blank. Almost immediately Ryan stood up and slipped away towards the lounge. Brendon smirked. Idiot.

After a moment of waiting he meandered down the short hallway to the lounge, standing there casually and watching two of his three bandmates unnecessarily intently. There was some discussion about going out and Brendon made some absent comments, again hiding a smirk when Ryan tried to speak in a very strangled voice. Half a second after he piped up with his little quip about drunken bandmates climbing into bed with him, and neither Spence nor Jon seemed particularly impressed by the idea. Gross. ”That’s rude, man.” Are you hinting at something? Brendon bagged his eyelashes innocently. I’m not interested. ”Yeah, well, you should be.” The two of them were shrugging on jackets and standing up and Brendon watched them, all good-natured smile and... lack of clothes. Alright, we’ll start early, then. Jeez, bit of an early one. Bad for their livers, but... good for Brendon. He and Ryan would be here alone, how exciting. Anticipation was burning in his gut. See ya. ”Bye, dude.” He watched as Jon went to shut the door behind him and laughed to punctuate his last comment- Don’t kill eachother!

”No promises,” Brendon called back, laughing, and then he shook his head, smiling to himself. There was always a comment like that whenever the two of them, famous for their mutual hatred, were left to their own devices. It would be a valid piece of advice back when they didn’t have sex as a means of burning off steam, but. Now it was just funny. I’m killing you first, you little fucker. Oh, Okay. Brendon expected him to be pissed but was still startled by the suddenness of his attack. ”Shit, chill. What’ve I done now?” What the fuck are you up to? Looking for attention tonight? Brendon grinned, looked him up and down, shrugged his shoulders. ”I don’t look for your attention, dumbass,” He corrected, his voice almost a purr. ”I just kinda attract it.”

i don’t want to hear you’ve got a boyfriend

It was true that Brendon had been the one to lean in for a kiss first, but that was a) because he hadn’t seen him in a good while, several long hours, and b) because Ryan didn’t even recognise him as his boyfriend, so naturally wasn’t just going to kiss some apparent stranger. Ryan had therefore denied him permission and they’d barely touched- until now, when Ryan, in his endearing but simultaneously alarming reaction to realising Brendon had been right beside him this whole time, climbed uncharacteristically onto his lap, a knee bracing either side of his thighs, and dragged him into a very inappropriate and disarming kiss. He tasted strongly of alcohol, no surprise there, but other than that the only thing Brendon took away from the unexpected one-sided makeout in the back seat of the car was that Ryan had clearly missed him. It would be charming, but Ryan sticking his tongue down his throat with two uncomfortable onlookers after having talked in detail about how good the head that Brendon gave was was the last thing Brendon would consider a romantic gesture.

Flattering, maybe. Key word, ‘maybe’. When Ryan finally pulled back and allowed him to breathe, Brendon shifted uncomfortably, not used to this- it was usually the other way around, Brendon straddling Ryan, but he just did what Ryan usually resorted to and held onto his waist to try and steady him, thumb stroking over his side gently, praying that he didn’t throw up. It was great that Ryan finally recognised him, sure, and he’d have a lot to tease him about tomorrow, but right now, Brendon just wanted to go home and go to sleep- he was exhausted from the show alone, where he always went overboard with the energy he put into his performance, and this whole charade with Ryan’s wasted ass was not helping things. It made him feel a little sympathy for everyone who had to deal with him when he was this drunk, actually. Suddenly, Ryan’s hands were on his shoulders and Brendon tilted his chin to meet his eyes, eyebrows raised. A little. Perhaps. Ryan’s words played through his head- he is undoubtedly the best at sucking dick, he’s submissive, he’ll fall apart- and Brendon scoffed. ”Define a ‘little’, man. If you keep talking about how good I am at giving head, Zack might get jealous.” He grinned, always managing to find the funny side. Zack barely even reacted, used to this kind of torment.

Oh, but he was so pretty. Even pissed as all hell. Brendon tenderly reached up to drag his fingers through his hair, had to suppress a smile, keep his mouth in a straight, dry, unimpressed line.I speak verrrry highly of you. Only the truth. His mind wandered as he considered all of the ‘truths’ that Ryan wouldn’t want shared about him or them as couple to the world, but decided against pointing out that just because something was ‘personal’, it didn’t mean it was ‘the truth’ that needed to be told- it wouldn’t get through to Ryan while he was in this state, anyway. Brendon opened his mouth after a pause to ask Zack how far away from the hotel they were but Ryan’s sudden, unexplained laughter interrupted him, startling him so much that he physically jumped, eyebrows shooting up and eyes widening. ”Jesus, what’s so fuckin’ funny? Crackhead.”

Ryan then suggested that Brendon go down on him in this very car at this very moment. Brendon absolutely did not want to, even if they were just back atthe hotel, he was tired and he was pretty sure Ryan would fall asleep during it anyway, and that would be something his ego wouldn’t be able to let go. But, he didn’t want to extend this conversation so he just used Zack and the driver as an excuse. Zack voiced his distaste openly and Brendon didn’t blame him- he’d already seen much more of what Brendon and Ryan got up to in their free time, Brendon didn’t imagine he wanted to see any more. It did not come in the job description, that’s for sure. That’s true. Zack grumbled. Unfortunately. Ryan was suddenly lifting himself off his lap and Brendon followed his movements with his eyes, watching as he settled back onto the car seat. He hoped that he’d fall asleep but- three seconds later he was resting his head on Brendon’s shoulder, an arm around him. At least this was more PG-13. Zack. Yes, Zack. Though, again, even if they were alone- Brendon didn’t feel like getting on his knees right now, his legs were killing him.

Okay. Oh, fuck, just when he thought he was finally settling down. So what are we gonna do when the king of cockblocks’s gone? Brendon looked to the ceiling of the car like he was asking a God for help, and on the way down he caught Zack’s eye, who raised his eyebrows at him. He shrugged helplessly and tried to stay still, desperately trying not to encourage Ryan to do anything more than rest on his shoulder. ”I dunno, Ry,” He murmured absently, not really thinking about it, ”What d’ya wanna do?” Sleep, that’s what Brendon wanted to do. Put Ryan to bed and then sleep.

and i’m conducting

After a show, there always tended to be the same familiar routine that the band rhythmically went through; they hung around backstage for a bit, thanking the staff and making sure everything went okay, and then they all filed out in a loose formation towards the tour bus at different speeds. Usually, the last one aboard was Brendon. This time, thus taking a step towards proving this generalisation, it was Brendon, which gave Ryan a chance to chastise him after what had otherwise been a relatively incident-free night- sure, Brendon had taunted him onstage, but that was routine at this point; Ryan had learned, much to Brendon’s disappointment, to tune out when he launched into his dramatic performance, his over-the-top speech about ‘sweaty, angry, frenzied fucking’ which involved Ryan much more than the guitarist probably would have liked. But that’s why it was so fun- watching Ryan trying to control his temper and concentrate on playing.

Anyway, from the tour bus, there could be a deviation from the usual path. If they had a hotel, the driver would take them there, but that was a luxury- usually, they slept in their bunks in the tour bus. The same was true that night. When Brendon walked on, Jon and Spencer were lingering in the cramped lounge area, nursing drinks already, but there was no sign of Ryan- Brendon looked around the corner towards the bunks and he saw Ryan’s legs sticking out from his. He blinked and turned to Jon, who, along with Spencer, hadn’t gotten changed, so he came to the natural conclusion that they were going for some after-show celebration, even though that hadn’t even been their best show, it wasn’t even the end of the leg or the last show in the state or anything. Brendon figured it was just an excuse to go out, and he respected that. Still, he grinned, raised his eyebrows, and Jon spoke before he could. “We’re gonna check the night scene around here, you down?”

”I’m getting too old for going out after shows, man,” Brendon laughed, reaching up to comb his fingers through his disheveled hair. Jon was older than him, but whatever. Besides, it wasn’t even true- he just felt like getting on a certain someone’s nerves tonight, because winding Ryan up was- well, not a new favourite pastime. But a consistent one. Spencer looked a little disappointed. ”You’re not even a year older than me, fucker. What do you mean, old?” Another laugh. ”The stress of fame.... Has aged me rapidly. I found a fucking grey hair, honestly, dude- and I’m in my twenties., but, like, physically, I’m fifty.” This was a lie. He was eighteen at heart and head and 24 only technically.

Spencer and Jon seemed to catch on that he just wasn’t that keen, though, and gave up at exactly the same time, Jon just lifting his drink and then taking a sip and Spencer just shrugging disinterestedly, bored of Brendon’s ‘charming’ bullshitting. Brendon clicked his tongue and weaves his way inbetween the bunks, stopping at his, which was a bottom bunk and directly across from Ryan’s. Ryan folded his legs up to let him pass, not even looking at him as he did so- he was reading something, what, Brendon didn’t know. Probably something pretentious. He desperately wanted to goad him about it, but- if his plan was going to work, he’d have to be more nonchalant. So, he ignored him completely, to what he imagined was a mixture of Ryan’s disappointment and surprise- and sat down on his bunk, pulling his shirt over his head before he’d even settled onto the sheets.

He tossed it onto the mattress and then searched around amongst his things for deodorant, which he generously used- then he tossed that aside, undid the buttons and unzipped the zipper of his jeans, before standing up to start inching them down his hips. But, he just- left them like that, the waistband of his underwear visible, and stretched his arms above his head, muscles contracting as he clung onto the top bunk in order to extend his body, which was still running chiefly on adrenaline from the show. It was embarrassingly obvious, shameless, but only Ryan would know that. Jon and Spencer would just think ‘hey, it’s a Brendon thing. He does that’.

Blatant showcasing of his shirtless form aside, he then turned around, facing away from Ryan, and finally pushed them down his hips- the denim caught but then slid down and he stepped out of them, letting them crumple into a pile with his shirt. It would be obvious at this point to those who didn’t know him that he didn’t have any, uh. Self esteem issues.

When he turned back around, he caught Ryan’s eye, his hips kind of propped up at an angle, his arms again outstretched above his head because this bus was extremely fucking cramped, even for somebody so little. Though there was nothing teasing about his gaze- in fact, he just let his eyes pass over Ryan, like he was barely even there.

He hadn’t been paying much attention to Ryan but when the guitarist stood up and weaved past him stiffly, Brendon knew he’d gotten somewhere already. You coming with us, Ry? He heard Spencer ask. There was a pause. I guess it’s just us then, Spence.

Interesting. Ryan wasn’t going. Maybe he was too invested in his book... Ha, yeah. Brendon was grinning so hard that he had to force himself to stop before he appeared in front of his three band members, still wearing very little. Spencer and Jon were completely unfazed. Ryan, who had sat down, shifted- Brendon could see it from out of his peripheral. Yeah, I’m, uh. Tired. Mhm. ”Don’t be back too late, I gotta get my beauty sleep and don’t need you, like, accidentally getting into my bunk with me at 2am.”