Neve

it's a lovely chemistry

While researching Rowe for the interview, he’d seen pictures. He knew that the man was handsome, he’d known before he turned up to meet him, but those photographs were nothing because in person he was hot. It was typical for Brendon that the first person he’d been genuinely attracted too in a while was someone he had to meet in a professional setting- though that didn’t stop him daydreaming a little, watching his mouth too much when he answered questions and lingering with the handshake because his grip was strong and calloused and his fingers were long and- yeah, you get the picture. Ryan was just his type, tall and dark, with beautiful eyes and a gorgeous voice. So, when, at the end of the interview after the recording had stopped, Ryan lingered behind and approached him to ask him out on a date, Brendon was very surprised. Flattered. After a few hesitant moments wondering whether this would compromise the interview somehow and he’d get in trouble, he figured to tell with it, he was freelance anyway and Brendon hadn’t been on a date in a while.

Besides. If all else failed, he’d get a nice dinner, at least. He mulled over his outfit choice for a little longer than he would have liked but settled on something that stood out but wasn’t too out there, for fear of weirding Ryan out with his sometimes extravagant sense of style. Being late didn’t bother him and when he walked in and Ryan immediately stood up, he grinned lazily, meeting his date in the middle between the door and the table and letting himself be drawn into a hug. Just like with the handshake, it lingered just a little too long for it to be a quick first-date hug. Ryan smelled amazing, and he was warm and his chest felt comfortable to be held against. Jesus, it really had been a while since Brendon last had a crush or felt even the faintest butterflies and if things went the way they were, he’d be on the phone to his friends like a teenager when he got home tonight, gushing about the dreamy hockey player who had taken him out on a date in a lovely restaurant. Fuck, he was getting carried away, it was just a hug.

Pull yourself together, Brendon, he told himself, pulling back from the embrace and following Ryan to the table, smiling in thanks when he pulled his chair out for him and then sitting down, shifting til he was comfortable. It felt, for a bizarre moment as he started at Ryan from across the table, like the beginning of another interview, and he felt the need to introduce himself- but luckily, Ryan was talking before he could embarrass himself by implying that Ryan didn’t even remember the name of the man he’d asked out on a date the day before. Then, Brendon was complimenting him and commenting on that visible scar, withholding the juvenile admission that he thought it made him look hot. It did, though. It’s an accessory. He laughed. ”I have a scar, too, on my eyebrow.” He raised the eyebrow in question. ”Not as cool a story behind it, though. Smacked my head on the curb when I was a kid.”

I didn’t know whether you drank. Split a bottle? How considerate- or maybe this kid just liked his alcohol. Brendon smirked back, his voice teasing and gentle. ”Hell yeah, might help us out a little.” And suddenly they were talking about the interview and Brendon felt like he was at work but didn’t mind, because he understood it must’ve been a big deal for Ryan as his first proper interview, and because that was the one thing he knew that they had in common so far. He didn’t intend to flatter him but apparently honesty was enough to do that as Brendon just relayed what he thought Ryan already knew- everyone, save maybe rival teams, loved him as a player. He was pretty and charming and rough around the edges and that was certainly doing it for Brendon. Well. I knew that part, I'm always right. Cocky, but in a sweet, endearing sort of way, that Brendon couldn’t really take serious because he had been at that interview and Ryan almost stammered a few times. At first he thought it was inexperience but after Ryan asked him out, he realised he must have been a factor affecting his nerves, too.

A little shell-shocked. First in the draft... I’m good, I didn’t know I was that... y’know. That was almost a textbook answer to an interview question but Brendon could tell he really was just surprised. Not too above the Earth, then, it seemed, still disbelieving of his great achievements. Brendon felt a foreign fondness and hoped suddenly that his success continued into greater things. ”You should be proud of yourself.” A pause. ”I mean, I’m sure you are,” Brendon laughed, the corners of his eyes screwing up a little. It's crazy - but I'm great, too, obviously. ”Obviously.” You were my first interview. First one well thought out, and everything. Do you always do that much studying, or is it just this particular story? I wasn't expecting that.

Brendon waited as smiled at the server as they topped up his glass and he immediately picked it up when they moved on, taking his first sip just as Ryan was finishing his first glass. Slow down, he wanted to joke, but they weren’t there yet, so he decided against it. ”I always do that much,” He explained, placing his glass back down. ”I don’t just turn up and think up questions on the spot, y’know. Although- if turning up to interviews and getting dates with handsome men like yourself was a daily thing, I think I’d be a happier man.”

glitter dancing on the skin

It had been both fascinating and amusing to Brendon to find out that he and Ryan weren’t all that different, apparently, when it came down to things like mutual attraction and affection and pure thirst. Ryan was just more shy about it, only revealing it, evidently, when he was wasted beyond return. Fuck, maybe he didn’t even know himself that he was capable of being so goddamn forward- around other people, even, which was truly jaw dropping at the time and still to Brendon now considering that Ryan could barely get through the mildest dirty talk (if it could even be classed as that, how PG-13 Ryan was verbally) when they were completely alone and Brendon was literally coming undone for him. It was satisfying, at least, to know that he had the same effect on Ryan that Ryan had on him. An ego boost, almost- until, well. Ryan started revealing to people who really didn’t ask exactly how they had sex, and that Brendon was a bottom, through and through, no doubts there. And it must’ve been pretty mortifying because Brendon had close to no sense of shame or concept of embarrassment.

That said, it was true. It wasn’t like Brendon had a distaste for taking on the role he did- the complete opposite, as Ryan had helpfully explained, but he just had some kind of complex where he didn’t want people to know that he was like that. His confidence and independence defined him and he had a weird thing about people knowing he was so submissive, when among others and in day to day life he was so assertive. In Brendon’s mind, he was unclockable, so for Ryan to just go ahead and ‘blow his cover’ was like a slap in the face and Brendon didn’t even get time to damage control, ‘fix’ his image, because he had to look after his poor, wasted boyfriend. Thinking about it a little, Brendon reflected on his fear of his role being known- and decided that maybe it was something to work on, some kind of internalised issue with himself he hadn’t addressed. That dramatic bullshit aside- it was very reasonable for him to not want very intimate details about the two of them broadcast to strangers or otherwise very different parties, he thought, so he carried on with his deliberately careful confrontation about Ryan’s behaviour.

If water will fix me... Brendon wasn’t sure if anything could fx Ryan at this point other than time- he had the kind of hangover that, even with painkillers and gallons of water or more alcohol, could only be cured by waiting and suffering for a while until the pain and nausea subsided. ”It might help,” Brendon said encouragingly, but he was still dubious. He mentally noted down that he should get Ryan a glass of water sooner rather than later so he didn’t complain too much. ”I’ll get you some, and painkillers. In a bit.” His voice was deliberately vague-sounding and neutral, and he shifted, before kissing Ryan chastely on the cheek. My angel. Aw. Fuck. It was hard to even pretend to be mad at him when he was so soft and affectionate and referred to him as angel or baby or darling. Brendon just melted in response every time no matter how much he heard it. Everything’s how I imagined it’d be in heaven... except I feel like actual shit. He raised his eyebrows. ”Well, maybe you’re in hell.”

Zack telling me to go away, the fucker. Brendon smirked, ”Yeah, you kept sneaking in tryna kiss me before the show. Distracting me.” And then... the cab ride. That’s it. Evidently not the ride back to the hotel, featuring antics from Ryan like requesting head and straddling Brendon’s lap in the backseat. Those memories flashed through his mind and he exhaled, wondering where to start with this if Ryan really remembered so little about what happened last night. He wanted to make sure he didn’t think the worst, like, he had cheated, or something awful like that, though even fucking wasted neither of them would even dream of something like that. Hell, Ryan had refused to kiss him, at first, because he thought that he wasn’t Brendon. Even thinking about that he felt a surge of affection and an urge to go easy on Ryan- especially considering he looked so concerned when Brendon brought up his behaviour. What- what? Was I mean? What happened?

Brendon stared at their joined hands and laughed awkwardly, genuinely lost as to where to start. ”No, no, not mean. Far from it, dude. You were, uh. Thirsty. Very... Sexual.” He said the word like they were twelve year olds, cursing, but scared that their parents would hear. ”You got into the car and I tried to kiss you and you refused, saying that. You were spoken for. You didn’t recognise me at all, you were so gone,” He explained, looking up as he recalled the events in the car. ”I thought it was funny, so I asked about- your boyfriend. You started talking about, uh, my ass. And how you stared at it and you couldn’t help but think about fucking me when I’m on stage wearing-“ He stifled a laugh, trying to remain serious, ”Tight jeans.” A pause to let it sink in, before he continued. ”You said you wanted to touch ‘every inch’ of me. Like, normally, I’d have been flattered, but it was in front of Zack and this driver. Thought you’d like to know, in case Zack mentions it.” Obviously, that wasn’t all, and Brendon made that clear by staring at Ryan intently, gauging is reaction and letting him come to terms with his very uncharacteristic behaviour. “Actually, I think he recorded some of it.”

glitter dancing on the skin

Brendon was a drinker- many of the songs he had written without Ryan’s influence revolves around drinking and partying and going batshit, basically, which is why it was so strange for Ryan to be the wasted one, and not Brendon, As was how things usually played out. He’d be stumbling around, unpredictable and extremely giggly, and Ryan (or someone else if Ryan, for some reason, wasn’t available, such as Brendon was on tour) always ended up half-carrying him home and into bed. The thing was, when it got to that, Brendon’s memory had a cutoff point. He didn’t know how much of a nightmare he was when he was a little more than tipsy. Last night, though, with the task of dealing with a very intoxicated Ryan thrust upon him unexpectedly, he began to feel sympathy for Ryan and understood now why he complained about Brendon being drunk or tried to slow his drinking down before it got to that point. Brendon’s argument there was that Ryan was used to it. Drunk Brendon was well known as unstoppably horny and chaotic. Drunk Ryan being a similar way was the last thing Brendon expected.

What had he expected? Something like- Ryan as he was, more inclined to be introverted as usual, but more emotional, dramatically talking about his desire to ‘make love’ or ‘get married’ or something. Nothing like how he really apparently was, talking brazenly about how to fuck Brendon so he falls apart and other very inappropriate things that he wouldn’t even say to Brendon’s face when they were alone. It was lunacy. At first, Brendon found it hilarious as Ryan talked about his ass and how hot he was and how much he missed his boyfriend (as he didn’t even click that the man next to him was, in fact, his boyfriend), but later, as Ryan outed him as a complete bottom and requested a blowjob in a car with two other people besides the pair of them, it was just mortifying. And Ryan didn’t give a single fuck in his drunk state- that car ride seemed to last forever, until they finally arrived at the hotel, Zack dragging Ryan out of the car as Brendon claimed it was his fault for driving him away from the venue. Zack, deciding he didn’t like getting the blame, left Ryan for Brendon to deal with.

Brendon managed to get him to bed, mostly through promising that certain things would happen once they got to the hotel room, things Ryan had been enthusiastically talking about since a few miles down the road. He undressed him, and as he tried to unzip Ryan’s jeans and Ryan instead dragged him in for a very messy kiss, he decided that he did, in fact, feel great sympathy for his boyfriend whenever he had to look after Brendon. He supposed this entire struggle was karma. Luckily, despite seeming very eager to carry out what Brendon had promised, Ryan fell asleep in his underwear and Brendon had collapsed with a sigh of relief into bed next to him, without even having a shower. He was too tired. He fell asleep soon after Ryan had passed out, but not before dragging a blanket over the both of them and curling into Ryan’s side.

Now, Ryan was feeling the repercussions. I don’t want to drink anything, ever. Yeah, Brendon had heard that kind of bullshit before- from himself. For Ryan, though, who barely ever drank anyway and now had this painful hangover as a result of drinking too much, it was very likely Ryan was being entirely honest, and he was swearing off drinking that much ever again. Brendon smirked; it would be funny to see how much more drastic that decision became when he revealed what exactly had happened the previous evening. ”Not even water, darlin’? I bet you have a fuckin’ killer headache.” His voice was low and soothing, but laced with an edge of amusement, ruffling Ryan’s hair with his hand and grinning. He shifted back as Ryan began to stir properly and moved into a sitting position, facing the headboard. Brendon watched him, eyebrows raised slightly as he quashed his smirk. Still, as Ryan stretched luxuriously, Brendon drank in the way his muscles stretched taut and rested his chin in his hand, admiring him through lidded eyes. He was pretty, even though he was a pain in the ass. Is this life after death...? Am I in a coma?

”Not quite,” He murmured, opening his arms and moving so he could catch Ryan when he collapsed back into their kind-of hug. ”Though I am an angel. So you could be in heaven.” Brendon let his muscles go slack so he could be pulled in easily by Ryan. He kissed his cheek as an afterthought. I can’t remember anything after, like, eight. Interesting. ”What do you remember?” He asked, raising his eyebrows again critically. And I’m dead. Or dying. Take care of me. Okay, action. Now was time for some sweet revenge on Ryan for outing him to fucking Zack as so hopelessly submissive. ”Gladly, Ryan, But.” A pause for effect. He avoided Ryan’s eyes deliberately before searching them out, feigning reluctance but holding his gaze nonetheless. ”We need to talk about last night, uh.” Brendon moved back and summoned Ryan back into a sitting position. ”You said some really inappropriate shit about me during the ride from the bar back to the hotel. Zack and the driver were there. You didn’t- recognise me as me, or whatever, and started talking about, uh.” Brendon scratched the back of his neck awkwardly, reliving it, and stopped there to let Ryan catch up.

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.”