Randa's RP Journal (![[info]](http://www.insanejournal.com/img/userinfo.gif){kind=small} justranda) wrote in ![[info]](http://www.insanejournal.com/img/community.gif){kind=small} patdolym_shadow,@ 2008-11-01 22:45:00 |
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Team Spencer: Birds of a Feather Flock Together
I'll Do Anything You've Ever Dreamed to Be Complete
“It's like... you ever watch any of those low budget sitcoms they show late at night? Where emotions run far too high and everything is love or hate, never in between? Yeah, that's what life with your band is like. When you're together all the time - on the bus travelling, at the venue, sound checking, back stage, on stage, then back to the bus to either party or sleep – everything tends to become amplified... just like those sitcoms. Understand?”
Carmen shakes her head, willing herself to hang up and forget she ever called Pete for advice.
“Yeah, sure, thanks, you've been invaluable,” she mutters and he laughs in response.
“I'm sure he loves you sweetie, there's just no way I can make you understand how it is,” he says more softly and she thanks him genuinely this time before he's called away. She's left with her thoughts and a minimized window on the computer screen that she really should just get rid of. Instead she clicks on it, bringing the images scorched into her memory to life in front of her.
The hand holding the camera shakes as that instantly recognisable sultry showman moves towards his highly focused, almost unearthly beautiful guitarist in a well-rehearsed show of temptation. She watches the familiar closeness, dark eyes locking with amber ones, and this is the part of the show where the shyer of the two turns away, always so slightly out of reach. However the show plays no differently here than it has the past hundred times she's watched this video, with the elder boy turning to meet the younger in a show of defiance, dominance, mouths crashing together briefly before the show resumes. Resumes, yes, because she has no doubt that, even just for that minute, the show stopped.
It's mesmerising, captivating, the dance of stolen moments and covert lust, and yet it only deepens the heavy weight leaden in her stomach where the rest of the world crows in delight. Yet it's only to be expected when it's her boyfriend of a year on stage moving forward to seek his best friend's kiss.
- - - - - - - - - - -
“What the fuck Ry?” Brendon yells the minute they're off stage, Spencer and Jon tactfully distracting anyone waiting to speak to them. Ryan turns and looks at him with that level gaze, unnerving and unwavering. He grabs Brendon's arm and drags him to the dressing room, slamming the door behind them.
“I'd appreciate it if you didn't go yelling at me in public,” he says coldly and Brendon stares down at the ground. Ryan has a point there, but he's unwilling to concede, too disturbed by what happened, by what they let happen up there. “And secondly,” Ryan continues, “you can't expect to keep teasing me, taunting me, without provoking a response. Not with what's going on now.”
What the hell is he meant to say to that? Apparently he doesn't have to say anything, as Ryan moves closer to him and puts his arms around Brendon's waist, drawing him closer, despite Brendon's obvious reluctance.. “Look, I just...” he begins, but Brendon cuts him off.
“I know,” he says, his tone conciliatory, “and it was bound to happen.” Ryan tips Brendon's chin up slightly so he's looking him right in the eye.
“Forgive me?” Ryan asks, and Brendon smiles despite his reservations. Ryan takes that action as a yes and kisses him until Brendon relaxes in his arms before they break apart. Long after he should be used to it, Ryan's touch still fills his head with this dizzy pleasure which leaves him, as usual, craving him as soon as he moves away.
Ryan reaches for his phone, dialling the number before catching Brendon watching him. “I'd better call her, that'll be all over the internet by now.” He must see the look which passes fleetingly over Brendon's features before he can catch it because Ryan puts the phone down and reaches for him again. Brendon pulls away from him, unwilling to give in too easily, but Ryan's insistent and finally, he relents.
- - - - - - - - - - -
Some instinct has Carmen pulling up to the venue in a taxi – the same instinct that had her calling Ryan's phone until he answered breathless and impatient – and as she walks through the doors she hear murmurs of recognition from fans on their way home. “Isn't that...?” “Isn't she...?” She ignores them all as she moves towards the stage door. The man guarding it mutters into his walkie talkie as she stands impatiently tapping her foot. She's expecting Ryan, but Zack appears in the doorway. He nods by way of greeting, whispering something to the guard before motioning for her to follow him.
They're walking down the corridor towards the dressing room when she catches sight of Jon and Spencer standing outside. When they notice her, a look of pure panic momentarily crosses Jon's face, but Spencer is totally calm. “Carmen, nice to see you. Ryan didn't say you were coming down?” It is a question, but she's in no mood to explain herself.
“Where is he?” she asks bluntly, well aware of the note of hysteria in her tone.
“I was just wondering that myself,” Spencer answers good naturedly. She gestures at the door frustratedly, asking tightly, “Have you tried in there?” Jon cuts in at this point, telling her it's locked. They're both obviously excellent liars, but they can't disguise the fact they're trying to judge what she knows, if she's seen. “Look,” she says urgently, “I have to talk to him.” She's making them uncomfortable, she can tell, but she can't stop herself. She knows he can make this okay. She takes out her phone to call him again, not missing the worried glances they exchange, but she can't tell if it's because of the way she's acting or out of concern for what will happen next. Apparently it's the latter, as the three of them freeze when the noise of the phone ringing comes from behind the dressing room door.
- - - - - - - - - - -
“Fuck,” Ryan mutters, extricating himself from where they lie entangled on the sofa to answer his ringing phone. The thing has been going off constantly, but last time he picked it up there'd been no answer; no doubt some starstruck fan lucking out and getting his number but too nervous to talk to him. Now they're evidently going to give it another go. Brendon moans, stretching out on the sofa and when her opens his eyes he sees Ryan stopped inches from his phone simply watching him. “You know what?” Ryan mutters, reaching for the Sidekick and turning it off without ever taking his eyes off of Brendon, “Fuck them.”
He straddles Brendon's waist, running his hands over his chest as he leans down to kiss him, and Brendon start working on the buttons of Ryan's shirt. It's been too long since they've had an opportunity like this, stealing time to themselves away from prying eyes, and that's probably part of the reason Ryan let Brendon get so close on stage tonight. Brendon barely remember what happened, his stage persona so far removed from who he really is that it feels like that happened to another person. He's just losing myself in the feel of Ryan, the taste of him, when they're interrupted by a voice that can only be outside the door but seeming to come from miles away.
“Ryan! I fucking know you're in there so don't give me any shit. Get your ass out here, we need to talk.”
They both stop dead, hardly daring to move in case she hears them. Well, hears Brendon, as she's said, she knows Ryan's in there. However, they both are fully aware that Carmen suspects Brendon's in there with Ryan anyway – especially if she's seen the footage of the show.
“I'll go into the bathroom,” Brendon mutters, his mind racing with the limited possibilities of an innocent escape, “tell her you didn't hear, you were writing, or you had your I-Pod in, something like that, you need to talk somewhere more private, take her outside, out of view of the door, and if she wants to talk to me I'll act like I just got here.” Ryan nods in response, buttoning his shirt back up and trying to fix his hair. When he's just about innocent looking he unlocks the door and Brendon ends up leaning against the wall in the bathroom trying to steady his breathing, thinking simply how the fuck did my life come to this?
- - - - - - - - - - -
He walks out the door with a confidence bordering on arrogance and even at the sight of him Carmen's fears seem hysterical, irrational. On the surface this is a man who can explain everything, but when he smiles at her she sees in his eyes a little boy who wonders if he'll get away with this.
She listens to him speak but it's not his words she hears but Brendon's. Ryan may be a writer, but it's his friend who has the grip on the real world. In the past few years, mostly by necessity, Brendon's become a master of deception and it seems he's taught Ryan well, the plausible lies falling easily from his mouth. They'd planned the stage stunt according to him, he thought he'd warned her. After the show he'd had sudden inspiration, locking himself in the dressing room and oblivious to the outside world until he'd heard her yelling.
He's so convincing, not too eager to share every minor detail but detailed enough to satisfy her, everything said in his usual manner, without any give-away hesitation, and despite herself she begins to believe him. He must sense this as he takes her hand, pulling her closer. “I'm sorry,” he whispers, and for a minute it sounds too meaningful, too heartfelt to be simply for making her worry. She ignores that feeling however and reaches up to kiss him lightly, trying to break into his reverie, and it works, if only partly. He smiles softly at her, but even she notices it doesn't quite reach his eyes.
When they go back into the dressing room Brendon seems to be afflicted the same way, an empty smile betraying nothing of whatever he's feeling. She searches for any sign that he's affected by their relationship, but he appears apathetic to say the least. That is until he stands up abruptly and tells them he's going for some air, that he'll see the guys back on the bus. She doesn't miss the looks the other three exchange as he walks out – something is definitely wrong with him. Jon moves to go out but Ryan stands up first. “I'll go,” he says simply, moving towards the door with a barely disguised sense of urgency.
- - - - - - - - - - -
Brendon's just lit the cigarette when Ryan comes flying round the corner, giving Brendon a disapproving look when he sees it in his hand. Brendon glares at him, a look designed to convey a couple of things – he never touched them until this thing with Ryan started, he's just had to spend the last 10 minutes making pleasant small talk with the girlfriend of the man he's... hell, he doesn't even know what to call it, and due to the previous points, him smoking is in fact Ryan's fault. He can't decide how much of that Ryan's taken from his look, so instead he shuts Ryan out, closing his eyes and drawing deep, enjoying the scorch of heat that burns down his throat. Lethal for his voice, but when he can't decide whether he wants to hit Ryan or just kiss him, it's essential for his sanity.
“What was that?” Ryan asks him impatiently, and Brendon has to take another long draw to prevent himself from slamming Ryan against the wall. Brendon loves him, but right now he could kill him.
“I don't know what you mean,” he says coldly in reply, his voice low and hard so there's no way he'll mistake how Brendon's feeling.
“Don't give me that, what was with that little display in there?” Ryan asks, immediately on the offensive. Brendon draws in again, feeling his hands starting to shake with all the emotion he's suppressing.
“Don't push me Ry,” he warns, but Ryan never could leave anything alone. He'll admit he's trying to provoke Brendon because either angry or hurt he knows how to deal with him; he has no idea how to placate this cold, emotionless imitation of his lover.
So Ryan keeps going, purposefully poking at old wounds and unwittingly creating new ones, until Brendon has him pressed against the wall, anger blazing in his eyes. “You really want to know what this is about?” he asks, his tone low, almost menacing, “This is about watching her take what I want whenever she likes when she can have it any time she likes. It's about blurred lines, from friend to lover then back again, sleepless tortured nights. What it's about is me continually having to sacrifice myself at the altar of Ryan Ross.”
It's then they both hear a shocked gasp.
- - - - - - - - - - -
Carmen leans back against the wall, her mind reeling. She'd thought that something was going on between them, but don't they always say that thinking and knowing were two very different things? It was so incredibly obvious, even in the middle of what appeared to be a very serious fight, that there was something between them – not just a history, but a future.
There's silence from around the corner and she hardly dares to look, to see what's going on between them. However, as she looks around she realises both are staring at her. She can hardly bear to look at Ryan,but when she meets Brendon's gaze there's a fire burning there that scares her, so she turns back to him and she can read nothing from Ryan's expression. He says nothing, and that's when she realises he has no idea what to say. She almost laughs at that, but the fear gripping at her chokes it.
It's only when she tastes salt on her lips that she realises she's crying. She turns away from them both, even in the midst of the turmoil of emotions they're too close for her to bear, and she begins to walk away, only praying that he'll follow, explain everything. She feels a hand around her arm and she breathes a sigh of relief; he came after her.
He tries to explain it away, but she's not so easily manipulated this time, she'll stand her ground. This is what she's thinking, but even as it's running through her mind she knows that this is her weakness standing in front of her and she could never deny him anything. So she'll gloss over the events of tonight in her mind, she'll accept his excuses and his apologies as gospel truth, and she'll stay with him in the hope that one day the man she loves will look at her just once the way he looked at Brendon tonight.
- - - - - - - - - - -
Three months later Ryan realises the mistake he made. Well, that's not true, even as he went after Carmen he knew it was a mistake; he just couldn't ignore a crying woman. He does love her, as much as he can when he spends most of his time around the one person he's ever been truly in love with.
He never realised how difficult it would be to give Brendon up, had never figured in his chivalrous plans that going after her meant giving him up entirely. That night when he'd gone back to the bus Spencer and Jon had made it very clear that that was exactly what he was going to have to do.
They'd been waiting in the lounge for him when he came back, having left Carmen at her hotel room. He'd expected them both to be angry, yes, but Spence had never looked at him like that, and the look Jon was giving him wasn't much better. “What?” he asked defensively, unable to take any more of the silence which was slowly choking him. The look Spencer gave him was pure contempt.
“You have no idea, do you?” he growled, getting up and storming out of the room. Ryan turned pleadingly to Jon, and he seemed to relent somewhat.
“He's in bed,” he said, answering Ryan's unasked question.
“Is he...” Ryan had started, but Jon interrupted.
“How could he be?” he'd replied as he walked out of the room, leaving Ryan drowning in his own thoughts.
Ryan can't help but watch Brendon now, now that he's not allowed to touch, barely even allowed to speak to him. He'd known the whole label was like family, but he hadn't expected to be left out in the cold the way he was now, although he understands it. Brendon's more cautious now, contemplates every word carefully before he speaks, and where there was energy and vibrancy in his eyes there's now a permanent melancholy which torments Ryan every time their eyes meet. Brendon used to look at Ryan as if he would save him, as if he was the hero sent to rescue him, and Ryan can't bear the disappointment as Brendon sees that Ryan isn't going to save this story.
He goes to Spencer, because no matter how cold he's been over the past few months, he's still Ryan's best friend and he will help him. After Ryan's explained himself and what he's thinking of doing, he detects a thawing in Spencer's attitude that only he could pick up on. He feigns reluctance to help, but Ryan knows that he's won and it encourages him a little. He knows however that the hardest part is yet to come.
- - - - - - - - - - --
Brendon really doesn't want to go out tonight, or any other night for that matter. He's lost his taste for drunken nights where the objective is only to find someone willing for the night, is sick of skinny little scene boys with brown hair and amber eyes that he can never stop himself from comparing and finding them lacking. He just wants to skip to the part of the situation where he wakes up and it doesn't hurt.
He goes to walk out of the bus to meet Spencer when he catches sight of himself in the mirror, almost unrecognisable. He looks older, less childish, but the cloud of sadness around him stops him from seeing how he really looks. All he sees in the mirror is someone who isn't good enough, someone who was never good enough.
They go to some club Brendon doesn't even attempt to remember the name of and they sit down with a couple of glasses of god knows what, it's just gratifying to feel it burn the back of his throat, remind him he's still alive. He can see Spencer glancing nervously at him, and momentarily he feels bad. Brendon's well aware that everyone's been worried about him, but to be honest he just wishes they'd leave him be. When everyone around you is a constant reminder of what you lost, no matter how much you love them all, it's sometimes difficult pretending you're okay.
However, there is a lot to be said for pretending you're okay Brendon thinks as he looks around the room indifferently before focusing on his drink. It's then he realises that if he's not even fooling himself, how can he think he's fooling his friends? In that moment Brendon decides that tonight is the first of the rest of his life, his misery can wait. He turns and gives Spencer a small smile, and it's a start, definitely a start.
He might just make it he thinks. Then he sees a face so familiar that his heart nearly stops.
- - - - - - - - - - -
Ryan's standing at the table unable to tear his gaze from Brendon, who seems similarly incapacitated. They stay like that, frozen in time, for a couple of seconds until Spencer kicks Ryan in the shin. Looking at Brendon, this new version he has no experience dealing with, his plans fly out of his mind. “Can we talk?” he asks, and there a few excruciating seconds pass before Brendon nods.
They go outside in silence and begin walking, each stealing guilty glances at the other. They end up in some park area, deserted at this time of night. As Ryan sits on a bench and Brendon deliberately sits as far away as possible Ryan realises they've gone this whole time without even accidentally touching, an unprecedented event.
Ryan starts talking, knows that he has to tell Brendon everything if he's going to have any chance at fixing his mistake. He tells him about the months after that night, about watching and realising that the ache wasn't going to go away because he was still as in love as ever, tells him that he left that night because it was easier to face Carmen's hurt than Brendon's. Ryan explains how he's spent his whole life running from what's best for him and whenever he feels vulnerable he's inclined to burn bridges. Each time he meets Brendon's eyes he can't remember how he ever thought him easy to read. He continues anyway, knowing that this will kill or cure them and he couldn't carry on knowing that he hadn't done everything possible to save them. Finally, he tells Brendon what he wants. He wants a future with him, a life built together, because the past couple of months have shown him that he needs Brendon in his life, wants simply to be with the man he loves.
Sometime during this the storm that's been gathering for days breaks above them and the rain starts falling, accompanied by the low roll of thunder. When Ryan's finished, Brendon stands up and Ryan sees that familiar mixture, love and hate, indecision and certainty, confusion and clarity. “I don't know Ry,” he says softly, “You broke me, but I can't imagine ever being okay without you. You have no idea how much that knowledge kills me, and I never want to be that dependant on anyone ever again. I just know that I can't stay here to think, you fuck with my head and I can't think clearly. I'll think about it, but I'm not making any promises, because I hate you for doing this to me when I thought I could survive without you. So take this as goodbye, and just know that you were the greatest lesson I was ever taught; I'll never love like this again.”
- - - - - - - - - - -
Ryan opens his door in the dead of night to find Brendon standing there, soaked through from the storm raging through the city, and he's so caught up in that sight that he almost misses what Brendon says. “Okay.” Ryan can't think what he means.
“Okay what?” he asks, sounding ridiculous even to himself.
“Okay everything. Okay to me and you, okay to a future, okay to being in love with you. Just... okay.” And with that Brendon moves back into Ryan's arms and his life like he had never left.
- - - - - - - - - - -
“So those kind of sitcoms, they always focus on two main characters, the lovers, the will-they-won't-they-didn't-they-just-oh-n
“Pete?” Ryan asks, “What the hell are you talking about?”
Return to LJ/vote
I'll Do Anything You've Ever Dreamed to Be Complete
“It's like... you ever watch any of those low budget sitcoms they show late at night? Where emotions run far too high and everything is love or hate, never in between? Yeah, that's what life with your band is like. When you're together all the time - on the bus travelling, at the venue, sound checking, back stage, on stage, then back to the bus to either party or sleep – everything tends to become amplified... just like those sitcoms. Understand?”
Carmen shakes her head, willing herself to hang up and forget she ever called Pete for advice.
“Yeah, sure, thanks, you've been invaluable,” she mutters and he laughs in response.
“I'm sure he loves you sweetie, there's just no way I can make you understand how it is,” he says more softly and she thanks him genuinely this time before he's called away. She's left with her thoughts and a minimized window on the computer screen that she really should just get rid of. Instead she clicks on it, bringing the images scorched into her memory to life in front of her.
The hand holding the camera shakes as that instantly recognisable sultry showman moves towards his highly focused, almost unearthly beautiful guitarist in a well-rehearsed show of temptation. She watches the familiar closeness, dark eyes locking with amber ones, and this is the part of the show where the shyer of the two turns away, always so slightly out of reach. However the show plays no differently here than it has the past hundred times she's watched this video, with the elder boy turning to meet the younger in a show of defiance, dominance, mouths crashing together briefly before the show resumes. Resumes, yes, because she has no doubt that, even just for that minute, the show stopped.
It's mesmerising, captivating, the dance of stolen moments and covert lust, and yet it only deepens the heavy weight leaden in her stomach where the rest of the world crows in delight. Yet it's only to be expected when it's her boyfriend of a year on stage moving forward to seek his best friend's kiss.
“What the fuck Ry?” Brendon yells the minute they're off stage, Spencer and Jon tactfully distracting anyone waiting to speak to them. Ryan turns and looks at him with that level gaze, unnerving and unwavering. He grabs Brendon's arm and drags him to the dressing room, slamming the door behind them.
“I'd appreciate it if you didn't go yelling at me in public,” he says coldly and Brendon stares down at the ground. Ryan has a point there, but he's unwilling to concede, too disturbed by what happened, by what they let happen up there. “And secondly,” Ryan continues, “you can't expect to keep teasing me, taunting me, without provoking a response. Not with what's going on now.”
What the hell is he meant to say to that? Apparently he doesn't have to say anything, as Ryan moves closer to him and puts his arms around Brendon's waist, drawing him closer, despite Brendon's obvious reluctance.. “Look, I just...” he begins, but Brendon cuts him off.
“I know,” he says, his tone conciliatory, “and it was bound to happen.” Ryan tips Brendon's chin up slightly so he's looking him right in the eye.
“Forgive me?” Ryan asks, and Brendon smiles despite his reservations. Ryan takes that action as a yes and kisses him until Brendon relaxes in his arms before they break apart. Long after he should be used to it, Ryan's touch still fills his head with this dizzy pleasure which leaves him, as usual, craving him as soon as he moves away.
Ryan reaches for his phone, dialling the number before catching Brendon watching him. “I'd better call her, that'll be all over the internet by now.” He must see the look which passes fleetingly over Brendon's features before he can catch it because Ryan puts the phone down and reaches for him again. Brendon pulls away from him, unwilling to give in too easily, but Ryan's insistent and finally, he relents.
Some instinct has Carmen pulling up to the venue in a taxi – the same instinct that had her calling Ryan's phone until he answered breathless and impatient – and as she walks through the doors she hear murmurs of recognition from fans on their way home. “Isn't that...?” “Isn't she...?” She ignores them all as she moves towards the stage door. The man guarding it mutters into his walkie talkie as she stands impatiently tapping her foot. She's expecting Ryan, but Zack appears in the doorway. He nods by way of greeting, whispering something to the guard before motioning for her to follow him.
They're walking down the corridor towards the dressing room when she catches sight of Jon and Spencer standing outside. When they notice her, a look of pure panic momentarily crosses Jon's face, but Spencer is totally calm. “Carmen, nice to see you. Ryan didn't say you were coming down?” It is a question, but she's in no mood to explain herself.
“Where is he?” she asks bluntly, well aware of the note of hysteria in her tone.
“I was just wondering that myself,” Spencer answers good naturedly. She gestures at the door frustratedly, asking tightly, “Have you tried in there?” Jon cuts in at this point, telling her it's locked. They're both obviously excellent liars, but they can't disguise the fact they're trying to judge what she knows, if she's seen. “Look,” she says urgently, “I have to talk to him.” She's making them uncomfortable, she can tell, but she can't stop herself. She knows he can make this okay. She takes out her phone to call him again, not missing the worried glances they exchange, but she can't tell if it's because of the way she's acting or out of concern for what will happen next. Apparently it's the latter, as the three of them freeze when the noise of the phone ringing comes from behind the dressing room door.
“Fuck,” Ryan mutters, extricating himself from where they lie entangled on the sofa to answer his ringing phone. The thing has been going off constantly, but last time he picked it up there'd been no answer; no doubt some starstruck fan lucking out and getting his number but too nervous to talk to him. Now they're evidently going to give it another go. Brendon moans, stretching out on the sofa and when her opens his eyes he sees Ryan stopped inches from his phone simply watching him. “You know what?” Ryan mutters, reaching for the Sidekick and turning it off without ever taking his eyes off of Brendon, “Fuck them.”
He straddles Brendon's waist, running his hands over his chest as he leans down to kiss him, and Brendon start working on the buttons of Ryan's shirt. It's been too long since they've had an opportunity like this, stealing time to themselves away from prying eyes, and that's probably part of the reason Ryan let Brendon get so close on stage tonight. Brendon barely remember what happened, his stage persona so far removed from who he really is that it feels like that happened to another person. He's just losing myself in the feel of Ryan, the taste of him, when they're interrupted by a voice that can only be outside the door but seeming to come from miles away.
“Ryan! I fucking know you're in there so don't give me any shit. Get your ass out here, we need to talk.”
They both stop dead, hardly daring to move in case she hears them. Well, hears Brendon, as she's said, she knows Ryan's in there. However, they both are fully aware that Carmen suspects Brendon's in there with Ryan anyway – especially if she's seen the footage of the show.
“I'll go into the bathroom,” Brendon mutters, his mind racing with the limited possibilities of an innocent escape, “tell her you didn't hear, you were writing, or you had your I-Pod in, something like that, you need to talk somewhere more private, take her outside, out of view of the door, and if she wants to talk to me I'll act like I just got here.” Ryan nods in response, buttoning his shirt back up and trying to fix his hair. When he's just about innocent looking he unlocks the door and Brendon ends up leaning against the wall in the bathroom trying to steady his breathing, thinking simply how the fuck did my life come to this?
He walks out the door with a confidence bordering on arrogance and even at the sight of him Carmen's fears seem hysterical, irrational. On the surface this is a man who can explain everything, but when he smiles at her she sees in his eyes a little boy who wonders if he'll get away with this.
She listens to him speak but it's not his words she hears but Brendon's. Ryan may be a writer, but it's his friend who has the grip on the real world. In the past few years, mostly by necessity, Brendon's become a master of deception and it seems he's taught Ryan well, the plausible lies falling easily from his mouth. They'd planned the stage stunt according to him, he thought he'd warned her. After the show he'd had sudden inspiration, locking himself in the dressing room and oblivious to the outside world until he'd heard her yelling.
He's so convincing, not too eager to share every minor detail but detailed enough to satisfy her, everything said in his usual manner, without any give-away hesitation, and despite herself she begins to believe him. He must sense this as he takes her hand, pulling her closer. “I'm sorry,” he whispers, and for a minute it sounds too meaningful, too heartfelt to be simply for making her worry. She ignores that feeling however and reaches up to kiss him lightly, trying to break into his reverie, and it works, if only partly. He smiles softly at her, but even she notices it doesn't quite reach his eyes.
When they go back into the dressing room Brendon seems to be afflicted the same way, an empty smile betraying nothing of whatever he's feeling. She searches for any sign that he's affected by their relationship, but he appears apathetic to say the least. That is until he stands up abruptly and tells them he's going for some air, that he'll see the guys back on the bus. She doesn't miss the looks the other three exchange as he walks out – something is definitely wrong with him. Jon moves to go out but Ryan stands up first. “I'll go,” he says simply, moving towards the door with a barely disguised sense of urgency.
Brendon's just lit the cigarette when Ryan comes flying round the corner, giving Brendon a disapproving look when he sees it in his hand. Brendon glares at him, a look designed to convey a couple of things – he never touched them until this thing with Ryan started, he's just had to spend the last 10 minutes making pleasant small talk with the girlfriend of the man he's... hell, he doesn't even know what to call it, and due to the previous points, him smoking is in fact Ryan's fault. He can't decide how much of that Ryan's taken from his look, so instead he shuts Ryan out, closing his eyes and drawing deep, enjoying the scorch of heat that burns down his throat. Lethal for his voice, but when he can't decide whether he wants to hit Ryan or just kiss him, it's essential for his sanity.
“What was that?” Ryan asks him impatiently, and Brendon has to take another long draw to prevent himself from slamming Ryan against the wall. Brendon loves him, but right now he could kill him.
“I don't know what you mean,” he says coldly in reply, his voice low and hard so there's no way he'll mistake how Brendon's feeling.
“Don't give me that, what was with that little display in there?” Ryan asks, immediately on the offensive. Brendon draws in again, feeling his hands starting to shake with all the emotion he's suppressing.
“Don't push me Ry,” he warns, but Ryan never could leave anything alone. He'll admit he's trying to provoke Brendon because either angry or hurt he knows how to deal with him; he has no idea how to placate this cold, emotionless imitation of his lover.
So Ryan keeps going, purposefully poking at old wounds and unwittingly creating new ones, until Brendon has him pressed against the wall, anger blazing in his eyes. “You really want to know what this is about?” he asks, his tone low, almost menacing, “This is about watching her take what I want whenever she likes when she can have it any time she likes. It's about blurred lines, from friend to lover then back again, sleepless tortured nights. What it's about is me continually having to sacrifice myself at the altar of Ryan Ross.”
It's then they both hear a shocked gasp.
Carmen leans back against the wall, her mind reeling. She'd thought that something was going on between them, but don't they always say that thinking and knowing were two very different things? It was so incredibly obvious, even in the middle of what appeared to be a very serious fight, that there was something between them – not just a history, but a future.
There's silence from around the corner and she hardly dares to look, to see what's going on between them. However, as she looks around she realises both are staring at her. She can hardly bear to look at Ryan,but when she meets Brendon's gaze there's a fire burning there that scares her, so she turns back to him and she can read nothing from Ryan's expression. He says nothing, and that's when she realises he has no idea what to say. She almost laughs at that, but the fear gripping at her chokes it.
It's only when she tastes salt on her lips that she realises she's crying. She turns away from them both, even in the midst of the turmoil of emotions they're too close for her to bear, and she begins to walk away, only praying that he'll follow, explain everything. She feels a hand around her arm and she breathes a sigh of relief; he came after her.
He tries to explain it away, but she's not so easily manipulated this time, she'll stand her ground. This is what she's thinking, but even as it's running through her mind she knows that this is her weakness standing in front of her and she could never deny him anything. So she'll gloss over the events of tonight in her mind, she'll accept his excuses and his apologies as gospel truth, and she'll stay with him in the hope that one day the man she loves will look at her just once the way he looked at Brendon tonight.
Three months later Ryan realises the mistake he made. Well, that's not true, even as he went after Carmen he knew it was a mistake; he just couldn't ignore a crying woman. He does love her, as much as he can when he spends most of his time around the one person he's ever been truly in love with.
He never realised how difficult it would be to give Brendon up, had never figured in his chivalrous plans that going after her meant giving him up entirely. That night when he'd gone back to the bus Spencer and Jon had made it very clear that that was exactly what he was going to have to do.
They'd been waiting in the lounge for him when he came back, having left Carmen at her hotel room. He'd expected them both to be angry, yes, but Spence had never looked at him like that, and the look Jon was giving him wasn't much better. “What?” he asked defensively, unable to take any more of the silence which was slowly choking him. The look Spencer gave him was pure contempt.
“You have no idea, do you?” he growled, getting up and storming out of the room. Ryan turned pleadingly to Jon, and he seemed to relent somewhat.
“He's in bed,” he said, answering Ryan's unasked question.
“Is he...” Ryan had started, but Jon interrupted.
“How could he be?” he'd replied as he walked out of the room, leaving Ryan drowning in his own thoughts.
Ryan can't help but watch Brendon now, now that he's not allowed to touch, barely even allowed to speak to him. He'd known the whole label was like family, but he hadn't expected to be left out in the cold the way he was now, although he understands it. Brendon's more cautious now, contemplates every word carefully before he speaks, and where there was energy and vibrancy in his eyes there's now a permanent melancholy which torments Ryan every time their eyes meet. Brendon used to look at Ryan as if he would save him, as if he was the hero sent to rescue him, and Ryan can't bear the disappointment as Brendon sees that Ryan isn't going to save this story.
He goes to Spencer, because no matter how cold he's been over the past few months, he's still Ryan's best friend and he will help him. After Ryan's explained himself and what he's thinking of doing, he detects a thawing in Spencer's attitude that only he could pick up on. He feigns reluctance to help, but Ryan knows that he's won and it encourages him a little. He knows however that the hardest part is yet to come.
Brendon really doesn't want to go out tonight, or any other night for that matter. He's lost his taste for drunken nights where the objective is only to find someone willing for the night, is sick of skinny little scene boys with brown hair and amber eyes that he can never stop himself from comparing and finding them lacking. He just wants to skip to the part of the situation where he wakes up and it doesn't hurt.
He goes to walk out of the bus to meet Spencer when he catches sight of himself in the mirror, almost unrecognisable. He looks older, less childish, but the cloud of sadness around him stops him from seeing how he really looks. All he sees in the mirror is someone who isn't good enough, someone who was never good enough.
They go to some club Brendon doesn't even attempt to remember the name of and they sit down with a couple of glasses of god knows what, it's just gratifying to feel it burn the back of his throat, remind him he's still alive. He can see Spencer glancing nervously at him, and momentarily he feels bad. Brendon's well aware that everyone's been worried about him, but to be honest he just wishes they'd leave him be. When everyone around you is a constant reminder of what you lost, no matter how much you love them all, it's sometimes difficult pretending you're okay.
However, there is a lot to be said for pretending you're okay Brendon thinks as he looks around the room indifferently before focusing on his drink. It's then he realises that if he's not even fooling himself, how can he think he's fooling his friends? In that moment Brendon decides that tonight is the first of the rest of his life, his misery can wait. He turns and gives Spencer a small smile, and it's a start, definitely a start.
He might just make it he thinks. Then he sees a face so familiar that his heart nearly stops.
Ryan's standing at the table unable to tear his gaze from Brendon, who seems similarly incapacitated. They stay like that, frozen in time, for a couple of seconds until Spencer kicks Ryan in the shin. Looking at Brendon, this new version he has no experience dealing with, his plans fly out of his mind. “Can we talk?” he asks, and there a few excruciating seconds pass before Brendon nods.
They go outside in silence and begin walking, each stealing guilty glances at the other. They end up in some park area, deserted at this time of night. As Ryan sits on a bench and Brendon deliberately sits as far away as possible Ryan realises they've gone this whole time without even accidentally touching, an unprecedented event.
Ryan starts talking, knows that he has to tell Brendon everything if he's going to have any chance at fixing his mistake. He tells him about the months after that night, about watching and realising that the ache wasn't going to go away because he was still as in love as ever, tells him that he left that night because it was easier to face Carmen's hurt than Brendon's. Ryan explains how he's spent his whole life running from what's best for him and whenever he feels vulnerable he's inclined to burn bridges. Each time he meets Brendon's eyes he can't remember how he ever thought him easy to read. He continues anyway, knowing that this will kill or cure them and he couldn't carry on knowing that he hadn't done everything possible to save them. Finally, he tells Brendon what he wants. He wants a future with him, a life built together, because the past couple of months have shown him that he needs Brendon in his life, wants simply to be with the man he loves.
Sometime during this the storm that's been gathering for days breaks above them and the rain starts falling, accompanied by the low roll of thunder. When Ryan's finished, Brendon stands up and Ryan sees that familiar mixture, love and hate, indecision and certainty, confusion and clarity. “I don't know Ry,” he says softly, “You broke me, but I can't imagine ever being okay without you. You have no idea how much that knowledge kills me, and I never want to be that dependant on anyone ever again. I just know that I can't stay here to think, you fuck with my head and I can't think clearly. I'll think about it, but I'm not making any promises, because I hate you for doing this to me when I thought I could survive without you. So take this as goodbye, and just know that you were the greatest lesson I was ever taught; I'll never love like this again.”
Ryan opens his door in the dead of night to find Brendon standing there, soaked through from the storm raging through the city, and he's so caught up in that sight that he almost misses what Brendon says. “Okay.” Ryan can't think what he means.
“Okay what?” he asks, sounding ridiculous even to himself.
“Okay everything. Okay to me and you, okay to a future, okay to being in love with you. Just... okay.” And with that Brendon moves back into Ryan's arms and his life like he had never left.
“So those kind of sitcoms, they always focus on two main characters, the lovers, the will-they-won't-they-didn't-they-just-oh-n
“Pete?” Ryan asks, “What the hell are you talking about?”
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