Team Jon: All is Fair in Love and War [2/7]
The Strip



* * *

On the car ride home from the restaurant Brendon’s mind was racing, swirling with anxiety. “Where to?” the driver had asked, and without even thinking, Brendon had given him Ryan’s address instead of his own.

Brendon opened his phone and texted Ryan, asking if it was okay if he came over. Ryan’s reply was quick, and despite the overwhelming feelings in his head, he smiled when he read Ryan’s reply of Definitely. He knew that everything would be okay once he got to Ryan’s place. Somehow, everything would be alright and he wouldn’t be worried anymore.

He tried to calm himself down on the quick car ride and took deep breaths in and out, willing his heartbeat to slow and his posture to relax. He didn’t want Ryan to know that something was wrong. Brendon knew that Ryan had a tendency to overreact and he didn’t see any point in getting Ryan all worked up over a rumor. A rumor that Brendon hoped with all that he was didn’t turn out to be true.

The car stopped in front of Ryan’s apartment complex and Brendon’s heart leapt when he saw Ryan leaning against the wall of his building waiting for him. Just seeing him made Brendon feel a little better and he knew that he had made the right decision telling the driver to take him there.

Brendon left the car, told the driver to take the rest of the night off, and walked towards where Ryan was leaning next to the front door of the apartment complex. “You didn’t have to wait for me outside,” he said, though he was glad that Ryan did since already he was calming down, and every moment with Ryan brought him closer to normalcy.

“I could tell you had a bad night. I was worried about you,” Ryan said and he pushed himself off of the wall and opened the door to the apartment building, letting Brendon go in first and following after him into the lobby.

“You could tell I was upset through a text message?” Brendon asked and then laughed a little chuckle. “That’s ridiculous.”

Ryan shrugged and pressed the button to the elevator, the small circle illuminating yellow as his long finger pressed against it. “Well, I could tell. I can always tell with you.”

The door to the elevator opened and Brendon and Ryan shuffled in.

“You still didn’t have to wait for me outside,” Brendon said. “I would have been fine from the car to your apartment.”

“Maybe I just wanted to see you sooner,” Ryan said, and Brendon blushed but smiled a small grin and leaned in to kiss Ryan lightly on the lips as soon as the elevator door closed shut and they were alone. The light press of their lips caused Brendon to finally relax fully, and when Ryan’s arm wrapped around his waist, he sighed out in a little puff of air.

The elevator ride wasn’t long, but Brendon allowed himself to lean against Ryan’s body and breathe in his scent, taking comfort in the familiarity of the situation and holding on tightly to it as he clung to Ryan.

When the elevator binged and the doors opened, Ryan pulled Brendon out by the hand, keeping their hands joined as they walked down the hallway towards Ryan’s apartment, and while usually Brendon would have snatched his hand away since they were in public (even remote apartment hallways could be dangerous and mostly everyone these days had a digital camera and enough knowledge of computers to upload an image to Perez Hilton), he allowed his fingers to weave through Ryan’s and even tightened his own hold on Ryan’s hand. When he looked over to see the small grin on Ryan’s face, his own smile widened, and as soon as he opened the door to his apartment, Brendon kissed him deeply.

“Not that I object,” Ryan said when Brendon pulled back, desperate for air, “but I know something is wrong.”

Brendon didn’t know how he could be nominated for an Emmy for his acting skills, yet he couldn’t even convince Ryan that everything was alright without the other boy seeing right through him.

“Do you want to talk about it?” Ryan took Brendon’s hand into his own and rubbed small circles into Brendon’s palm. “I’m a pretty good listener,” he said.

Ryan led Brendon to the couch and Brendon bit back a smirk as he saw an open book and a half-finished mug of hot chocolate sitting on the coffee table just like he had surmised earlier. “It’s nothing,” Brendon told him as Ryan sat down on the couch and pulled Brendon down beside him. Brendon slid down on the couch and leaned against Ryan’s side until the other boy moved back and Brendon snuggled in his lap. After a moment Brendon relaxed into the new position and brought his one hand up to tap mindlessly on Ryan’s knee.

“I know it’s something,” Ryan murmured as he ran a hand through Brendon’s hair. “I know how Pete and Jon can get. They’re insane, honestly.” He laughed a little at that. “If you want to vent, I won’t hold it against you.”

“No, it went fine,” Brendon said. “Actually, I did get some good news tonight at dinner.”

“Really? Did that movie deal come through that Pete was working on?” Ryan asked.

“Ry,” Brendon said, and his hand stilled on Ryan’s knee, “I told you that I don’t want to do movies. I’m comfortable where I am now.” He pushed back the thoughts that maybe someday soon he wouldn’t have anywhere to be comfortable at all, but he didn’t bring that up. He didn’t want to worry Ryan. He didn’t want to think about The Strip or falling ratings or anything that wasn’t just the two of them in that moment.

“Brendon, can I say something?” Ryan asked hesitantly and Brendon hummed noncommittally against Ryan’s thigh and let him go on. “If you ask me, I think that maybe you’re a little bit scared about expanding your horizons. You can’t stay on The Strip forever, Bren,” Ryan said and Brendon closed his eyes at the reality of those words and the seriousness of what Ryan was saying, more serious than he even knew. “You’re better than just a stupid teen sitcom. You’re a great actor and could do so much more.”

Even though normally Brendon liked nothing more than to talk about his own greatness, he really didn’t want to talk about movies anymore. He wasn’t ready. He had told Pete. He had told Jon. He had told Ryan, yet they all kept pushing him, telling him that he was better than The Strip. Still, in the back of his mind, Brendon couldn’t help but think that they were all wrong.

One thing Brendon was sure of, though, was that Ryan was too good for the show, but when he told Ryan this, the other boy only chuckled. “I’m not saying The Strip is my calling or anything, Brendon, but it’s done a lot for me. It gave me money when I had none, and it’s given me some stability. But most importantly, it brought me to you.”

Ryan’s eyes were open and vulnerable and Brendon didn’t know how to respond, so he kissed Ryan suddenly and harsh, his bruising lips trying to convey everything he felt, everything he wanted to say but couldn’t.

“But you are much more than this, Bren,” Ryan said when they parted and he brushed aside some of Brendon’s falling hair.

Brendon didn’t know what else to say, and the look in Ryan’s eyes was quickly becoming too much to take in, so he changed the subject and plopped back down in Ryan’s lap and Ryan’s hand ran through his hair again.

“Anyways, Jon told me that I’m up for an Emmy.”

The hand in Brendon’s hair stilled, and suddenly, Brendon realized the possibility that Ryan might not be happy for him. He panicked slightly and realized the possibility that Ryan could be jealous instead. The brief flurry of anxiety melted away when Ryan leaned down and kissed Brendon on the forehead. “That’s great, Bren,” he said. “You really deserve it. See? You have so much potential; even though the old suits in Hollywood recognize it. You shouldn’t limit yourself.”

The hand in his hair was back and Brendon smiled lazily and closed his eyes.

“Are you going out later?” Ryan asked.

Usually, Brendon loved the nightlife, fed off of the attention he got when he went to a club or party, but he was too comfortable, too relaxed, to even think about moving.

Brendon peered up at Ryan and bit his bottom lip nervously. “I was actually hoping that you wouldn’t mind if I stayed here. For a little while at least.” He pulled himself up to sit next to Ryan, no longer lying in his lap. “I’m not saying like all night or something like that. I don’t want to intrude. Or invite myself over. Just-”

His words were cut off as one of Ryan’s long fingers rested on Brendon’s lips, silencing him. “Don’t be stupid,” he said, smiling coyly. “Just come here.”

Brendon threw one of his legs over Ryan’s and straddled him, running his hands through Ryan’s hair before leaning down and capturing his lips in a kiss, pulling Ryan’s bottom lip with his teeth and smiling against his moan.

They kissed softly, lazy swipes of the tongue, and Brendon settled down against Ryan. He pulled back slightly and tightened his arms around the older boy, melting into Ryan’s embrace and trying to muffle a yawn against his shoulder.

“Tired?” Ryan asked and Brendon nodded against him.

All of a sudden, a heavy exhaustion had hit Brendon, a culmination of a whole day of insanity finally weighing him down.

Ryan’s strong hands found their way to Brendon’s waist and pulled him up into a standing position so that he too could get off the couch. He took Brendon’s hand within his own and led him across the apartment to where Brendon knew from countless visits was where Ryan’s room was.

He led Brendon to the bed and helped him sit up so that he could take off his shoes. Brendon tried to untie them blearily but Ryan stepped in and slipped each shoe off when Brendon couldn’t manage to work the knots. Then Ryan helped Brendon get under the covers before settling on the other side, taking his own shoes off, turning off the light, and joining Brendon under the sheets.

“Sorry,” Brendon murmured, burrowing his head against Ryan’s chest as his arms encircled him.

“What?” Ryan asked. “What are you sorry for?”

Sleep was threatening to overcome Brendon but he peered blearily at Ryan and managed a sheepish smile. “You were probably anticipating something a little more fun when I texted you.” He laughed lightly. “You got sleep instead of sex. Probably not what you were expecting.”

Brendon’s eyes fell shut. The bed was so comfortable and Ryan was so warm next to him and Brendon could feel himself slipping off to sleep.

Ryan kissed Brendon briefly on the lips, lingered and smiled. He pulled Brendon closer to him and Brendon nuzzled into the curve of Ryan’s body, sighing contently. “No,” Ryan said. “All I was expecting was you.”


* * *

Brendon was awoken by the strangest sensation. The sun was barely filtering through the blinds, so he knew that it was early. A quick look around reminded him that he was at Ryan’s apartment when he was suddenly brought back to that strange sensation forming in his stomach by a teasing swirl of a tongue in his bellybutton.

“Ugh,” Brendon managed to gasp out, and when he looked down, he was greeted with the sight of an unruly mop of brown hair.

“Morning.” Ryan smiled up at Brendon as he pressed a kiss just below his bellybutton, rolling over Brendon’s legs to settle himself between them. “Good sleep?” he asked innocently, but before Brendon could choke out an answer, Ryan’s hands trailed down and grasped at Brendon’s quickly hardening dick. “Didn’t wake you up, did I?” Ryan grinned cheekily, and he leaned down to give the tip of Brendon’s cock a quick lap of the tongue.

Brendon ignored the questions and groaned as he wove his hands through Ryan’s hair. Ryan’s grip around his cock tightened before he leaned down to twirl his tongue around the head of it, and Brendon lifted himself up on his upper arms.

Ryan looked up at Brendon questioningly but smiled as Brendon reached for one of the extra pillows and put it behind his head, propping himself up.

“What?” Brendon grinned. “I want a good view,” he said, which earned him a sharp bite to his upper thigh, but Ryan soothed it with the slow drag of his tongue.

Brendon kept his hands tight in Ryan’s hair and tried to move him from where he was kissing and licking at Brendon’s thighs to his previous location, where Ryan’s fingers were still firmly wrapped around him. He felt Ryan’s low chuckle against his upper thigh and felt it run through him, only adding to the increasing pressure in his groin.

“Come on,” Brendon pleaded. “Ryan, stop being a tease.”

His hips surged up unconsciously as Ryan’s tongue once again teased at him, licking gingerly at his slit, and Ryan’s other hand, the one not around Brendon’s cock, pushed back on Brendon’s hips and held him firmly against the bed. When he was sure that Brendon would remain still, he lightened the press of his palm, but his hand didn’t leave Brendon’s hip.

Ryan licked broad strokes up Brendon’s cock, adding a small swirl of the tongue around the head with each swoop up. Brendon’s voice caught in his throat, but he managed to make encouraging sounds, finally breaking out in a loud moan when Ryan opened his mouth wide and inched down Brendon’s cock until his lips hit his curled hand.

He moved his mouth and hand in unison, lavishing Brendon’s throbbing erection with attention and he brought his hand off of Brendon’s hip, allowing him his tiny thrusts up into Ryan’s mouth.

The visual was almost too much for Brendon to handle, watching his cock shining with spit thrust in and out of Ryan’s mouth, lips perfectly clinging. Ryan’s eyes were fixed upon his own and they were darker than their normal light cinnamon color, altered by lust.

When Ryan pulled off, Brendon objected loudly, and a “No” even escaped his mouth when Ryan pulled Brendon down off of his pillows by his legs so he no longer had a good view. Ryan shushed Brendon’s objections and grabbed one of the pillows before beckoning Brendon to raise his hips, and he slid the pillow underneath him.

“Trust me,” Ryan said, his voice lower than normal, huskier, “this will be better.” He lifted one of his fingers to his mouth and sucked it in.

Brendon could see the movements of Ryan’s tongue through the thin skin of his cheeks and he was irrationally jealous of Ryan’s finger.

When Ryan pulled the finger out, he repositioned himself once again between Brendon’s legs, but curved them at his knees, bringing the feet to rest upon the bed and tilting his hips. Ryan’s one hand wrapped itself around Brendon’s cock again and he leaned down once more to take Brendon’s erection in his mouth.

The returned up and down movement along his cock almost made Brendon forget about the finger, but he was reminded of it when he felt Ryan’s long finger circling around his entrance, teasing before pressing in.

Ryan sucked him in harder and took him deeper down his throat to soothe Brendon through it. Brendon made a noise in the back of his throat, not of pain, just of unfamiliarity as Ryan thrust his finger in and out of Brendon. Usually, Ryan was at the receiving end of this, though when Ryan curled his finger up inside Brendon, all thoughts flew out his head.

He groaned, and even though he couldn’t see Ryan, he could hear the smile in his voice when he said, “Told you this would be better,” before his cock was once again swallowed down. The combined sensation of his cock in Ryan’s mouth and Ryan’s finger buried deep within him, pressing firmly against something that made him gasp, quickly started to overwhelm Brendon.

“Fuck,” he moaned out. “Fuck, Ryan. Shit. I’m gonna come,” he let out in warning, but he didn’t bother to pull Ryan off. He knew better, and sure enough, Ryan only quickened his motions and pulled back slightly on Brendon’s cock, mouth firmly overtop when Brendon twitched and came hard.

Ryan lazily licked at Brendon’s softening cock and eased his finger out before kissing his way up Brendon’s chest, finally landing on his mouth where Brendon kissed him hungrily.

“Good morning,” Ryan repeated again, smiling brightly, obviously proud of himself.

“Yeah,” Brendon agreed, matching Ryan’s grin. “You could definitely say that.”

Brendon moved the pillow out from underneath him and laid his arms out to the side, allowing Ryan to snuggle against his side before bringing his arm back around to hold him tightly. Ryan nudged at Brendon’s cheek with his nose and sighed contentedly. “I like waking up next to you.”

Brendon hummed in agreement and kissed Ryan’s forehead. They laid there for a while in easy silence, with Ryan trailing light brushes of his fingers up and down Brendon’s chest, once in a while leaning up to seek out a gentle press of lips

“Do you have plans today?” Brendon asked, already envisioning a day where they didn’t leave Ryan’s room, where they didn’t leave Ryan’s bed.

“I was planning on writing a little today,” Ryan said and Brendon simply made a noise of understanding in the back of his throat.

He didn’t know much about Ryan’s writings; whenever he came in when the other boy was writing, Ryan would flip over his notebook or close his computer screen with a sympathetic smile and a hesitant “Not yet, but soon,” when Brendon asked to read something.

“But I’d rather spend time with you,” he added and Brendon grinned. “So, looks like we have the whole morning ahead of us, yeah?” Ryan asked, nails lightly skating across Brendon’s stomach and Brendon nodded. If he were a kitten, he knew he would have been purring right about now. “Do you have plans later tonight?”

“Not really,” he said, letting his mind wander with the gentle motions of the pads of Ryan’s fingers racing across his abdomen until he remembered, “except I have something with Keltie later.”

Ryan’s fingers stopped their dance along Brendon’s skin, halted, and Brendon could feel them begin to press down hard, and he wiggled out from underneath the sudden bruising pressure.

“Something with Keltie?” Ryan asked. “What are you doing with her?”

Brendon yawned and stretched his arms above his head before he shrugged. “She wanted to go over lines or something tonight at her place. For next week’s episode. I don’t know. She’s making dinner, so at least I’ll get food.”

“Is it… Is it like a date?” Ryan asked, his voice hesitant and Brendon laughed at the question.

“No,” he said, leaning down to kiss Ryan’s forehead, but Ryan moved away to the other side of the bed, sitting up against the headboard where he crossed his arms tightly across his chest.

“Sounds like a date to me,” he muttered darkly. “Saturday night dinner? At her apartment?”

Brendon could hear the edge developing in his voice, the edge so like the one that he heard Daniel use week after week on The Strip.

The warning signs were all there now and he tried to curb the impending argument. Brendon ran a hand through his hair in exasperation. “Well, it’s not a date, okay. Promise.”

Ryan wasn’t appeased. “Are you sure that Keltie knows that it’s not a date?”

“Of course she knows it’s not a date,” Brendon said, hoping that those words would end the argument, but he knew better when he saw Ryan bite the inside of his cheek.

Ryan’s face was flushed red, but unlike the pretty, even blush of embarrassment, or the burning heat when he was turned on. The red was sprinkled in blotches across his cheeks and he rolled his eyes at Brendon. “Well, why should she not suppose that it is? It’s not like she knows that you’re dating me or anything,” Ryan said, and suddenly, Brendon was faced with the glare, the one that Daniel was famous for, the one that even on set made Brendon feel uncomfortable.

Before he could stop himself, the words made it out of his mouth. “Is that what we’re doing here, Ryan? Dating?”

They rarely went out together, only when the studio demanded it to cause some hype, but dinners out together, trips to the movies, a fun round of miniature golf were all foreign to Brendon when they were associated with his relationship with Ryan. They had passion, they had heat, they had sex - - that was it. The night before made its way into Brendon’s mind, Ryan’s concerned voice and his hand soothing through his hair, the low murmur of his voice and how it had made Brendon’s heart twist, but he tried to push it away.

“Is that what we are?”

Ryan shook his head in annoyance and flung the sheet off of him as he pushed his way out of his bed, looming over the bed in only his boxers. “I don’t know, Bren. You never want to talk about it. I can never get an answer out of you. So tell me, what is this to you? What am I to you? What are we doing here? Is it just fucking? Is that what I am?” Ryan bent down low over the bed, resting on his arms, and Brendon could see the tense sinewy of his arms shaking. “What am I to you?”

Ryan straightened himself up and held his hands out in front of himself as if offering himself over to Brendon, giving himself up completely, as he waited for Brendon’s answer.

“I don’t know,” Brendon said, swallowing hard, and Ryan walked over to his dresser to grab a pair of sweatpants and a shirt out before throwing them on.

“Well, maybe you should think about it. I’m leaving,” he said as he stormed out of his room. “Have a great date with Keltie tonight. I’m sure that you will,” he yelled as he made his way through his apartment.

“Ryan!” Brendon yelled after him, scrambling for his boxers somewhere along the bottom of the bed before giving up and running out of Ryan’s bedroom, holding a loose bed sheet around himself. “Ryan, come on. Don’t do this, come back.”

Ryan hesitated at the door but didn’t turn back to look at Brendon. His fingers gripped the handle, and even from across the room, Brendon could see his fingers turn white before he said quietly and coldly, “You can let yourself out.”

* * *

Every so often during the day, mini panic attacks had been hitting Brendon, formulating up in his mind and gaining momentum before they raked through his body, shortening his breath. As he stood outside Keltie’s apartment, another wave of anxiety passed through him. Ryan hadn’t answered any of the phone calls that he had made or responded to any of the texts. Brendon had stayed in his apartment well into the afternoon before he finally retreated to his own, but Ryan hadn’t come back.

Brendon’s grip around the script in his hand tightened, and the loud noise of the paper crinkling slowly brought him out of his head and back to the moment.

He had thought about calling Keltie earlier and cancelling, but if he did that, it would almost be like admitting to Ryan that something was wrong, that a friendly dinner between two cast mates meant something more than just business with a side of friendship. If he had cancelled, he would only be playing into Ryan’s fears and suspicions. Plus, Brendon could do what he wanted. He was his own person; he and Ryan hadn’t promised each other anything.

Those words circling in his head, Brendon knocked firmly on Keltie’s door.

“Just a minute,” she called out, and Brendon played with his cell phone in his pocket.

Just played with it, he assured himself, he was certainly not thinking about calling Ryan again and knocking some sense into him.

Keltie opened the door, and the first thought that Brendon had when he saw her was that he was severely underdressed. All at once, his comfortable sweatpants and old high school track t-shirt didn’t seem like the best idea, even though he had thrown them on earlier, assuring himself that not-dates required not-date clothing. Keltie was wearing tight black pants and a low sparkly top, and Brendon really hoped that she planned on going to the clubs right after they were done and just didn’t feel like changing.

“Hey,” Brendon said to fill the silence, anything to draw attention away from his old wrinkly shirt with a hole under the left arm. Not that he didn’t look hot anyway, he thought. He knew he did.

Keltie didn’t really seem deterred by Brendon’s clothing choice and merely smiled and opened the door to let him in. “Hey, Bren. Come on in,” she said, and Brendon gave her a timid grin and passed by her, trying not to brush up against her even though when he started to move through the door, she suddenly crowded him to close it behind him.

“Right,” Brendon said, looking around her apartment.

It was clean, immaculately so, and Brendon mentally reminded himself to ask her the name of her cleaning service at a later point. The table in the living room, which was visible from the doorway, was set and candles flickered in the dim lighting.

“So,” Brendon said, eyeing the bottle of wine on the table and his nerves began to act up again. Trying to keep the situation within his control, he said, “I read through the script and I think that maybe we should try to go with a little subtly. You know, give the show a nice shake-up.” He held the script in front of him like a shield, paging through it to find their dialogue. “Like here, even though it says you’re screaming at me, maybe we should downplay it.”

“Let’s worry about that later,” Keltie said, and even though Brendon’s fingers tightened around the script when she started to pull it away, she managed to pry it from his grasp and lay it down on the table by the door. “Why don’t you just come in and we’ll have some dinner? We can discuss business afterwards.”

Her smile was wide and Brendon couldn’t quite place the look in her eyes, but suddenly a whiff of food made his mouth water and he nodded and followed Keltie towards the dining room, sitting down in one of the chairs when she beckoned.

“It smells great,” he said. “Where did you order from?”

Keltie laughed, a light, tinkling melody. “I made it myself. You know, I’m actually an amazing cook.”

“Oh,” Brendon said. “Sorry, just most people that I know don’t know how to cook for themselves.”

Keltie passed by him, hand trailing across his back and she leaned in. “I’m not like most people,” she whispered in his ear, and when Brendon turned around, he could see her slip into the kitchen.

Suddenly, despite the promise of food, his stomach was unsettled. He looked around the room again frantically: candles, wine, shit, music. By the time Keltie called out “I hope you’re hungry,” from the kitchen, Brendon was 90% sure that he had unknowingly agreed to a date. When he heard her add, “But don’t forget to leave room for desert,” that extra 10% melted away and he could feel his breath getting shorter as another panic attack threatened to overtake him.

Shit, he thought to himself, definitely a date.

“I thought we could just start with a salad,” Keltie said, carrying a crystal bowl out of the kitchen, smiling demurely overtop the ornate bowl. She placed it next to Brendon’s plate and leaned over to serve him a helping.

Brendon pointedly looked straight ahead at the flickering candles, briefly wondering what would happen if he knocked one over. Maybe she had a really sensitive smoke alarm and the fire department would come and interrupt this not-a-date-but-definitely-a-date dinner.

He could still feel her lingering by his shoulder, but when he looked over, she only gave him a sly smile before moving to the other end of the table and serving herself some salad before sitting down.

From across the table, she smirked at him, looked down at her plate before lifting her eyes back up to Brendon’s through the curve of her bangs. Brendon had been working with Keltie for nearly four years and he knew that look. Sure, he had only seen that look before on the set of The Strip, but still, Brendon knew that all the scenes where Keltie used that look ended the same way.

He took a gulp of wine. “Great salad, Keltie,” he said as he shoveled a large forkful into his mouth. “I can’t wait to see what you made for the main course. We should probably eat quickly though, huh? Get to work. You’re probably going to a club after this, right?” He used his fork to point at Keltie’s outfit and to quiet himself since his mouth seemed to have a mind of its own. He often became chatty when he was nervous.

“No, no, take your time,” she said. “I don’t have anywhere I have to be later. We can take all night if we want.” And no, Brendon was definitely not imagining that look in her eyes.

“Yeah…” Brendon said. He didn’t know what to do. His mind was swirling with different options and the only thing that managed to come through and beat out in a mantra was “Ryan was right. Ryan was right. Ryan was right.”

“I mean,” Keltie said, leaning forward on the table, and once again Brendon tried to avoid looking down her shirt, even though she obviously wanted him to, “we’ve been working with each other for four years and we barely know each other. I just thought that tonight would be a good chance to rectify that.”

Brendon scratched the back of his head. “Well, we’re both so busy. You know, you with your life. Me with mine. But I’d say that we’re pretty good friends, right Kelts? You and me? We’re good friends.” He was rambling. He knew it, but he couldn’t stop. Brendon hoped that somehow Keltie would pick up the hint, read between the lines, and not flash him that smile again.

She nodded. “Yeah, Bren. I’d say that we’re friends.” She got up off her seat and picked up her plate, rounding the side of the table to get Brendon’s too. “Friends is great and all,” she said, reaching down to pick up Brendon’s plate, “but I’ve always felt that you and I had something more going on.”

Instead of picking up his plate, she let her own fall overtop and her hand made its way cupping the side of Brendon’s neck, tilting his face up until they were eye to eye and only inches apart.

“Keltie,” Brendon said in a voice that he hoped she understood was warning, telling her no.

“Brendon,” she breathed, leaning down, and Brendon, panicking, turned his head to the side just as Keltie’s lips descended. They hit the corner of his mouth and he reached up to grab her hand, pulling it away from his neck.

“Keltie,” he said again and shook his head, “you’re great, but no.”

“No?” she repeated, her eyebrows coming together in confusion and she pulled her hands away from Brendon and placed them on her hip. “What do you mean, no?”

Brendon sighed. “It’s not that I don’t like you,” he started.

“Okay…” Keltie said and started to tap her foot. “Fine, you like me; that’s great. I like you too, so why no?”

“I like you, just not in that way,” he said, trying to keep his voice as low and soothing as possible, even though inside he wanted to grab her and shake her for proving Ryan right.

“Are you seeing someone else?” Keltie asked, and Brendon knew that she really didn’t get it, didn’t understand why he didn’t want her.

He shook his head. “No, not really. I don’t know. Maybe.” As if it wasn’t confusing enough with Ryan, Brendon really wasn’t ready to define his relationship with Ryan to other people, especially Keltie. “I’m just not interested in dating anyone right now,” he decided upon and Keltie’s face fell. “You really are great though, Keltie,” he repeated and he meant it. Keltie was sweet and fun and he loved to hang out with her, he just didn’t feel anything more for her beyond simple friendship.

“Sure,” Keltie said, and she picked up the plates and hurried to the kitchen. “Bren, not to be overemotional or anything,” she said, peering out of the kitchen, “but could we maybe not do this now?”

Brendon stood up and started to walk towards Keltie but she held up a hand, halting his movements.

“Are you sure?” he asked. “We can still have dinner. Read through the script. As friends.”

Keltie shook her head. “I think it’s probably best if you just left,” she said.

Brendon nodded. “If you’re sure,” he said, and even though he felt bad for Keltie, for her misunderstanding, he was glad that he would be able to go out and find Ryan now and talk to him.

“Yeah,” Keltie said. “I’ll just see you on Monday, okay?” Her voice was small and Brendon’s heart ached for her, but he said “Sure” and headed for the door.

“We’re still friends though, right, Keltie?” Brendon asked her, giving her one of his hopefully soon to be award-winning smiles.

“Of course we are,” she said, and even though she didn’t sound altogether sure, Brendon left it at that, waved goodbye over his shoulder, and left the apartment.

He closed the door behind him and took a couple of deep breaths as he leaned against the wall. While the dinner didn’t go exactly as he planned, it wasn’t a complete disaster. Brendon knew that Keltie was a little upset at the moment, but she would get over it and everything would go back to normal between them. He dug his cell phone out of his pocket as he headed down the hallway and pressed the button to the elevator.

There were no missed calls or text messages, but Brendon didn’t really worry. The doors opened to the elevator and he got in. He played with the buttons of his cell as he watched the floors go by, waiting until he had service again to call Ryan. The doors opened again and he left the elevator, crossed the lobby and made it out into the cool night air.

Brendon stood to the side of the door, opened his cell phone, and dialed Ryan’s number by heart, his fingers flying across the keyboard. The phone rang and went to voicemail. Brendon didn’t leave a message but called again. He knew that eventually Ryan would pick up. The phone went to voicemail again but Brendon wasn’t deterred. He dialed the number once more, and this time, on the third ring, he heard a click of someone answering it and his heart leaped.

“Ryan,” he said into the phone, not bothering to hide his excitement that he picked up. “Thank God, I’ve been trying to reach you all day,” he said.

“Hello?” a voice said into the phone, and Brendon didn’t recognize it. “Hello?”

“Hello?” Brendon said, his heartbeat slowing. “Hello, Ryan?”

“What?” the voice said, and wherever he was, it was loud. Brendon could hear music blaring in the background and spontaneous bursts of laughter. “Did you say Ryan?”

“This is Ryan’s phone,” Brendon said, quickly loosing his patience. “Let me talk to Ryan,” he said and then added, “Who is this?”

The noise was getting louder in the background and Brendon had to press his ear firmly against his cell to hear anything.

“This is Spencer,” the voice said. “Ryan’s on the dance floor right now. Can I take a message?”

“What?” Brendon said. Ryan was on the dance floor? He figured he must have misheard.

“Spencer,” Spencer repeated.

Brendon shook his head, “No,” he yelled. “I want to talk to Ryan.”

“He’s dancing,” Spencer said. “I can take a message.”

Brendon sighed. “Can you tell him that Brendon called?”

“Oh,” Spencer said his voice suddenly quieter. “Shit, I wasn’t supposed to answer the phone if it was you.”

“Wait, what?” Brendon asked, but Spencer mumbled a half-hearted farewell and the phone went dead.

* * *

The rest of the weekend had passed by so slowly that after a while, Brendon was almost positive that he had some sort of time-altering disease. Other than the pick-up from Spencer on Saturday night, Brendon’s phone calls to Ryan had remained unanswered.

After coming home from Keltie’s apartment, Brendon had all but collapsed on his plush sofa, dialing Ryan’s number over and over, and only leaving the comfort of the overstuffed pillows once in a while, and only if he really needed to.

He had briefly toyed with the idea of going to Ryan’s apartment, but the thought of sitting outside his door, waiting for him to get home, was too much for Brendon. Plus, he’d have to leave his couch, and Brendon wasn’t too sure he was ready for that. The events of Saturday had overwhelmed him, and despite his constant stream of calls to Ryan, the idea of becoming a hermit wasn’t totally unappealing.

But now, Brendon was standing in front of Ryan’s dressing room. It was Monday morning, and even though he was a good hour early for their weekly read-through of the script, Brendon knew that Ryan had probably already been here for hours. He was an early riser and often came in early to the studio.

Ryan had once told Brendon that he found something wholly inspiring about a quiet television set, as if the lack of people and empty background sets allowed for untapped creativity to flow. Whatever the reason, Brendon knew that Ryan often came in early to write, though sometimes, in the past, Brendon would come in early too, but that was usually to distract Ryan.

Brendon knocked on the door to Ryan’s dressing room and waited for him to open the door, sticking his one hip to the side and quickly messing up his hair a little like he knew Ryan liked. The door opened, and just like Saturday night with the phone call, someone other than Ryan answered. In fact, it was the same someone.

“Spencer,” Brendon said, his posture straightening and he reached his hand up to flatten down his hair, suddenly feeling ridiculous. “Oh, um, hi.”

Even though Brendon knew that Spencer was only an intern and should probably be intimidated by Brendon, after a second of staring into those bright blue eyes, Brendon wished he could look away, suddenly even more nervous.

When Spencer spoke, his voice was calm and even, though underneath it all, Brendon could hear a hint of authority that even his ego- which was constantly reminding him of his place: superior to others- didn’t dare to undermine.

“What do you want, Brendon?” he asked and his blue eyes kept on staring straight into him, reading him, and Brendon couldn’t look away.

“Is Ryan here?” Brendon asked, his voice coming out more timidly than he had wished for. He cleared his throat and tried again, faking confidence. After all, he was the star of a hit television show; he could deal with a suddenly strangely intimidating intern. Or at least, pretend he could. “I want to speak with Ryan,” he repeated, his voice harder this time, though after a couple of moments passed and Spencer didn’t respond, he hastily added an almost whining “please.”

Brendon kicked himself for caving, but when after Spencer stared him down for a few more long moments and opened the door to the dressing room to let Brendon in, he figured it was worth it.

Ryan was standing next to his vanity staring over at Brendon and Spencer. Seeing Ryan there brought back flashes in Brendon’s mind when Ryan had been bent over, hands sliding, desperately pushing back against Brendon as he moaned obscenities, watching himself come undone in the mirror.

He looked as gorgeous, as usual, and Brendon didn’t see any signs on Ryan that pointed to a sleepless weekend spent worrying about their relationship. Or lack of one.

“Is this cool?” Spencer asked Ryan, jerking his head towards Brendon. “I can just tell him to leave if you want.”

“I’m right here, you know,” Brendon said, getting angry. “I can hear you.”

Spencer ignored Brendon and simply asked again. “Ryan?”

Ryan looked a little dazed, but he nodded at Spencer, shaking his head a little and focusing his eyes. “It’s fine, Spence,” he said, and Brendon crinkled his forehead in confusion. There was a Spence now? He hadn’t even known that Ryan and Spencer really knew each other, but now Ryan was already shortening his name, being all friend-like. “Can you just give us a moment?”

Spencer shot Ryan a look, and Brendon got even more frustrated. They even had a secret eye language, for fuck’s sake! It was getting quite ridiculous. Whatever they were saying with their secret glances, it seemed that Ryan won, because Spencer said, “Sure. No problem, but if you need me just call,” and left the dressing room, shooting Brendon a hard glare before he left, and shut the door with a loud slam.

“So, are you and Spencer friends now?” Brendon asked and Ryan shrugged.

“He’s a pretty cool guy,” Ryan said, not really looking at Brendon, and he picked at the hem of his shirt.

“Yeah,” Brendon said vaguely. “He answered your phone on Saturday,” he said, and he wasn’t fishing for information about what Ryan was doing Saturday night, he really wasn’t.

Ryan didn’t bite. “He told me.”

“Oh,” Brendon responded and just to fill the silence he added, “Well, he seems nice,” even if he wasn’t really sure if he meant it.

“He is,” Ryan said. “He’s actually going to be rooming with me for a little bit until he saves up enough money to get his own place. He’s been crashing with some pretty shady people, apparently.”

A flash of something ran through Brendon’s body and he frowned before he could stop it. “You barely know the guy, Ryan.”

“I don’t know,” Ryan said, his voice suddenly sounding defensive, “he’s a great guy. I’m doing him a favor. Jesus, Brendon, don’t pretend like you care when I know that you don’t.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Brendon asked, and the slight anger that was pulsing through his body gave way to disbelief. “Of course I care.”

“Sure you do,” Ryan said scathingly. “That’s why you left me to go on a fucking date with Keltie.”

The air in the dressing room was suddenly incredibly tense unlike it had ever been between Ryan and Brendon before. Usually, if there was any tension between the two of them, it usually ended up in a very physical release: one of them on their knees, backs pushed up against walls, heavy groping in the backseat of a limo even, but Brendon knew that this was different. Ryan had his arms crossed against his chest, and when Brendon took a step closer to him, his posture didn’t relax, but stiffened.

Brendon ignored the lurching fall in his stomach caused by Ryan’s reaction and continued a slow pace towards the other boy until they were only a few feet apart.

“Listen,” Ryan started, but Brendon interrupted him.
“I’m sorry, Ryan,” he said, and though he hadn’t said those two words to anyone since he had left home, cleaned out his childhood room and told his mom that he was dropping out of school, the words didn’t hesitate to fall from his mouth. “You were right about Keltie. You were right and I’m so sorry. She thought – but I didn’t – I didn’t because of you.” Brendon tried to close the space between the two of them, pull Ryan tight to him and erase the whole weekend with a kiss, but Ryan held up a hand to block Brendon from coming closer.

“So it was a date,” Ryan said. His voice was steady and held little inflection but Brendon could see the hard swallow in his throat.

“It doesn’t matter,” Brendon said. “I talked to her and told her that I wasn’t interested. Told her - ” He broke off. He hadn’t really told her why; hadn’t given her a reason, not really.

“Did you tell her about us?” Ryan asked, eyes suddenly flaring up, and they were daring, and if Brendon looked hard enough, he could see the tiny bit of hope that clung to them. “Did you tell her about me?”

Brendon hesitated. He knew the right answer, knew what Ryan wanted him to say, but Ryan’s open eyes, that bright amber, made it impossible for him to lie. “Not exactly,” he admitted. “Just because we decided not to tell anyone,” he added quickly. “Remember? Back when this all began. We both decided that telling people could only cause problems. Paparazzi and all that. Remember?” Brendon was suddenly desperate as Ryan’s eyes shut down. “You wanted to keep it a secret too,” he reminded.

“Well, maybe I don’t want to anymore,” Ryan said. “Fuck, Brendon. It was great at first, sneaking around. It made things exciting. Hotter. But it’s been over a year. A year of secret meetings and hiding hickeys. A year of pretending that I hate you when all I want to do is kiss you every time I see you. Or even just hold your hand. Anything to be close to you.”

Ryan’s defenses were falling and Brendon stepped closer still. “All I want is to be close to you too,” he said, and finally he leaned down and brought his lips to meet Ryan’s.

It had only been two days since their last kiss, but Brendon melted into Ryan and sighed happily. When Ryan’s hands came up to his chest and pushed back firmly, he groaned at the sudden lack of contact.

“No, Brendon,” Ryan said, leaning back. “I want to be with you in public. I want to be able to kiss you and not worry about people finding out our secret. I want to be able to be with you for real.”

Brendon’s hand reached up and followed along Ryan’s sharp jaw line and Ryan leaned against him despite the tumultuous look in his eyes.

“You are with me for real,” Brendon assured him. “This,” he said, pointing between them, “you and me, this is for real.”

Ryan shook his head. “No it’s not. Something can’t be real for just two people. It can’t be real if it’s only for us, if we hide it from other people. You know, Brendon, people are eventually going to wonder why you and I don’t have girlfriends.” He let out a grunt of frustration. “I don’t understand why we don’t just let everyone know. If you really want this, really want me, what’s the problem? What’s holding you back? I’ll be there with you. We can do this together,” Ryan said, and his eyes were pleading.
The neckline on Brendon’s shirt was suddenly way too tight and he felt like he was suffocating. “We can’t,” he said, and Ryan shook his head, biting his lower lip. “I’m sorry, Ryan. I’m just not ready.”

Ryan pulled away, but Brendon reached to bring him back to him.

“Hey, this doesn’t mean I don’t want to be with you. I do.”

“And what is this then?” Ryan asked. “This is what started this whole thing, Brendon. I don’t even know what the fuck we are. Are we even anything at all?” His voice was rising again.

“Of course we’re something,” Brendon assured him. “We’re you and me and we work. Why do we have to put labels on things?”

“Oh grow up, Brendon. You’re not in high school anymore even if you’re going to be stuck in fucking Meyer’s Academy for the rest of your life.” Ryan’s words were harsh and Brendon’s throat constricted with each stinging word. “You never take a chance. Not with anything.”

“I took a chance with you,” Brendon pleaded. “God, Ryan. You have no idea how difficult it was for me at first. This thing with you? You have no idea how hard it was for me to accept. For me to come to terms with my feelings.”

“That’s because you never let me in,” Ryan said, and the angry flush of red was back. “I can’t just be your secret anymore, Brendon,” he resigned, and his voice suddenly lost its edge and grew quiet.

Brendon’s eyes frantically searched Ryan’s face looking for a clue, anything that would help him out. “What are you saying?”

“I can’t do this anymore.”

Brendon’s breathing was growing labored and he shook his head disbelievingly. “No, no, Ryan. We can still do this,” he said desperately and his chest hurt. It actually hurt as he reached out for Ryan.

“No,” Ryan said, and he backed away from Brendon’s searching hand.

“Are you breaking up with me?” Brendon asked, laughing a little because he suddenly realized if he didn’t, he just might start crying.

“I could never get a commitment from you, Bren. How can we end something that never even really started?” Ryan’s eyes were sad but his words were firm; final. He started to walk towards the door of his dressing room.

“You can’t do this,” Brendon said frantically, following Ryan to where he was still standing by the door.

“I have to,” Ryan said. “I love you, but I can’t let you do this to me anymore.”

He opened the door slightly and slid through the small opening before leaving Brendon alone in his dressing room staring at the blank, white door.

Brendon’s heart was racing and he realized that his hands were shaking as Ryan’s words rang through his ears. He leaned against the wall just as his knees gave out, and he sunk down, laying his head in his lap.

Despite it all, the only thing that Brendon could think of was that it was the first time Ryan had said “I love you,” and now it meant nothing.

Part three