you're all i've ever wanted, all i've ever dreamed of. [1/1]
Title: You're All I've Ever Wanted, All I've Ever Dreamed Of.
Rating: NC17
POV: Third, Brendon.
Disclaimer: I own nothing. Jen is santixcore and she owns herself, the facts about her, and her her brother.
Pairing: Brendon/Ryan, Brendon/Mason [I know it's a weird pairing, but please give it a chance]
Summary:
“Then who the hell do I blame? It sure as hell wasn’t MY idea to move my ass all the way to fucking TEXAS. What’s here for you, mom? A job? No. A life? No. A boyfriend? Oh! I believe so! One you just happened to meet online which you, of all people, should know isn’t safe! It’s like your contradicting yourself in every way now!” Brendon screams, tears now falling down his cheeks. “You can say it’s not your fault, but if I were in Vegas right now my boyfriend wouldn’t be in the hospital and I wouldn’t have just made the biggest mistake of my life.”
A/N: Italics are the thoughts, exception of the flashback. It's over 7,000 words and I've been working on it since March. I'm just really glad it's over! I know the Brendon/Mason is weird, REALLY weird, but I'd really appreciate it if you read it. (:
Dedications: santixcore. makeapanicscene for betaing. and xxwhenitrains just because.
Brendon sat outside of his new house in his new neighborhood, in a new state. He didn’t see the point in moving; he and his mom were perfectly fine in Vegas. His mother, however, disagreed and was absolutely positive that Texas was the perfect place for them for now. Brendon knew it was because of a guy she had met online.
So he and his older siblings packed their things and were soon on their way to Texas which brought us to him now, sitting there, with his iPod in his ears. His mother told him to go and make new friends, but that was impossible. Brendon was socially awkward; he couldn’t hold a conversation for longer than five minutes. Even his older siblings would tease him about it, and that definitely didn’t help at all.
Kids younger and older were riding their bikes down the street in a hurry. One of them had a guitar on his back and he looked like he was late for something. Brendon sighed, getting up off of his front porch and heading for the mailbox.
When he was told they were moving to Texas of all places, Brendon thought of dirt, sand, hot weather and cowboys. He didn’t expect to see people like him, and he definitely didn’t expect to be living in an area with grass.
He looked down the street left and right and saw no one. Sighing once more, he walked back to his new house to sulk inside where it was at least cold.
“Brendon!” his mother exclaimed once he was inside. “Did you make any friends?”
It was a stupid question, really, because he had been outside all of five minutes. It was even more stupid of her to ask him a question when his iPod was in his ears, Blink 182 playing on full blast. Especially when she knew that if he was listening to his music, he should be left alone. Aggravated, he pulled his ear buds out of his ears and glared at her.
“No,” he said shortly, turning on his heels and dashing up the stairs to his new bedroom. He hated the word ‘new’.
In his room was a bed, a dresser, and about six thousand boxes of his stuff, most of which he didn’t even need. He sat down on his bed, staring at all of the unpacked boxes.
Why do I have so much shit?
Eventually-two hours later-he stopped staring at the boxes and began to unpack them. Most of the boxes were clothes, he found out, some of which were his sisters, and the other boxes were either CDs or movies. Oh, and his computer. That was his baby and it was his only way of communicating with his Vegas friends, Ryan and Spencer. Sure, there was his cell phone, but Ryan didn’t have texting and the boy didn’t talk on the phone, and Spencer preferred talking over texting when Brendon hated talking on the phone. So internet it was.
He quickly turned his laptop on, sitting back down on the bed as it looked for a connection. Eventually it found one and he was automatically signed into MSN. Spencer wasn’t online, which was rare, but Ryan was.
bden writes love on his arms says:
Ryro! I miss u man. it’s boring down here ):
lover not a fighter says:
bren?! omg! wats texas like?
bden writes love on his arms says:
wut do u think? i hate it.
lover not a fighter says:
have u made any friends yet? mayb that’s ur prob. u just need friends!
bden writes love on his arms says:
yeah I guess. dude I gotta go. I still have like 80 million boxes to unpack! ttyl?
lover not a fighter says:
totally man. I’ll b on all nite.
Brendon signed out of MSN and shut his laptop down, leaving it sitting on the bed while he unpacked the rest of his clothes and books. It was two in the morning when he finished and instead of getting back online, he pulled back the sheets to his bed and crawled under them, resting his head on the pillow that smelled like Ryan and quickly falling into a deep sleep.
”Brendon, we have to keep this a secret,” Ryan said. “If my dad ever finds out I’ll be dead. Not even Spencer can know. Promise?”
“I promise,” Brendon replied, pressing his lips quickly to Ryan’s.
It was the summer before junior year and they were sitting in Brendon’s backyard under the tree, hiding from the sun. It was hot, almost 102 degrees, and Brendon decided that wearing a shirt would only make it worse. Pulling it off, Ryan made a face and looked away, a red tint covering his cheeks.
“What?” Brendon asked with a smirk on his lips. “I’m hot.”
“I know,” Ryan says.
What Brendon said could be taken two ways, and Ryan would reply the same way in either situation. Brendon smirked and leaned back against the tree and closed his eyes.
“You know,” he said, turning his head towards Ryan, eyes still closed. “I love it in Vegas. It has all my friends and the boy I’m in love with. I don’t know what I would do if I ever had to leave.” He opened his eyes and smiled at Ryan.
“W-Who are you in l-love with?” he stuttered, something that was rare for him.
Brendon, smile still on his face, turned back towards his house and laughed whole-heartedly. “It’s simple to figure out, Ross. Must I break everything down for you?”
Ryan punched Brendon’s arm lightly. “I am not stupid,” he said. “Just tell me who it is.”
Brendon smirked and leaned forward, catching Ryan’s lips in a gentle kiss. “You,” he breathed into Ryan’s mouth. He pulled back slightly and searched Ryan’s eyes for something, anything. “I’m in love with you, Ryan Ross.”
Ryan closed his eyes, sighing, he pulled away. “You mean it?” he asked, eyes still closed. “Don’t tell me you love me if you don’t mean it, Brendon.”
“I love you, Ryan, and I mean it. I couldn’t mean it anymore.” Brendon wrapped his arm around Ryan’s shoulders, pulling his close and pressing a kiss into his curly hair. “I’ll never leave you, I promise.”
When Brendon woke up, the sun was shining brightly on his face. Groaning, he pulled the covers over his face as there was a knock on his door.
“Brendon! Get up! Now!” his sister shouted.
“Go away, Kelsey!” he shouted. “I’m sleeping!”
“Get up now!” She shouted again.
“Fine, fine! I’m up!” he said as he got out of bed and opened the door. “Happy?” he asked.
Smirking she walked away, throwing her dyed-blonde hair over her shoulder. Brendon shook his head and grabbed a change of clothes, heading for the bathroom while it was open. He shut and locked the door, starting the water on the shower and looking into the mirror. He looked like shit and missed Ryan, badly. He broke his promise about never leaving him, but he didn’t exactly have a choice. After his shower, he decided, he would go outside and sit on the porch with his laptop so he could talk to his lover, his best friend.
Shedding his clothes he jumped into the shower, washing the most important parts before jumping back out again. He grabbed a towel from the closet, drying himself off with it before wrapping it around his head. He pulled his boxers on, pulling on a pair of loose basketball shorts afterwards. He grabbed his plain white shirt and pulled it on over his head as he made his way into his bedroom. He grabbed his laptop and bounded down the stairs, stopping in the kitchen to get a glass of water.
It was hot outside, just like in Vegas, but this was much, much worse. He wanted to shed every bit of clothing he had on, but decided it would be inappropriate.
He turned his laptop on and it found an internet connection almost instantly as he signed into MSN.
i miss you says:
r u ever comin back?
bden writes love on his arms says:
of course, ry. ur there and i promised u i wouldn’t leave u didn’t i?
i miss you says:
i kno, i kno, but i just keep thinking ur gona find some1 else and leave me.
bden writes love on his arms says:
i’m just gone 4 1 yr, k? after this yr i’ll b back n vegas w/ u k? i love u ry n pls don’t 4get that
i miss you says:
ok. well i g2g. sister wants on. ttyl?
bden writes love on his arms say:
yeah ily.
i miss you says:
ily2.
Brendon sighed and shut his computer, setting it down on the porch beside him. He looked out into his neighborhood as more kids rode by on their bikes. The boy that had the guitar yesterday looked at Brendon, stopping and shouting at the other boys. He got off his bike and walked over to Brendon. Brendon didn’t know whether to run or stay still.
“Are you new?” he was asked. Brendon looked up at the boy, shaking his head yes. “Cool. I’m Mason,” the boy said, extending his hand.
“B-Brendon.”
Brendon looked over Mason. His light brown hair was long- it was straightened and fell just a little past his chin. He had a red headband over his hair which caused the ends to flip out slightly. He was wearing jeans, Brendon didn’t know how, and a blue shirt.
He’s kinda hot.
“Mason! Come on!” yells a kid from the street, sitting on his bike and waving his arm in the air.
“Sorry. I have to go. That’s my brother, by the way. Maybe I’ll see you tomorrow?”
“M-Maybe,” Brendon says.
What the fuck? Since when do I stutter?
Mason laughed a little. “Bye Brendon.”
Brendon watched him walk with his bicycle down the drive, meeting his brother on the street before hopping on and riding away. He sighed as the sat there, laptop by his side and looked at the sky. “I hate my life,” he whispered to himself.
“Hey Brenny,” his sister said, walking out of the house. “Who was your friend? He was quite the looker.”
“His name is Mason.”
“Is he single? Gay? What? You have to tell me these things.”
“I don’t know. He just told me his name and then he had to go. Leave me alone,” he said, pushing himself off the concrete of the porch and grabbing his laptop before walking inside, slamming the storm door behind him.
He ran up the stairs, taking two steps at a time, and slammed his bedroom door once inside. His laptop thankfully landed on the bed as he threw himself onto the bare floor, rolling onto his back so he could stare at his ceiling. He started to wonder why he was here in Texas, unhappy, when he could be there in Vegas with the love of his life.
“This sucks,” he muttered, rolling onto his side and curling into a ball.
He fell into a light sleep, only to be woken up ten minutes later by his cell phone. Groaning he answered it, not looking at the caller ID beforehand.
“Hello?” he said sleepily into the cellular device.
“Hey B. It’s Ry.”
“Ryan? How are you? I miss you.” Suddenly he was fully awake.
Ryan only called if something bad happened.
If he needed Brendon to come over, right then.
Only Brendon couldn’t come this time; he was in Texas.
“I-I’m okay,” he stuttered, taking a shaky breath. “I miss you too. So much.”
“Is everything okay? I mean, are you okay? Did anything happen?”
“It’s uh. It’s my dad, Bren.”
“Fuck. What happened, Ryan? Did he hit you again? If he did I fucking sw-”
“N-no. He-He didn’t hit me. He’s uh. Brendon he’s in the hospital. He got alcohol poisoning. They don’t know if he’ll make it or not.”
Suddenly Brendon couldn’t breathe. He didn’t feel bad for the man lying in the hospital bed. No, of course he didn’t. He felt bad for Ryan. Ryan put up with that man’s shit every goddamn day and now he’s lying in the hospital bed, fully prepared to leave his son at a very young age. How shitty is that?
“God, Ryan, I am so sorry. I would come if I could but you know I can’t.”
“I know,” Ryan cries, “but I don’t know what the fuck to do, Bren. I really fucking don’t. I just. I can’t be alone right now or I’ll break my promise and there’s nowhere I can go, B, nowhere.”
“What about Spencer’s? Can’t you go there?”
“They’re out of town. I already tried.”
“Fuck. Uh, what about that one girl from school? What was her name… Hayley? What about her?”
“I don’t talk to her anymore, B.”
“Shit. Hold on for two seconds, and please, Ry, don’t do anything.”
“Okay,” he choked out.
Brendon, phone still in hand, ran down the stairs in search of his mother and siblings. No one was in the kitchen, or the living room, so he rushed to his backyard and still found no one. “Fuck,” he muttered as he ran back through the house and to the front. Again, no one. “Fuck!” he cried even louder, dropping onto the concrete. He noticed that all of the cars were gone, meaning he was home alone. There was no one to help him. Like usual.
“Ry? Ryan are you there?” he questions.
“Y-Yeah, I’m here, B.”
“Fuck, Ry, I don’t know what to do. I’m not in any position to get to you. Everyone left; I’m alone.”
This made Ryan cry harder. “B-Bren?”
“Yeah Ry?”
“I love you,” he breathed.
“I love you, too, Ryan. What are you doing? Talk to me.”
“I-I can’t do this anymore,” he said. In the background there was rattling, something sounding like a bottle popping open.
“Ryan. Ryan fucking stop. Talk to me. You can get through this. Just talk to me, please, baby.”
Brendon looked up from the concrete beneath him to see Mason passing by. Not knowing that anything was wrong, Mason smiled and waved, not bothering to stop. Brendon on the other hand, he jumped off his porch and ran to his new “friend.”
“Mason. Fuck, Mason, I need your help,” he said hurriedly. “Ryan? Ryan are you still there? Fuck, you better not do anything, please.”
“Brendon what’s wrong?” he asked, grabbing Brendon’s shoulders.
“My-my friend back home. He, uh. He’s about to commit and he won’t listen to me and I don’t know what to do. Ryan? Ryan talk to me! Please!”
“I’m sorry, Brendon,” came Ryan’s voice just before the line went dead.
“Fucking hell!” Brendon cried.
“Hey. Brendon. Call the suicide hotline or something. Give them his address and they’ll get someone there.” Mason takes Brendon in his arms and holds him, soothing him as he dials the number.
He gives them Ryan’s address, tells them what’s going on, and he’s assured that help is on the way and that he shouldn’t worry.
“I don’t think you should be alone,” Mason said, sounding concerned. “Would you like to come back to my place? My brothers are out and my parents won’t be back for a little while.”
Brendon doesn’t answer. He lets Mason, a boy he barely knows, drag him to a home where he could be murdered and never found, just so he wouldn’t be alone. It’s a short walk, five minutes at the most, and Mason just walks through the door, pulling Brendon’s hand to follow. He drags him up the stairs to his room, sitting Brendon down on the bed while he sits in the computer chair.
“’M sorry ‘bout your friend,” Mason says, playing with his fingers.
Brendon shakes his head. “Not your fault,” he said. “I should’ve been there. I should’ve fucking been there.”
“Brendon,” Mason says, getting out of the chair and sitting next to him on the bed, “it’s not your fault. There was nothing you could do. He’s… wherever you came from and you’re here. In Texas. There was nothing you could do.”
Brendon’s face softened. “I know,” he said sadly. “I just wish I were still there.”
“I’m sure,” Mason said.
A comfortable silence fell into place. Mason got off the bed by Brendon and walked to his computer, turning it on and waiting for it to load. He signed into his account, letting everything load that needed to before getting onto YouTube to check the latest videos.
“Las Vegas,” Brendon said, ten minutes later.
“What?” Mason asked, turning in his chair to face Brendon, confused look on his face.
“I’m from Las Vegas. I’m going back there after my senior year. I didn’t want to come here in the first place.”
Mason looked a little hurt by Brendon’s honesty, but really couldn’t blame him. If he were forced to move and leave his friends, the ones he loved, he’d down right refuse. He couldn’t be separated from all of this.
“I heard Vegas was nice,” Mason said truthfully. “Never wanted to visit, though. I figured it be a nice place to, you know, drive through without stopping.”
“It’s not so bad,” Brendon admitted with a shrug. “And I wouldn’t have minded moving here had it been a valid reason.”
“Why did you move?”
“Mom met a guy online. Probably where she and the rest of the family is now. I’m not usually allowed to meet her ‘boyfriends’ as she calls them.”
“Well why not?”
“I’m too honest. If I don’t like something about them I’ll tell them right then and there. Usually they’re offended and I can’t blame them, but it causes her to lose something with them, I guess.”
“Ah, I see. You haven’t said you don’t like anything about me,” Mason said with a smirk.
Brendon reddened immediately. “O-Oh, w-well I, uh. I-I don’t. I don’t like, uh. I don’t like your shoelaces?”
Mason laughed, getting up from his seat and sitting on the bed once more.
“I know it might be a little hard, but do you mind telling me who Ryan is?”
“He’s my best friend in Vegas. We’re kind of in love, but we’re not dating because I knew from his admittance that I was moving so there was no point in having a relationship. I’m just not allowing myself to be in a relationship down here, but Ryan does understand that sometimes you just have to, you know?” Mason nodded as a sign of his attention. “So that’s another reason why we’re not dating.”
“I see,” Mason said. He leaned backwards slightly, only to come closer moments later. “So it wouldn’t matter if I did this?” he asked, pressing his thin lips to Brendon’s plump ones moments later.
It took a few minutes for Brendon to begin kissing back. He closed his eyes and applied some pressure onto Mason’s lips, without realizing what exactly it was he was doing. To him, it was like kissing Ryan, just thinner lips and a lot less shy. It was exhilarating; he was glad to have something new once in a while.
But never, never in his life would he leave Ryan Ross.
Suddenly pulling back at the thought of Ryan, he looks at Mason with a horrified expression. “Oh my God,” he says, touching a hand to his lips like they do in the movies. “I just. You just. We just. Holy shit.”
Mason laughs, placing a hand on top of the one Brendon has lying on the bed between them.
“If you don’t want it to, it doesn’t have to mean anything.”
“I just. Did I just cheat on my boyfriend?”
“Technically he’s not your boyfriend,” Mason says, smirk on his lips. “You said you two were officially together because of your move which makes you available.”
“But. But I love Ryan,” Brendon says, still in shock.
“And Ryan is in Vegas. Brendon, you’re in Texas. Have some fun while you’re here, okay? I’m moving to California in a few weeks anyway, so after that it can be like this never happened. Sound good?”
Unable to form words anymore, Brendon just nods because Mason’s right. Ryan’s in Vegas, Brendon isn’t. If Ryan thinks Brendon can last a whole damn school year without that kind of attention, other than his own goddamn hand, then he must out of his mind.
He leans forward and presses his lips against Mason’s-those lips remind him of Ryan, and all of the reasons how this is so, so wrong. He knows this shouldn’t be happening; knows it’s not right. He has a boyfriend, one that he loves, yet he still sits there, kissing Mason like it’s no big deal.
Mason finally pulls away and smiles. “You’re an amazing kisser,” he says.
“Thanks,” Brendon says shyly.
Mason smiled and leaned forward, his lips brushing over Brendon’s ear. “Maybe you can show me how amazing you are at other things.”
Brendon goes white, his breathing stops and suddenly his hands are clammy. He doesn’t know what to do. He knows, for a fact, that he doesn’t want to do anything with Mason, simply because he’s saving himself for Ryan, the boy he loves. He can handle the kissing, the making out and the hand jobs, if there would ever be those, but he couldn’t handle the sex, or the blowjobs. To him, those are too far and next thing you know, he’ll be falling head over heels for this boy who thinks of him as nothing but a piece of ass.
“Um,” Brendon starts, his eyes darting across the room. “You play guitar?” he asks, his voice going up ten notches by the end.
“Yeah, I do,” Mason sighs. “But why are we talking about guitar when-”
“I have to go!” he shouts, jumping to his feet and running down Mason’s stairs. He runs the short distance to his house and slams his front door behind him.
“Is something wrong, honey?” his mother asks.
“Yeah, where the fuck were you earlier? You think you can just take everyone else and just leave? Leave me here without warning, without knowing where in the hell you are just in case of an emergency?”
“I’m sorry, Brendon, it’s just that we were going to the store and I didn’t think-”
“That’s right, mom, you didn’t think,” Brendon spits. “I had no idea where in the hell you were when Ryan called me and tried to commit suicide. You weren’t here. How can I be sure you’ll be here next time? This is all your fault anyway, damn it!”
“First of all, Brendon Boyd Urie, you will not use that tone of voice of me. I refuse to let you say those dirty words to me as an accusation. It’s is not my fault that your boyfriend tried to commit. But I do take the blame for not being here when you needed me, and I’m sorry for that, but don’t you dare accuse me of making your boyfriend commit, Brendon.”
“Then who the hell do I blame? It sure as hell wasn’t MY idea to move my ass all the way to fucking TEXAS. What’s here for you, mom? A job? No. A life? No. A boyfriend? Oh! I believe so! One you just happened to meet online which you, of all people, should know isn’t safe! It’s like your contradicting yourself in every way now!” Brendon screams, tears now falling down his cheeks. “You can say it’s not your fault, but if I were in Vegas right now my boyfriend wouldn’t be in the hospital and I wouldn’t have just made the biggest mistake of my life.”
“Is everything okay down here?” his sister asks from the stairs.
“No, Kelsey, go to your room and entertain your siblings. Brendon and I are talking.”
Kelsey nods and heads back upstairs while Brendon’s mom just stares at him.
“How can you even blame me for all of this?” she asks. “I have done nothing but give you the life I never had. I supported you when you told me you were gay, even though I can’t stand the fact that my son is a homosexual. I accept you because I love you, Brendon, and you’re my son. And if Ryan makes you happy, damn it then I don’t have a problem. But when you stand there and accuse me of putting your boyfriend in the hospital, I will not take that. I have to draw the line somewhere and that’s where it’s drawn.”
“Mom, if you would just sit down and listen for five-”
“No, Brendon, I’m tired of listening. If you want to go back to Vegas so badly, since apparently your little boyfriend is more important than me and your siblings, go buy a damn plane ticket and go live with your damn father because I sure as hell don’t want you here if you don’t respect me. Do I make myself clear?”
“Yes, mom, you do,” Brendon sighs, dropping his head in defeat. “So do you want me to pack now or later?” he asks, somewhat sarcastic.
Her jaw goes slack as she moves forward, anger in her eyes. Suddenly, Brendon is afraid. His mother has never been this angry and she’s raising her hand.
“Brendon!” someone shouts and when he looks to his left, he sees Mason standing at the front door with his eyes wide. “Move, Brendon, move or something before she actually hits you!” he screams.
Brendon looks at his mother once more before dropping to his knees. She swings her hand but hits the air where he once stood. He crawls away quickly, heading straight for Mason-the boy who might’ve saved and ruined his life all in the same night.
“Thanks,” Brendon breathes once the front door has been shut and he’s sitting on the front steps.
“Don’t worry about it. I was coming to apologize anyway. I felt bad,” Mason shrugs.
“Why?” Brendon smiles, except this time, it’s not touching his eyes and he looks like he could cry at any minute.
“I shouldn’t have kissed you,” Mason says. The wind picks up and his blowing his hair into his face. They get off Brendon’s porch, making their way to the only place they can go: Mason’s room. “You have a boyfriend and you love him. I just thought that maybe if I got a boyfriend I wouldn’t have to move to Cali with my parents, but it turns out I’m going no matter what. And I shouldn’t have said what I did.”
Brendon looks at him with a sideways glance and smiles. “Thanks,” he says. “For apologizing, that is. Not for trying to seduce me.” Mason laughs and so does Brendon. “So when are you leaving for Cali?” Brendon asks.
With a sigh Mason says, “Wednesday,” and then he says, “Shit, that’s in two days!”
“Yeah,” Brendon says. “I’m leaving for Vegas. My mom told me I wasn’t welcome to live in her house if Ryan was more important to me than her and my siblings. I mean, what is all that shit about? It’s not that he’s more important, but at this very moment he is. I never should’ve left him,” Brendon says with a shake of his head, “never should’ve left him.”
“Stop,” Mason says. “Stop blaming yourself, okay? It’s not your fault that he did that, and it’s not healthy for you to be blaming yourself and moping about it, alright? There’s no point.”
“I know,” Brendon sighs, “but I can’t help it. I just feel. Horrible. Terrible. Fuck, I feel like this never would’ve happened had I not of come to Texas.”
“I understand,” Mason says. “Are you staying the night? Of course you are,” he answers once they’re on his front porch. “D’you wanna sleep in my room or the guest? Won’t matter to me.”
“Your room’ll be fine. Promise you won’t rape me?”
Mason smiles. “Promise.”
They make their way up the stairs to Mason’s room. Mason strips to his boxers instantly and crawls under the covers, leaving enough room for Brendon to sleep comfortably as well. “Turn the lights off when you’re done,” he mumbles into the pillow under his head.
Brendon laughs and flicks off the lights, taking off his pants and slipping under the covers as well. “Mason?” he asks, sounding incredibly small.
“Yeah, Bren?” Mason asks, his voice already laced with sleep.
“Can you like. Can you hold me?”
Mason smiles-Brendon doesn’t see-as he rolls over and wraps his arms around the smaller boy’s waist. “Sure thing, babe,” he whispers, kissing the top of Brendon’s head. “Now go to sleep.”
And Brendon does, even though he know he shouldn’t, he sleeps better than night than he has in a long time.
When Brendon wakes the next morning, he’s confused and is wondering why he’s in the bed with Mason. He’s still sleeping soundly when Brendon slips out of the bed, pulling his jeans on and slipping out of the door. He walks down the stairs and out of the front door, heading for his ‘home’ since he knows no one is there.
Maybe he can re-pack his stuff. Maybe he can get a plane ticket. Maybe he can call his dad. Maybe he can call Ryan.
He gets to his house and just like he figured, there are no cars in his driveway. Satisfied, he walked in through the front door and bounded up the stairs to his bedroom. He found a suitcase in his mom’s closet somewhere, one in his sister’s, and another in his older brother’s. He shoved everything he could fit into those three suitcases and a duffel bag. He put his guitar in a case and set it by his other things. He grabbed his laptop and got online to find a plane ticket. Luckily his credit card was still valid and he bought one for later that day.
He shut his laptop and put it in its case as he grabbed the rest of his stuff and bounded down the stairs. He walked down the street back to Mason’s and rang the doorbell.
“Coming!” he heard Mason shout and just to mess with, Brendon pressed the doorbell multiple times. “WHAT THE FUCK MAN? I SAID I WAS-oh! Hey Bren! What up with the stuff?”
“Drive me to the airport, yeah?” Brendon asked.
With a smile Mason says, “Yeah, okay. Just let me get my shoes,” and he’s running up the stairs to his room while Brendon makes his way to Mason’s beat up Honda. It’s an old car, but at least it runs-it’s more than what Brendon has, too.
I cannot wait to see Ryan! I hope he’s okay…
“Need help with that?” Mason asks, coming up behind Brendon and grabbing a suitcase.
“Yeah,” Brendon says. “I don’t think it’s gonna fit in the trunk. All of it, that is.”
“Sure it will. Watch.” Mason takes the three suitcases and shoves them in the trunk, throwing the duffel bag on top. Normally, two suitcases would fit into this trunk, but somehow Mason managed three and a duffel bag. “But your guitar in the backseat. It should be safe there.”
“Alright,” Brendon says, setting the guitar gently down on the seat and slamming the door closed. He keeps his laptop with him in the front seat and buckles as Mason pulls out of the driveway. “How far away is the airport?” Brendon asks.
“About an hour. What time’s your plane leave?”
“Six hours,” Brendon sighs. “But it’s good to be early, right? That way there’s no going back?”
“Yeah,” Mason says with a nod. “Exactly.”
“Thanks, y’know,” Brendon says, “for doing this. I appreciate it. Maybe I’ll come visit you in Cali?”
Mason smiles. “Maybe I’ll come visit you and Ryan in Vegas with your three kids.”
Brendon just laughs because that’s ridiculous. But still, he’s left with a smile on his face.
The hour doesn’t drag on because it never stays silent between the two. Between the music blasting and Mason making jokes, Brendon doesn’t have time to actually stop and think about anything else. Brendon was actually surprised when he and Mason pulled up to the airport in what seemed like twenty minutes but was really an hour and a half-longer than expected.
“Are you gonna come in?” Brendon asks. “I might need some help with my suitcases. Please? I might wanna kiss you goodbye, too.”
Mason smiles and say, “Yeah, I’ll just park then,” and then he’s paying the fee for the thirty minute parking and pulling into a space. Brendon grabs his laptop bag and his guitar, slinging it onto his back. He grabs two suitcases while Mason grabs one suitcase and the duffel bag. “Fuck, Bren, why so much shit? Do you really need all of this?”
Brendon laughs. “Probably not. But what if I didn’t bring it and then I never see it again? I’d cry!”
“I’m sure you would,” Mason laughs.
The lines aren’t long when they walk up to check in. He hands the woman his four bags and declares his guitar and laptop as carry-ons. Mason walks him to the security check point and Brendon looks up at him.
“Y’know,” he says, “I have only known you for two days. I’ve lived in Texas for two days, my boyfriend tried to commit, and I met the best friend I never knew I could have,” he finishes.
Mason smiles and wraps his arms around Brendon’s waist. “I’ll see you around, okay?”
“I know,” Brendon says, pulling away and pressing his lips against Mason’s. “I understand this is wrong,” he breathes on Mason’s lips, “but this is the last time I’ll see you for a while so I’ll need something to remember you by.”
“Glad you chose this,” Mason says.
The kiss for a while longer until Brendon pulls away, his lips red and puffy. “I’ll see you,” he says, waving his hand at Mason.
“Yeah,” Mason says sadly. “I’ll see you.”
Brendon turns around, slipping his shoes off his feet and pulling his belt from their loops. He takes his jacket off and places his cell phone, his keys, his laptop bag and his guitar on the conveyor belt. He walks through the metal detector with nothing going wrong and grabs his things quickly. He puts his shoes back on, puts the belt back through the loop and slips his arms back through the sleeves of his jacket. He grabs his guitar and his laptop and turns around to see Mason standing behind the glass window, waving a little. Brendon waved back and walked always, going to find his terminal and waiting.
He takes a seat by the window, watching the planes come and go, as well as the people. It reminds him somewhat of his life; the inconsistency. You never know when a plane is going to come, and you never know when it’s going to leave. You get estimations, but you don’t get the exact time. Brendon realizes that the only constant in his life has been music; his guitar has never left his side, his piano has been with him through it all, and honestly, Brendon only really ever feels comfortable around his instruments. They make him feel whole, wanted.
”The flight to Las Vegas, Nevada will land shortly. If you would please have your tickets out and ready so that the process will be more convenient. Thank you and have a nice day.”
He pulls his online-ticket from his pocket and sits patiently. A plane lands and it takes ten minutes before people are finally unloading. The lady calls sections and Brendon is in section C, meaning he boards third. When she calls his section, he’s quick to stand and hand her his ticket. She smiles flirtatiously and scans his ticket. “Have a nice flight,” she says.
Brendon nods, picking his guitar case off the ground and boarding the plane. They take his guitar from him, after assuring him it will be just fine, but Brendon still isn’t sure. He does know, though, that if his guitar is returned to him in a worse condition, someone is getting sued. That guitar is his baby.
He takes a seat in a row, kind of in the back, and it’s a window seat on the right. He hopes no one sits next to him, but then again he does. He doesn’t want this flight to be boring-especially since he left his iPod in Mason’s car. Shit.
Before the flight attendants say ‘no cell phones’, Brendon texts Mason about his iPod and shuts it off. Twenty minutes later, as well as some instructions on what to do in case of emergencies, and the plane is off, on it’s way towards home sweet home. And Ryan.
Brendon ends up sitting next to some kid around his age. She’s pretty; blonde hair that comes down to her chest, black rimmed glasses. If he were straight he’d ask for her number, but he’s not straight and she’s not his type.
She notices him staring and says, “Hi. My name’s Jen.”
Brendon smiles and says, “I’m Brendon.”
“Why’re you going to Vegas?” she questions, turning in her seat a little. Her black and white checkered jeans are hitting the top of her black and white converse and she’s wearing a Fall Out Boy shirt to go with them.
“I’m going home-to see my boyfriend,” he says.
“Sweet!” she says. “I’ve always thought my brother was gay, but I never had any real proof, y’know?”
Brendon laughs and shook his head. “Where are you from?” he asks. “You don’t look like the kind of girl from Texas.”
“Y’know, if I were from Texas, I’d be offended. But no, I’m from Pennsylvania.”
“Really? Why were you in Texas then?”
“My brother was looking at the college, even though he knows he’s not going to college, but still. Now he’s flying home and I’m flying to Vegas, and then after a day or so I’ll fly to Chicago and see my friend and then I’ll fly to Mississippi and see my other friend!”
“That’s exciting,” Brendon says.
“Isn’t it though? This is the best summer of my life, Brendon, you have no idea.”
“Apparently so,” Brendon says with a smile.
“May I offer you a drink?” the flight attendant asks as she walks by.
“I’ll have a Dr. Pepper since it’s likely you don’t have diet,” Jen says.
“Uh, nothing, thanks,” Brendon says. He looks to his right and looks at the land underneath them, thousands and thousands of miles beneath them.
“If you get motion sickness please don’t puke on me,” Jen says. “These are new pants.”
“Right, yeah,” Brendon says.
“So how old are you?” she asks him and not that Brendon’s mean or anything, but he really doesn’t want to talk right now.
“I’m seventeen. How old are you?”
“Fourteen. But I’ll be fifteen on the twenty-second!”
“Awesome,” Brendon sighs. “I’m gonna go to sleep, okay? Wake me when we’re landing.”
“Okay!” she says. She grabs a magazine out of her carry on-it’s a messenger bag with Cobra Starship on it-and begins to read. She laughs at some parts, ‘aw’s’ at others and when she’s finally done with it, she sticks it in the pouch in front of her.
“Brendon,” she wines. “I’m bored!”
“Nrgh,” he says. “Not now.” Sleep is lacing his voice because he’s just that tired.
“Fine,” she huffs. “I’m going to the bathroom.”
She gets up and Brendon sighs.
She seems like a nice girl, but damn. I don’t know how much more of her I can handle! I wonder when we’re landing. Oh I can’t wait to see Ryan! Or Spencer! And didn’t Jon say something about coming from Chicago?!
“I’ve turned the seatbelt sign on because of turbulence. It’s not a problem, ladies and gentleman, it’ll be over with shortly,” the pilot said.
Brendon buckled his seatbelt and Jen came back shortly after, buckling hers as well.
“You don’t think we’re gonna die, do you?” she whispers to him.
He feels bad. Really bad. He wraps an arm around her shoulder and she lays her head on his shoulder. “No, Jen, we won’t die. I promise we won’t die.”
“Okay,” she says, slipping her eyes closed. “If you say so.”
“Just sleep, okay? When you wake up, we’ll be there and everything will be okay.”
“Alright,” she yawned, falling asleep shortly after.
Next time Brendon opens his eyes, people are walking down the aisle past him and Jen to exit the plane. He shakes her awake and she looks around, confused as to where she is. She grabs her messenger bag and exits the plane, Brendon behind her shortly thereafter.
When he gets into the airport, Jen is no where to be found so he walks off, going to the baggage claim. He finds his bags-three suitcases, a guitar, and a duffel bag-all waiting for him on the ground.
Someone must’ve been nice enough to get these for me.
He grabs his things, with difficulty, and walks to the exit so he can hail a cab. Surprisingly, the airport isn’t all that crowded. He gets a cab easily, tells the driver his address, and the driver sets off. When he pulls up at his house, thirteen minutes later, he can see his dad’s old car in the driveway and one he doesn’t recognize. He takes his things out of the trunk of the cab and pays the guy with cash, taking his stuff and going up to the front door. As weird as it is, he feels obligated to knock; like it’s not his home anymore and if he walked on in, he’s trespassing.
“Brendon? Is that you?” his dad asks when he opens the door.
“Yeah, dad, it’s me.”
“What’re you doing here? Why aren’t you in Texas with your mother?”
“Ryan,” is all Brendon says, and there’s no need for him to say more.
“I see,” his father says. “And you expect me to let you live here?”
Brendon cocks his head to the left and says, “Uh, yeah? I am your son, aren’t I?”
“Yes, Brendon, you are my son, but that doesn’t mean you can just live here.”
“Then what the fuck does it mean?” he asks, dropping his duffel bag on the ground. “Ryan is not the only reason I came back, dad. Maybe I wanted to spend some time with but no, never mind. I’m leaving my shit here and I’ll be back for it later.”
Brendon drops everything-but he sets his laptop down gently-except his guitar as he starts walking towards Ryan’s house. It’s only a few blocks away; maybe he’ll stop by Spencer’s, too, just for good measure.
When he passes Spencer’s house, which is the half-way mark, there are no cars in the driveway. Brendon shrugs because that’s normal in the Smith family; they’re always gone somewhere doing something. He keeps on walking-it’s about another mile and a half until Ryan’s house, and Brendon walks that mile and a half with his head held high. He’s so excited to finally be able to see Ryan because he’s missed the boy, even if it’s been what? Three days now?
Ryan’s house comes into view and Brendon smiles-the smile that touches his eyes. He has an urge to sprint the rest of the way, but Ryan wouldn’t like a sweaty Brendon on his doorstep.
He knocks on the door four times, harder than he means too. He hears shuffling going on inside, some glass breaking and few curses. “Hello?” comes the gruff man inside, who is Ryan’s dad. “Who are you? What are you doing here?” he asks and Brendon can smell the alcohol on his breath and he’s atleast three feet away.
“I uh, I’m Brendon, sir. Is Ryan around?”
He laughs and says, “Yeah, he’s here. Whadda ya wanna see him for? He ain’t nothing special. Just an emo fag.”
Brendon resists the urge to punch the man and defend his boyfriend, simply because Ryan’s dad doesn’t know. Instead, Brendon pushes past the bigger man and makes his way down the hall to Ryan’s room. He doesn’t even knock; just smiles as he places his hand on the doorknob and quickly pushes the door open.
Ryan looks up from his book and his eyes go wide. “Brendon!?” he squeals. He throws his book in one direction and runs in the other. He jumps into Brendon’s arms and Brendon spins him around. “Oh my God I’ve missed you so much, baby!” Ryan says, pulling back from the hug and then hugging him again.
“I’ve missed you too, Ry. A lot. Wanna go to the park or something?”
“Yeah! Just let me grab my shoes.”
Ryan dashes quickly around his room, pulling on his converse and grabbing Brendon’s hand, pulling him down the stairs and out of the front door before his father can say anything. Once they’re outside, and far away from Ryan’s house, Brendon stops and pulls Ryan close and kisses him deeper than he ever has before.
“I’ve missed you so much, sweetie,” Brendon says. “You really scared the hell out of me the other night. You know that, right? I thought I lost you, Ry. I really did.”
“I-I know, B, and I’m sorry. Really sorry. I’ll never do it again.”
Brendon smiles. “I know you won’t, baby, because I’m never leaving you again.”
They sit down on the park bench closet to the pond and Brendon pulls Ryan into his lap.
“I love you, Ry,” he says.
“I love you too, B,” Ryan replies genuinely. He leans down and connects their lips as the wind blows the hot summer air around them.
Right there, in that park, on that bench, Brendon and Ryan made love for the first time. It was the sweetest thing anybody could ever witness and Brendon is positive he’s found the one.
--
there's going to be an alternative ending soon, just because this wasn't really intended to be... fluffy? but jsut for jen, i made it a big ball of fluff-ish.
Rating: NC17
POV: Third, Brendon.
Disclaimer: I own nothing. Jen is santixcore and she owns herself, the facts about her, and her her brother.
Pairing: Brendon/Ryan, Brendon/Mason [I know it's a weird pairing, but please give it a chance]
Summary:
“Then who the hell do I blame? It sure as hell wasn’t MY idea to move my ass all the way to fucking TEXAS. What’s here for you, mom? A job? No. A life? No. A boyfriend? Oh! I believe so! One you just happened to meet online which you, of all people, should know isn’t safe! It’s like your contradicting yourself in every way now!” Brendon screams, tears now falling down his cheeks. “You can say it’s not your fault, but if I were in Vegas right now my boyfriend wouldn’t be in the hospital and I wouldn’t have just made the biggest mistake of my life.”
A/N: Italics are the thoughts, exception of the flashback. It's over 7,000 words and I've been working on it since March. I'm just really glad it's over! I know the Brendon/Mason is weird, REALLY weird, but I'd really appreciate it if you read it. (:
Dedications: santixcore. makeapanicscene for betaing. and xxwhenitrains just because.
Brendon sat outside of his new house in his new neighborhood, in a new state. He didn’t see the point in moving; he and his mom were perfectly fine in Vegas. His mother, however, disagreed and was absolutely positive that Texas was the perfect place for them for now. Brendon knew it was because of a guy she had met online.
So he and his older siblings packed their things and were soon on their way to Texas which brought us to him now, sitting there, with his iPod in his ears. His mother told him to go and make new friends, but that was impossible. Brendon was socially awkward; he couldn’t hold a conversation for longer than five minutes. Even his older siblings would tease him about it, and that definitely didn’t help at all.
Kids younger and older were riding their bikes down the street in a hurry. One of them had a guitar on his back and he looked like he was late for something. Brendon sighed, getting up off of his front porch and heading for the mailbox.
When he was told they were moving to Texas of all places, Brendon thought of dirt, sand, hot weather and cowboys. He didn’t expect to see people like him, and he definitely didn’t expect to be living in an area with grass.
He looked down the street left and right and saw no one. Sighing once more, he walked back to his new house to sulk inside where it was at least cold.
“Brendon!” his mother exclaimed once he was inside. “Did you make any friends?”
It was a stupid question, really, because he had been outside all of five minutes. It was even more stupid of her to ask him a question when his iPod was in his ears, Blink 182 playing on full blast. Especially when she knew that if he was listening to his music, he should be left alone. Aggravated, he pulled his ear buds out of his ears and glared at her.
“No,” he said shortly, turning on his heels and dashing up the stairs to his new bedroom. He hated the word ‘new’.
In his room was a bed, a dresser, and about six thousand boxes of his stuff, most of which he didn’t even need. He sat down on his bed, staring at all of the unpacked boxes.
Why do I have so much shit?
Eventually-two hours later-he stopped staring at the boxes and began to unpack them. Most of the boxes were clothes, he found out, some of which were his sisters, and the other boxes were either CDs or movies. Oh, and his computer. That was his baby and it was his only way of communicating with his Vegas friends, Ryan and Spencer. Sure, there was his cell phone, but Ryan didn’t have texting and the boy didn’t talk on the phone, and Spencer preferred talking over texting when Brendon hated talking on the phone. So internet it was.
He quickly turned his laptop on, sitting back down on the bed as it looked for a connection. Eventually it found one and he was automatically signed into MSN. Spencer wasn’t online, which was rare, but Ryan was.
bden writes love on his arms says:
Ryro! I miss u man. it’s boring down here ):
lover not a fighter says:
bren?! omg! wats texas like?
bden writes love on his arms says:
wut do u think? i hate it.
lover not a fighter says:
have u made any friends yet? mayb that’s ur prob. u just need friends!
bden writes love on his arms says:
yeah I guess. dude I gotta go. I still have like 80 million boxes to unpack! ttyl?
lover not a fighter says:
totally man. I’ll b on all nite.
Brendon signed out of MSN and shut his laptop down, leaving it sitting on the bed while he unpacked the rest of his clothes and books. It was two in the morning when he finished and instead of getting back online, he pulled back the sheets to his bed and crawled under them, resting his head on the pillow that smelled like Ryan and quickly falling into a deep sleep.
”Brendon, we have to keep this a secret,” Ryan said. “If my dad ever finds out I’ll be dead. Not even Spencer can know. Promise?”
“I promise,” Brendon replied, pressing his lips quickly to Ryan’s.
It was the summer before junior year and they were sitting in Brendon’s backyard under the tree, hiding from the sun. It was hot, almost 102 degrees, and Brendon decided that wearing a shirt would only make it worse. Pulling it off, Ryan made a face and looked away, a red tint covering his cheeks.
“What?” Brendon asked with a smirk on his lips. “I’m hot.”
“I know,” Ryan says.
What Brendon said could be taken two ways, and Ryan would reply the same way in either situation. Brendon smirked and leaned back against the tree and closed his eyes.
“You know,” he said, turning his head towards Ryan, eyes still closed. “I love it in Vegas. It has all my friends and the boy I’m in love with. I don’t know what I would do if I ever had to leave.” He opened his eyes and smiled at Ryan.
“W-Who are you in l-love with?” he stuttered, something that was rare for him.
Brendon, smile still on his face, turned back towards his house and laughed whole-heartedly. “It’s simple to figure out, Ross. Must I break everything down for you?”
Ryan punched Brendon’s arm lightly. “I am not stupid,” he said. “Just tell me who it is.”
Brendon smirked and leaned forward, catching Ryan’s lips in a gentle kiss. “You,” he breathed into Ryan’s mouth. He pulled back slightly and searched Ryan’s eyes for something, anything. “I’m in love with you, Ryan Ross.”
Ryan closed his eyes, sighing, he pulled away. “You mean it?” he asked, eyes still closed. “Don’t tell me you love me if you don’t mean it, Brendon.”
“I love you, Ryan, and I mean it. I couldn’t mean it anymore.” Brendon wrapped his arm around Ryan’s shoulders, pulling his close and pressing a kiss into his curly hair. “I’ll never leave you, I promise.”
When Brendon woke up, the sun was shining brightly on his face. Groaning, he pulled the covers over his face as there was a knock on his door.
“Brendon! Get up! Now!” his sister shouted.
“Go away, Kelsey!” he shouted. “I’m sleeping!”
“Get up now!” She shouted again.
“Fine, fine! I’m up!” he said as he got out of bed and opened the door. “Happy?” he asked.
Smirking she walked away, throwing her dyed-blonde hair over her shoulder. Brendon shook his head and grabbed a change of clothes, heading for the bathroom while it was open. He shut and locked the door, starting the water on the shower and looking into the mirror. He looked like shit and missed Ryan, badly. He broke his promise about never leaving him, but he didn’t exactly have a choice. After his shower, he decided, he would go outside and sit on the porch with his laptop so he could talk to his lover, his best friend.
Shedding his clothes he jumped into the shower, washing the most important parts before jumping back out again. He grabbed a towel from the closet, drying himself off with it before wrapping it around his head. He pulled his boxers on, pulling on a pair of loose basketball shorts afterwards. He grabbed his plain white shirt and pulled it on over his head as he made his way into his bedroom. He grabbed his laptop and bounded down the stairs, stopping in the kitchen to get a glass of water.
It was hot outside, just like in Vegas, but this was much, much worse. He wanted to shed every bit of clothing he had on, but decided it would be inappropriate.
He turned his laptop on and it found an internet connection almost instantly as he signed into MSN.
i miss you says:
r u ever comin back?
bden writes love on his arms says:
of course, ry. ur there and i promised u i wouldn’t leave u didn’t i?
i miss you says:
i kno, i kno, but i just keep thinking ur gona find some1 else and leave me.
bden writes love on his arms says:
i’m just gone 4 1 yr, k? after this yr i’ll b back n vegas w/ u k? i love u ry n pls don’t 4get that
i miss you says:
ok. well i g2g. sister wants on. ttyl?
bden writes love on his arms say:
yeah ily.
i miss you says:
ily2.
Brendon sighed and shut his computer, setting it down on the porch beside him. He looked out into his neighborhood as more kids rode by on their bikes. The boy that had the guitar yesterday looked at Brendon, stopping and shouting at the other boys. He got off his bike and walked over to Brendon. Brendon didn’t know whether to run or stay still.
“Are you new?” he was asked. Brendon looked up at the boy, shaking his head yes. “Cool. I’m Mason,” the boy said, extending his hand.
“B-Brendon.”
Brendon looked over Mason. His light brown hair was long- it was straightened and fell just a little past his chin. He had a red headband over his hair which caused the ends to flip out slightly. He was wearing jeans, Brendon didn’t know how, and a blue shirt.
He’s kinda hot.
“Mason! Come on!” yells a kid from the street, sitting on his bike and waving his arm in the air.
“Sorry. I have to go. That’s my brother, by the way. Maybe I’ll see you tomorrow?”
“M-Maybe,” Brendon says.
What the fuck? Since when do I stutter?
Mason laughed a little. “Bye Brendon.”
Brendon watched him walk with his bicycle down the drive, meeting his brother on the street before hopping on and riding away. He sighed as the sat there, laptop by his side and looked at the sky. “I hate my life,” he whispered to himself.
“Hey Brenny,” his sister said, walking out of the house. “Who was your friend? He was quite the looker.”
“His name is Mason.”
“Is he single? Gay? What? You have to tell me these things.”
“I don’t know. He just told me his name and then he had to go. Leave me alone,” he said, pushing himself off the concrete of the porch and grabbing his laptop before walking inside, slamming the storm door behind him.
He ran up the stairs, taking two steps at a time, and slammed his bedroom door once inside. His laptop thankfully landed on the bed as he threw himself onto the bare floor, rolling onto his back so he could stare at his ceiling. He started to wonder why he was here in Texas, unhappy, when he could be there in Vegas with the love of his life.
“This sucks,” he muttered, rolling onto his side and curling into a ball.
He fell into a light sleep, only to be woken up ten minutes later by his cell phone. Groaning he answered it, not looking at the caller ID beforehand.
“Hello?” he said sleepily into the cellular device.
“Hey B. It’s Ry.”
“Ryan? How are you? I miss you.” Suddenly he was fully awake.
Ryan only called if something bad happened.
If he needed Brendon to come over, right then.
Only Brendon couldn’t come this time; he was in Texas.
“I-I’m okay,” he stuttered, taking a shaky breath. “I miss you too. So much.”
“Is everything okay? I mean, are you okay? Did anything happen?”
“It’s uh. It’s my dad, Bren.”
“Fuck. What happened, Ryan? Did he hit you again? If he did I fucking sw-”
“N-no. He-He didn’t hit me. He’s uh. Brendon he’s in the hospital. He got alcohol poisoning. They don’t know if he’ll make it or not.”
Suddenly Brendon couldn’t breathe. He didn’t feel bad for the man lying in the hospital bed. No, of course he didn’t. He felt bad for Ryan. Ryan put up with that man’s shit every goddamn day and now he’s lying in the hospital bed, fully prepared to leave his son at a very young age. How shitty is that?
“God, Ryan, I am so sorry. I would come if I could but you know I can’t.”
“I know,” Ryan cries, “but I don’t know what the fuck to do, Bren. I really fucking don’t. I just. I can’t be alone right now or I’ll break my promise and there’s nowhere I can go, B, nowhere.”
“What about Spencer’s? Can’t you go there?”
“They’re out of town. I already tried.”
“Fuck. Uh, what about that one girl from school? What was her name… Hayley? What about her?”
“I don’t talk to her anymore, B.”
“Shit. Hold on for two seconds, and please, Ry, don’t do anything.”
“Okay,” he choked out.
Brendon, phone still in hand, ran down the stairs in search of his mother and siblings. No one was in the kitchen, or the living room, so he rushed to his backyard and still found no one. “Fuck,” he muttered as he ran back through the house and to the front. Again, no one. “Fuck!” he cried even louder, dropping onto the concrete. He noticed that all of the cars were gone, meaning he was home alone. There was no one to help him. Like usual.
“Ry? Ryan are you there?” he questions.
“Y-Yeah, I’m here, B.”
“Fuck, Ry, I don’t know what to do. I’m not in any position to get to you. Everyone left; I’m alone.”
This made Ryan cry harder. “B-Bren?”
“Yeah Ry?”
“I love you,” he breathed.
“I love you, too, Ryan. What are you doing? Talk to me.”
“I-I can’t do this anymore,” he said. In the background there was rattling, something sounding like a bottle popping open.
“Ryan. Ryan fucking stop. Talk to me. You can get through this. Just talk to me, please, baby.”
Brendon looked up from the concrete beneath him to see Mason passing by. Not knowing that anything was wrong, Mason smiled and waved, not bothering to stop. Brendon on the other hand, he jumped off his porch and ran to his new “friend.”
“Mason. Fuck, Mason, I need your help,” he said hurriedly. “Ryan? Ryan are you still there? Fuck, you better not do anything, please.”
“Brendon what’s wrong?” he asked, grabbing Brendon’s shoulders.
“My-my friend back home. He, uh. He’s about to commit and he won’t listen to me and I don’t know what to do. Ryan? Ryan talk to me! Please!”
“I’m sorry, Brendon,” came Ryan’s voice just before the line went dead.
“Fucking hell!” Brendon cried.
“Hey. Brendon. Call the suicide hotline or something. Give them his address and they’ll get someone there.” Mason takes Brendon in his arms and holds him, soothing him as he dials the number.
He gives them Ryan’s address, tells them what’s going on, and he’s assured that help is on the way and that he shouldn’t worry.
“I don’t think you should be alone,” Mason said, sounding concerned. “Would you like to come back to my place? My brothers are out and my parents won’t be back for a little while.”
Brendon doesn’t answer. He lets Mason, a boy he barely knows, drag him to a home where he could be murdered and never found, just so he wouldn’t be alone. It’s a short walk, five minutes at the most, and Mason just walks through the door, pulling Brendon’s hand to follow. He drags him up the stairs to his room, sitting Brendon down on the bed while he sits in the computer chair.
“’M sorry ‘bout your friend,” Mason says, playing with his fingers.
Brendon shakes his head. “Not your fault,” he said. “I should’ve been there. I should’ve fucking been there.”
“Brendon,” Mason says, getting out of the chair and sitting next to him on the bed, “it’s not your fault. There was nothing you could do. He’s… wherever you came from and you’re here. In Texas. There was nothing you could do.”
Brendon’s face softened. “I know,” he said sadly. “I just wish I were still there.”
“I’m sure,” Mason said.
A comfortable silence fell into place. Mason got off the bed by Brendon and walked to his computer, turning it on and waiting for it to load. He signed into his account, letting everything load that needed to before getting onto YouTube to check the latest videos.
“Las Vegas,” Brendon said, ten minutes later.
“What?” Mason asked, turning in his chair to face Brendon, confused look on his face.
“I’m from Las Vegas. I’m going back there after my senior year. I didn’t want to come here in the first place.”
Mason looked a little hurt by Brendon’s honesty, but really couldn’t blame him. If he were forced to move and leave his friends, the ones he loved, he’d down right refuse. He couldn’t be separated from all of this.
“I heard Vegas was nice,” Mason said truthfully. “Never wanted to visit, though. I figured it be a nice place to, you know, drive through without stopping.”
“It’s not so bad,” Brendon admitted with a shrug. “And I wouldn’t have minded moving here had it been a valid reason.”
“Why did you move?”
“Mom met a guy online. Probably where she and the rest of the family is now. I’m not usually allowed to meet her ‘boyfriends’ as she calls them.”
“Well why not?”
“I’m too honest. If I don’t like something about them I’ll tell them right then and there. Usually they’re offended and I can’t blame them, but it causes her to lose something with them, I guess.”
“Ah, I see. You haven’t said you don’t like anything about me,” Mason said with a smirk.
Brendon reddened immediately. “O-Oh, w-well I, uh. I-I don’t. I don’t like, uh. I don’t like your shoelaces?”
Mason laughed, getting up from his seat and sitting on the bed once more.
“I know it might be a little hard, but do you mind telling me who Ryan is?”
“He’s my best friend in Vegas. We’re kind of in love, but we’re not dating because I knew from his admittance that I was moving so there was no point in having a relationship. I’m just not allowing myself to be in a relationship down here, but Ryan does understand that sometimes you just have to, you know?” Mason nodded as a sign of his attention. “So that’s another reason why we’re not dating.”
“I see,” Mason said. He leaned backwards slightly, only to come closer moments later. “So it wouldn’t matter if I did this?” he asked, pressing his thin lips to Brendon’s plump ones moments later.
It took a few minutes for Brendon to begin kissing back. He closed his eyes and applied some pressure onto Mason’s lips, without realizing what exactly it was he was doing. To him, it was like kissing Ryan, just thinner lips and a lot less shy. It was exhilarating; he was glad to have something new once in a while.
But never, never in his life would he leave Ryan Ross.
Suddenly pulling back at the thought of Ryan, he looks at Mason with a horrified expression. “Oh my God,” he says, touching a hand to his lips like they do in the movies. “I just. You just. We just. Holy shit.”
Mason laughs, placing a hand on top of the one Brendon has lying on the bed between them.
“If you don’t want it to, it doesn’t have to mean anything.”
“I just. Did I just cheat on my boyfriend?”
“Technically he’s not your boyfriend,” Mason says, smirk on his lips. “You said you two were officially together because of your move which makes you available.”
“But. But I love Ryan,” Brendon says, still in shock.
“And Ryan is in Vegas. Brendon, you’re in Texas. Have some fun while you’re here, okay? I’m moving to California in a few weeks anyway, so after that it can be like this never happened. Sound good?”
Unable to form words anymore, Brendon just nods because Mason’s right. Ryan’s in Vegas, Brendon isn’t. If Ryan thinks Brendon can last a whole damn school year without that kind of attention, other than his own goddamn hand, then he must out of his mind.
He leans forward and presses his lips against Mason’s-those lips remind him of Ryan, and all of the reasons how this is so, so wrong. He knows this shouldn’t be happening; knows it’s not right. He has a boyfriend, one that he loves, yet he still sits there, kissing Mason like it’s no big deal.
Mason finally pulls away and smiles. “You’re an amazing kisser,” he says.
“Thanks,” Brendon says shyly.
Mason smiled and leaned forward, his lips brushing over Brendon’s ear. “Maybe you can show me how amazing you are at other things.”
Brendon goes white, his breathing stops and suddenly his hands are clammy. He doesn’t know what to do. He knows, for a fact, that he doesn’t want to do anything with Mason, simply because he’s saving himself for Ryan, the boy he loves. He can handle the kissing, the making out and the hand jobs, if there would ever be those, but he couldn’t handle the sex, or the blowjobs. To him, those are too far and next thing you know, he’ll be falling head over heels for this boy who thinks of him as nothing but a piece of ass.
“Um,” Brendon starts, his eyes darting across the room. “You play guitar?” he asks, his voice going up ten notches by the end.
“Yeah, I do,” Mason sighs. “But why are we talking about guitar when-”
“I have to go!” he shouts, jumping to his feet and running down Mason’s stairs. He runs the short distance to his house and slams his front door behind him.
“Is something wrong, honey?” his mother asks.
“Yeah, where the fuck were you earlier? You think you can just take everyone else and just leave? Leave me here without warning, without knowing where in the hell you are just in case of an emergency?”
“I’m sorry, Brendon, it’s just that we were going to the store and I didn’t think-”
“That’s right, mom, you didn’t think,” Brendon spits. “I had no idea where in the hell you were when Ryan called me and tried to commit suicide. You weren’t here. How can I be sure you’ll be here next time? This is all your fault anyway, damn it!”
“First of all, Brendon Boyd Urie, you will not use that tone of voice of me. I refuse to let you say those dirty words to me as an accusation. It’s is not my fault that your boyfriend tried to commit. But I do take the blame for not being here when you needed me, and I’m sorry for that, but don’t you dare accuse me of making your boyfriend commit, Brendon.”
“Then who the hell do I blame? It sure as hell wasn’t MY idea to move my ass all the way to fucking TEXAS. What’s here for you, mom? A job? No. A life? No. A boyfriend? Oh! I believe so! One you just happened to meet online which you, of all people, should know isn’t safe! It’s like your contradicting yourself in every way now!” Brendon screams, tears now falling down his cheeks. “You can say it’s not your fault, but if I were in Vegas right now my boyfriend wouldn’t be in the hospital and I wouldn’t have just made the biggest mistake of my life.”
“Is everything okay down here?” his sister asks from the stairs.
“No, Kelsey, go to your room and entertain your siblings. Brendon and I are talking.”
Kelsey nods and heads back upstairs while Brendon’s mom just stares at him.
“How can you even blame me for all of this?” she asks. “I have done nothing but give you the life I never had. I supported you when you told me you were gay, even though I can’t stand the fact that my son is a homosexual. I accept you because I love you, Brendon, and you’re my son. And if Ryan makes you happy, damn it then I don’t have a problem. But when you stand there and accuse me of putting your boyfriend in the hospital, I will not take that. I have to draw the line somewhere and that’s where it’s drawn.”
“Mom, if you would just sit down and listen for five-”
“No, Brendon, I’m tired of listening. If you want to go back to Vegas so badly, since apparently your little boyfriend is more important than me and your siblings, go buy a damn plane ticket and go live with your damn father because I sure as hell don’t want you here if you don’t respect me. Do I make myself clear?”
“Yes, mom, you do,” Brendon sighs, dropping his head in defeat. “So do you want me to pack now or later?” he asks, somewhat sarcastic.
Her jaw goes slack as she moves forward, anger in her eyes. Suddenly, Brendon is afraid. His mother has never been this angry and she’s raising her hand.
“Brendon!” someone shouts and when he looks to his left, he sees Mason standing at the front door with his eyes wide. “Move, Brendon, move or something before she actually hits you!” he screams.
Brendon looks at his mother once more before dropping to his knees. She swings her hand but hits the air where he once stood. He crawls away quickly, heading straight for Mason-the boy who might’ve saved and ruined his life all in the same night.
“Thanks,” Brendon breathes once the front door has been shut and he’s sitting on the front steps.
“Don’t worry about it. I was coming to apologize anyway. I felt bad,” Mason shrugs.
“Why?” Brendon smiles, except this time, it’s not touching his eyes and he looks like he could cry at any minute.
“I shouldn’t have kissed you,” Mason says. The wind picks up and his blowing his hair into his face. They get off Brendon’s porch, making their way to the only place they can go: Mason’s room. “You have a boyfriend and you love him. I just thought that maybe if I got a boyfriend I wouldn’t have to move to Cali with my parents, but it turns out I’m going no matter what. And I shouldn’t have said what I did.”
Brendon looks at him with a sideways glance and smiles. “Thanks,” he says. “For apologizing, that is. Not for trying to seduce me.” Mason laughs and so does Brendon. “So when are you leaving for Cali?” Brendon asks.
With a sigh Mason says, “Wednesday,” and then he says, “Shit, that’s in two days!”
“Yeah,” Brendon says. “I’m leaving for Vegas. My mom told me I wasn’t welcome to live in her house if Ryan was more important to me than her and my siblings. I mean, what is all that shit about? It’s not that he’s more important, but at this very moment he is. I never should’ve left him,” Brendon says with a shake of his head, “never should’ve left him.”
“Stop,” Mason says. “Stop blaming yourself, okay? It’s not your fault that he did that, and it’s not healthy for you to be blaming yourself and moping about it, alright? There’s no point.”
“I know,” Brendon sighs, “but I can’t help it. I just feel. Horrible. Terrible. Fuck, I feel like this never would’ve happened had I not of come to Texas.”
“I understand,” Mason says. “Are you staying the night? Of course you are,” he answers once they’re on his front porch. “D’you wanna sleep in my room or the guest? Won’t matter to me.”
“Your room’ll be fine. Promise you won’t rape me?”
Mason smiles. “Promise.”
They make their way up the stairs to Mason’s room. Mason strips to his boxers instantly and crawls under the covers, leaving enough room for Brendon to sleep comfortably as well. “Turn the lights off when you’re done,” he mumbles into the pillow under his head.
Brendon laughs and flicks off the lights, taking off his pants and slipping under the covers as well. “Mason?” he asks, sounding incredibly small.
“Yeah, Bren?” Mason asks, his voice already laced with sleep.
“Can you like. Can you hold me?”
Mason smiles-Brendon doesn’t see-as he rolls over and wraps his arms around the smaller boy’s waist. “Sure thing, babe,” he whispers, kissing the top of Brendon’s head. “Now go to sleep.”
And Brendon does, even though he know he shouldn’t, he sleeps better than night than he has in a long time.
When Brendon wakes the next morning, he’s confused and is wondering why he’s in the bed with Mason. He’s still sleeping soundly when Brendon slips out of the bed, pulling his jeans on and slipping out of the door. He walks down the stairs and out of the front door, heading for his ‘home’ since he knows no one is there.
Maybe he can re-pack his stuff. Maybe he can get a plane ticket. Maybe he can call his dad. Maybe he can call Ryan.
He gets to his house and just like he figured, there are no cars in his driveway. Satisfied, he walked in through the front door and bounded up the stairs to his bedroom. He found a suitcase in his mom’s closet somewhere, one in his sister’s, and another in his older brother’s. He shoved everything he could fit into those three suitcases and a duffel bag. He put his guitar in a case and set it by his other things. He grabbed his laptop and got online to find a plane ticket. Luckily his credit card was still valid and he bought one for later that day.
He shut his laptop and put it in its case as he grabbed the rest of his stuff and bounded down the stairs. He walked down the street back to Mason’s and rang the doorbell.
“Coming!” he heard Mason shout and just to mess with, Brendon pressed the doorbell multiple times. “WHAT THE FUCK MAN? I SAID I WAS-oh! Hey Bren! What up with the stuff?”
“Drive me to the airport, yeah?” Brendon asked.
With a smile Mason says, “Yeah, okay. Just let me get my shoes,” and he’s running up the stairs to his room while Brendon makes his way to Mason’s beat up Honda. It’s an old car, but at least it runs-it’s more than what Brendon has, too.
I cannot wait to see Ryan! I hope he’s okay…
“Need help with that?” Mason asks, coming up behind Brendon and grabbing a suitcase.
“Yeah,” Brendon says. “I don’t think it’s gonna fit in the trunk. All of it, that is.”
“Sure it will. Watch.” Mason takes the three suitcases and shoves them in the trunk, throwing the duffel bag on top. Normally, two suitcases would fit into this trunk, but somehow Mason managed three and a duffel bag. “But your guitar in the backseat. It should be safe there.”
“Alright,” Brendon says, setting the guitar gently down on the seat and slamming the door closed. He keeps his laptop with him in the front seat and buckles as Mason pulls out of the driveway. “How far away is the airport?” Brendon asks.
“About an hour. What time’s your plane leave?”
“Six hours,” Brendon sighs. “But it’s good to be early, right? That way there’s no going back?”
“Yeah,” Mason says with a nod. “Exactly.”
“Thanks, y’know,” Brendon says, “for doing this. I appreciate it. Maybe I’ll come visit you in Cali?”
Mason smiles. “Maybe I’ll come visit you and Ryan in Vegas with your three kids.”
Brendon just laughs because that’s ridiculous. But still, he’s left with a smile on his face.
The hour doesn’t drag on because it never stays silent between the two. Between the music blasting and Mason making jokes, Brendon doesn’t have time to actually stop and think about anything else. Brendon was actually surprised when he and Mason pulled up to the airport in what seemed like twenty minutes but was really an hour and a half-longer than expected.
“Are you gonna come in?” Brendon asks. “I might need some help with my suitcases. Please? I might wanna kiss you goodbye, too.”
Mason smiles and say, “Yeah, I’ll just park then,” and then he’s paying the fee for the thirty minute parking and pulling into a space. Brendon grabs his laptop bag and his guitar, slinging it onto his back. He grabs two suitcases while Mason grabs one suitcase and the duffel bag. “Fuck, Bren, why so much shit? Do you really need all of this?”
Brendon laughs. “Probably not. But what if I didn’t bring it and then I never see it again? I’d cry!”
“I’m sure you would,” Mason laughs.
The lines aren’t long when they walk up to check in. He hands the woman his four bags and declares his guitar and laptop as carry-ons. Mason walks him to the security check point and Brendon looks up at him.
“Y’know,” he says, “I have only known you for two days. I’ve lived in Texas for two days, my boyfriend tried to commit, and I met the best friend I never knew I could have,” he finishes.
Mason smiles and wraps his arms around Brendon’s waist. “I’ll see you around, okay?”
“I know,” Brendon says, pulling away and pressing his lips against Mason’s. “I understand this is wrong,” he breathes on Mason’s lips, “but this is the last time I’ll see you for a while so I’ll need something to remember you by.”
“Glad you chose this,” Mason says.
The kiss for a while longer until Brendon pulls away, his lips red and puffy. “I’ll see you,” he says, waving his hand at Mason.
“Yeah,” Mason says sadly. “I’ll see you.”
Brendon turns around, slipping his shoes off his feet and pulling his belt from their loops. He takes his jacket off and places his cell phone, his keys, his laptop bag and his guitar on the conveyor belt. He walks through the metal detector with nothing going wrong and grabs his things quickly. He puts his shoes back on, puts the belt back through the loop and slips his arms back through the sleeves of his jacket. He grabs his guitar and his laptop and turns around to see Mason standing behind the glass window, waving a little. Brendon waved back and walked always, going to find his terminal and waiting.
He takes a seat by the window, watching the planes come and go, as well as the people. It reminds him somewhat of his life; the inconsistency. You never know when a plane is going to come, and you never know when it’s going to leave. You get estimations, but you don’t get the exact time. Brendon realizes that the only constant in his life has been music; his guitar has never left his side, his piano has been with him through it all, and honestly, Brendon only really ever feels comfortable around his instruments. They make him feel whole, wanted.
”The flight to Las Vegas, Nevada will land shortly. If you would please have your tickets out and ready so that the process will be more convenient. Thank you and have a nice day.”
He pulls his online-ticket from his pocket and sits patiently. A plane lands and it takes ten minutes before people are finally unloading. The lady calls sections and Brendon is in section C, meaning he boards third. When she calls his section, he’s quick to stand and hand her his ticket. She smiles flirtatiously and scans his ticket. “Have a nice flight,” she says.
Brendon nods, picking his guitar case off the ground and boarding the plane. They take his guitar from him, after assuring him it will be just fine, but Brendon still isn’t sure. He does know, though, that if his guitar is returned to him in a worse condition, someone is getting sued. That guitar is his baby.
He takes a seat in a row, kind of in the back, and it’s a window seat on the right. He hopes no one sits next to him, but then again he does. He doesn’t want this flight to be boring-especially since he left his iPod in Mason’s car. Shit.
Before the flight attendants say ‘no cell phones’, Brendon texts Mason about his iPod and shuts it off. Twenty minutes later, as well as some instructions on what to do in case of emergencies, and the plane is off, on it’s way towards home sweet home. And Ryan.
Brendon ends up sitting next to some kid around his age. She’s pretty; blonde hair that comes down to her chest, black rimmed glasses. If he were straight he’d ask for her number, but he’s not straight and she’s not his type.
She notices him staring and says, “Hi. My name’s Jen.”
Brendon smiles and says, “I’m Brendon.”
“Why’re you going to Vegas?” she questions, turning in her seat a little. Her black and white checkered jeans are hitting the top of her black and white converse and she’s wearing a Fall Out Boy shirt to go with them.
“I’m going home-to see my boyfriend,” he says.
“Sweet!” she says. “I’ve always thought my brother was gay, but I never had any real proof, y’know?”
Brendon laughs and shook his head. “Where are you from?” he asks. “You don’t look like the kind of girl from Texas.”
“Y’know, if I were from Texas, I’d be offended. But no, I’m from Pennsylvania.”
“Really? Why were you in Texas then?”
“My brother was looking at the college, even though he knows he’s not going to college, but still. Now he’s flying home and I’m flying to Vegas, and then after a day or so I’ll fly to Chicago and see my friend and then I’ll fly to Mississippi and see my other friend!”
“That’s exciting,” Brendon says.
“Isn’t it though? This is the best summer of my life, Brendon, you have no idea.”
“Apparently so,” Brendon says with a smile.
“May I offer you a drink?” the flight attendant asks as she walks by.
“I’ll have a Dr. Pepper since it’s likely you don’t have diet,” Jen says.
“Uh, nothing, thanks,” Brendon says. He looks to his right and looks at the land underneath them, thousands and thousands of miles beneath them.
“If you get motion sickness please don’t puke on me,” Jen says. “These are new pants.”
“Right, yeah,” Brendon says.
“So how old are you?” she asks him and not that Brendon’s mean or anything, but he really doesn’t want to talk right now.
“I’m seventeen. How old are you?”
“Fourteen. But I’ll be fifteen on the twenty-second!”
“Awesome,” Brendon sighs. “I’m gonna go to sleep, okay? Wake me when we’re landing.”
“Okay!” she says. She grabs a magazine out of her carry on-it’s a messenger bag with Cobra Starship on it-and begins to read. She laughs at some parts, ‘aw’s’ at others and when she’s finally done with it, she sticks it in the pouch in front of her.
“Brendon,” she wines. “I’m bored!”
“Nrgh,” he says. “Not now.” Sleep is lacing his voice because he’s just that tired.
“Fine,” she huffs. “I’m going to the bathroom.”
She gets up and Brendon sighs.
She seems like a nice girl, but damn. I don’t know how much more of her I can handle! I wonder when we’re landing. Oh I can’t wait to see Ryan! Or Spencer! And didn’t Jon say something about coming from Chicago?!
“I’ve turned the seatbelt sign on because of turbulence. It’s not a problem, ladies and gentleman, it’ll be over with shortly,” the pilot said.
Brendon buckled his seatbelt and Jen came back shortly after, buckling hers as well.
“You don’t think we’re gonna die, do you?” she whispers to him.
He feels bad. Really bad. He wraps an arm around her shoulder and she lays her head on his shoulder. “No, Jen, we won’t die. I promise we won’t die.”
“Okay,” she says, slipping her eyes closed. “If you say so.”
“Just sleep, okay? When you wake up, we’ll be there and everything will be okay.”
“Alright,” she yawned, falling asleep shortly after.
Next time Brendon opens his eyes, people are walking down the aisle past him and Jen to exit the plane. He shakes her awake and she looks around, confused as to where she is. She grabs her messenger bag and exits the plane, Brendon behind her shortly thereafter.
When he gets into the airport, Jen is no where to be found so he walks off, going to the baggage claim. He finds his bags-three suitcases, a guitar, and a duffel bag-all waiting for him on the ground.
Someone must’ve been nice enough to get these for me.
He grabs his things, with difficulty, and walks to the exit so he can hail a cab. Surprisingly, the airport isn’t all that crowded. He gets a cab easily, tells the driver his address, and the driver sets off. When he pulls up at his house, thirteen minutes later, he can see his dad’s old car in the driveway and one he doesn’t recognize. He takes his things out of the trunk of the cab and pays the guy with cash, taking his stuff and going up to the front door. As weird as it is, he feels obligated to knock; like it’s not his home anymore and if he walked on in, he’s trespassing.
“Brendon? Is that you?” his dad asks when he opens the door.
“Yeah, dad, it’s me.”
“What’re you doing here? Why aren’t you in Texas with your mother?”
“Ryan,” is all Brendon says, and there’s no need for him to say more.
“I see,” his father says. “And you expect me to let you live here?”
Brendon cocks his head to the left and says, “Uh, yeah? I am your son, aren’t I?”
“Yes, Brendon, you are my son, but that doesn’t mean you can just live here.”
“Then what the fuck does it mean?” he asks, dropping his duffel bag on the ground. “Ryan is not the only reason I came back, dad. Maybe I wanted to spend some time with but no, never mind. I’m leaving my shit here and I’ll be back for it later.”
Brendon drops everything-but he sets his laptop down gently-except his guitar as he starts walking towards Ryan’s house. It’s only a few blocks away; maybe he’ll stop by Spencer’s, too, just for good measure.
When he passes Spencer’s house, which is the half-way mark, there are no cars in the driveway. Brendon shrugs because that’s normal in the Smith family; they’re always gone somewhere doing something. He keeps on walking-it’s about another mile and a half until Ryan’s house, and Brendon walks that mile and a half with his head held high. He’s so excited to finally be able to see Ryan because he’s missed the boy, even if it’s been what? Three days now?
Ryan’s house comes into view and Brendon smiles-the smile that touches his eyes. He has an urge to sprint the rest of the way, but Ryan wouldn’t like a sweaty Brendon on his doorstep.
He knocks on the door four times, harder than he means too. He hears shuffling going on inside, some glass breaking and few curses. “Hello?” comes the gruff man inside, who is Ryan’s dad. “Who are you? What are you doing here?” he asks and Brendon can smell the alcohol on his breath and he’s atleast three feet away.
“I uh, I’m Brendon, sir. Is Ryan around?”
He laughs and says, “Yeah, he’s here. Whadda ya wanna see him for? He ain’t nothing special. Just an emo fag.”
Brendon resists the urge to punch the man and defend his boyfriend, simply because Ryan’s dad doesn’t know. Instead, Brendon pushes past the bigger man and makes his way down the hall to Ryan’s room. He doesn’t even knock; just smiles as he places his hand on the doorknob and quickly pushes the door open.
Ryan looks up from his book and his eyes go wide. “Brendon!?” he squeals. He throws his book in one direction and runs in the other. He jumps into Brendon’s arms and Brendon spins him around. “Oh my God I’ve missed you so much, baby!” Ryan says, pulling back from the hug and then hugging him again.
“I’ve missed you too, Ry. A lot. Wanna go to the park or something?”
“Yeah! Just let me grab my shoes.”
Ryan dashes quickly around his room, pulling on his converse and grabbing Brendon’s hand, pulling him down the stairs and out of the front door before his father can say anything. Once they’re outside, and far away from Ryan’s house, Brendon stops and pulls Ryan close and kisses him deeper than he ever has before.
“I’ve missed you so much, sweetie,” Brendon says. “You really scared the hell out of me the other night. You know that, right? I thought I lost you, Ry. I really did.”
“I-I know, B, and I’m sorry. Really sorry. I’ll never do it again.”
Brendon smiles. “I know you won’t, baby, because I’m never leaving you again.”
They sit down on the park bench closet to the pond and Brendon pulls Ryan into his lap.
“I love you, Ry,” he says.
“I love you too, B,” Ryan replies genuinely. He leans down and connects their lips as the wind blows the hot summer air around them.
Right there, in that park, on that bench, Brendon and Ryan made love for the first time. It was the sweetest thing anybody could ever witness and Brendon is positive he’s found the one.
--
there's going to be an alternative ending soon, just because this wasn't really intended to be... fluffy? but jsut for jen, i made it a big ball of fluff-ish.