We're All Born With a Year's Worth of Apologies [3/3]
Title: We're All Born With a Year's Worth of Apologies
Author: gothicxpianist
Pairing(s): Brendon/Ryan, Jon/Spencer
Rating: PG-13
Summary: Brendon didn't come back to Vegas to fall in love.
POV: Third Person
Beta: infrontofthesea
Disclaimer: All fake.
A/N: Just a little AU. 9,000+ words. Enjoy!
Part One - Part Two
Brendon wakes up to the feeling of his bed dipping. He blinks open his eyes and sees from the open window that it’s still light out, so he couldn’t have napped for too long. He hadn’t even realized he’d fallen asleep.
He looks to his left and sees Spencer sitting on the bed.
“Nng,” Brendon mumbles, “what time is it?”
Spencer glances at the clock on the nightstand. “About 4:30.”
Brendon nods and sits up. Spencer has this glint in his eye and he keeps smiling at Brendon.
Brendon eyes him skeptically.
“What?” Brendon inquires slowly, raising an eyebrow. Spencer just asks,
“How was your day with Ryan?”
Brendon shrugs and runs a hand through his hair. “It was nice.”
Spencer nods and says, “Yeah, Ryan called me when he got home, said he had a good time.”
And Brendon just sort of goes, “yeah…” because Spencer’s acting weird, like he knows some secret Brendon doesn’t. And he won’t quit smiling.
“How was your day with Jon?” Brendon asks, breaking the silence and, ultimately, the subject of him and Ryan.
“It was good,” Spencer says, flapping his hand. “He took me on a picnic and then we went to a movie.”
Brendon lets Spencer gush about his day, only half listening. Most of his attention is focused on what Spencer said earlier. Spencer said Ryan had called him, and then grinned really wide. Brendon wants to know what Ryan said over the phone.
He’s not sure why he’s so concerned with impressing Ryan. Ryan is his replacement. If anything, Brendon should hate him. But for some reason he can’t bring himself to hate those caramel eyes and that soft smile. If anything, he might actually adore them.
It’s stupid, because Brendon’s known Ryan for barely three days and he already feels his heart jump whenever he hears Ryan’s name. Brendon doesn’t just fall for people. He hardly ever dated at all since he left, and then Ryan just waltzes into his life and makes him feel things he hasn't felt in years.
Brendon didn’t come back to Vegas to fall in love, damn it. And he’ll make sure it stays that way.
--
The next few days go by quickly. Lazy, uneventful, and consumed with lots of movies and junkfood. Ryan came over pretty much everyday, bringing his laptop so he could just work quietly on the couch while Brendon sat next to him, reading a random book he found on the coffee table. Usually, no matter how hard he tried, Brendon would end up pressed against Ryan's side, listening to the click click click of the laptop keys and letting it relax him into a daze. He'd always wake up with Ryan's head resting on top of his, long fingers loosely curled in his tee shirt, laptop about to slide off their laps. Brendon would feel a painful pull in his chest, reminding no, stupid, this is a bad idea, this can't happen, but he can never bring himself to stop.
He's constantly reminded by Shane, though, about the real reason he's here: to confront what he ran away from five and a half years ago.
On Sunday Brendon wakes up and the first thing he thinks is one more week.
He knows he has to do it today. It's now or never.
He never promised himself he'd do this, it was just an idea (Shane's mostly), but he knows that if he doesn't then he'll regret it for the rest of his life.
By the time he's showered and dressed, it's around noon. When he walks out of his room, he sees Ryan on the couch, book in hand. He looks up when Brendon enters and smiles.
"Afternoon, Sleeping Beauty," he says, and Brendon feels himself blush slightly. The nerves in his stomach are overwhelming though, and he can barely bring himself to force a smile back.
Ryan give him a look and dog-ears his book. "Hey, what's up?" he asks, concerned.
Brendon shakes his head, brushing some damp hair out of his eyes. "Nothing. M'fine," he assures quietly.
Ryan looks unconvinced and so Brendon hastily throws out,
"I just have a headache."
Ryan looks sympathetic and nods his head towards the kitchen. "Spence has some Advil in the cabinet about the fridge."
Brendon nods back and goes to take some, because he actually does have a small headache.
The cabinet turns out to be way higher than he thought, and after a few failed attempts to get the bottle of medicine, he slumps back against the counter dejectedly. His headache seems to have gotten bigger, too.
"Ryan," Brendon groans, crossing his arms. The older boy shows up in the kitchen a few seconds later, and when he sees Brendon's sad face and empty hands, he chuckles softly. Brendon huffs.
"Don't laugh at me," he whines, and Ryan just shakes his head fondly and reaches up to grab the pills. His shirt hitches up, revealing a sharp hipbone covered by soft looking, slightly tanned skin. Brendon can feel his mouth go dry, and he clenches the counter behind him tightly.
Ryan opens the pill bottle, pouring out a couple and then he fills a glass with tap water. He hands both things to Brendon, and Brendon takes them shyly.
"I'm not helpless," he mumbles, feeling slightly overwhelmed with Ryan babying him and all.
Ryan just says, "I know," and watches as Brendon swallows both pills down dry, chasing them with the water afterwards.
--
Brendon uses the excuse of going on a walk, and Ryan gives him an unconvinced look. Brendon just smiles weakly and shuts the door quickly behind him, making his way down to the waiting taxi.
The car ride is short, and when they turn onto the familiar street, Brendon holds his breath until they stop. Brendon hands the driver the cash, and doesn't make a move towards the door until the taxi has driven off.
The house looks the same, maybe slightly older and faded, but overall it's the same exact house Brendon remembers. The small, quaint little two story that housed him for 17 years. He wants to stand there forever, just to stall, the fear of going up to the door overwhelming him, but he takes a deep breath and pushes off the ground, making his way to the front door.
He raises his hand, and rings it. Quick. Over and done. He needs to do this.
Brendon was never allowed pets, so the loud barking from inside shocks him slightly, making him jump. Did his parents get a dog after he left? Was an animal his replacement?
He shakes his head, wringing his hands together, and he's considering turning and bolting when the door suddenly opens.
A woman looks at him, fake smile in place, ready to tell whoever it is that no, thanks, we wouldn't like to buy your product, have a nice day, but she freezes when Brendon looks up.
"Hi mom," Brendon whispers, eyes already started to burn. She looks much older. Her skin is more wrinkled, and it's sagging more than it used to. Her face is blank, but Brendon can see her struggling to swallow.
"I..." she starts, confused. "Brendon?"
Brendon nods, and her lips starts quivering, but soon her eyes squint, analyzing.
"Why are you here?" She asks, and when a dog trots up beside her she grabs it's collar so it doesn't wander outside. Brendon ignores her, instead asking,
"Is he yours?"
"She," his mother corrects, sighing as the dog struggles in her grip. It's big, probably a black lab, and Brendon reaches out to scratch it's head. "And no. We're just dog-sitting it for the pastor's daughter while she's away."
Brendon straightens back up, and it's silent for a while. He scratches the back of his neck and says, "So. Um."
"Brendon, you shouldn't be here."
Brendon's throat constricts, and his mother - well, legally. By blood. Brendon's not even sure he knows this woman anymore, and he's not even sure if he should call her his mother.
"I just...." he starts, voice cracking. A loud, deep voice echoes out,
"Grace, who's at the door?"
She turns around and hurries out, "No one dear, just a solicitor."
"Mom...." Brendon chokes out. His insides hurt and his eyes are burning with the effort to keep back the tears. He doesn't..... he doesn't understand.
Grace bites her lip, eyes hard, holding back emotion. "You left us, Brendon," she says, voice trembling. "Your father shut down. We can't.... we can't have you back in our lives. It's too much. You should've known this when you ran. You could've had a great, clean life."
"I do have a great, clean life," Brendon hisses, clenching his fists.
Grace crosses her arms, the black lab trotting back in the house due to lost interest. "Oh? Did you ever make it as one of those silly Broadway singers? Isn't that why you left?"
Brendon grits his teeth, ears turning red, embarrassed. When he fails to reply, Grace scoffs and says,
"That's what I thought. You could've been married to a beautiful woman, living in a nice house with a decent job. It isn't our fault that you thought you could do better."
Brendon realizes everything is exactly the same as it was before. His parents are the same, bitter, controlling people as they were before he left. He guesses he just had to see it to believe it. He was kind of hoping they'd change - he even expected it - but he was wrong.
"I'm happier than I ever would have been if I stayed here," Brendon starts, voice low. "I have a great roommate and a decent sized apartment, and I love my job. I don't care that it doesn't pay millions of dollars. I love it, and that's more than I could say for any job that you and dad ever wanted me to have."
He pauses, breathing heavy, before he spits out, "And I actually have a family who loves me."
With that, he turns and leaves, finally letting the tears fall. He hears the door shut loudly behind him. The sun is beating down on him, and he starts to run.
--
Brendon eventually has to call a taxi because it starts to rain. He huddles in a gas station, wet and cold. He can feel the water drying with his tears.
He climbs in the taxi when he sees it pull up outside, and he mumbles the address half-heartedly.
He didn't know what to expect, but it definitely wasn't that. He was hoping to patch things up, but he realizes that there wasn't anything to patch up. It just... it just was. You can't patch up something that wasn't broken. His relationship with his family wasn't ever broken because it was never whole in the first place.
And even if Brendon wanted to do anything with it, he couldn't because he doesn't even have any of the pieces to work with.
--
Brendon walks into the apartment, shirt stuck to his body from the rain, and heads straight for the kitchen to get more Advil. Ryan opens his mouth to ask how his 'walk' went, but he sees Brendon's pained face as he rushes past and instead gets up to follow him.
When Ryan walks in the kitchen area, Brendon's struggling to reach the pills again. He couldn't reach them last time, and Ryan doesn't say anything about how he won't be able to reach it this time either.
"You went and saw your parents," Ryan blurts out instead, and Brendon freezes for a moment before getting back on his toes, arm straining to reach the bottle. Ryan sighs and walks forward, touching Brendon's hip. The younger boy jumps back, and Ryan reaches up and grabs the pills himself, handing them to Brendon.
Brendon mumbles out a 'thanks' and his hands shake as he downs three pills dry. He sets down the bottle, and runs a hand over his face.
"Brendon..." Ryan starts, reaching out. Brendon quickly backs up until his lower back hits the counter, and Ryan keeps his distance respectfully.
"It's.... it's exactly the same" Brendon whispers, and his shoulders start to shake. "They're the same. I... there's nothing. They feel nothing for me."
Warm, wet tears spill from Brendon's eyes, and finally Ryan moves forward, making soft hushing noises. He grips Brendon's elbow with one hand, and uses the other hand to swipe his thumb under each of Brendon's eyes, catching fresh tears. Brendon stays quiet, letting him.
"You're okay," Ryan says softly when he feels Brendon's frame start to tremble. He brings the younger boy closer, and Brendon fists his hands in Ryan's tee shirt. He presses his wet face in Ryan's neck, breaths coming out in quiet, choked gasps. Ryan just shushes him and holds the other boy close.
They stay like that for a few minutes until Brendon starts to calm down. Ryan doesn't ask any questions, because really, there's nothing to even ask. Once Brendon becomes still and his breathing has returned back to normal, Ryan backs away to grab a glass of water. Brendon wipes his eyes and sniffs, hugging himself. Ryan hands him the glass, and Brendon sips it gratefully, throat sore.
It's quiet for a moment, Brendon leaning back and crossing his arms while Ryan watches him carefully. Brendon opens his mouth to excuse himself, slightly embarrassed by his break down, when suddenly a pair of arms have placed themselves on either side of him, trapping him.
Brendon looks up, surprised, and Ryan moves a bit closer until they're almost touching, but not quite. His hands are on top of Brendon's, on the counter, and they're secure and warm, long fingers encasing his own.
"Ryan, this isn't..." Brendon starts, but Ryan shakes his head, cutting him off.
"I like you," Ryan says suddenly. "I think you're a really, really strong person. And your parents are stupid if they can't see how amazing of a person you are."
Brendon feels his heart jump again, and he knows this is a bad idea, but Ryan's so close and Brendon can feel Ryan's soft breaths on his face and most of Brendon's thoughts have gone and short circuited by now.
Brendon's about to say something, anything, when suddenly Ryan lunges forward. Their lips press together forcefully, and Ryan takes advantage of Brendon's slightly parted lips, slipping his tongue inside. Brendon makes a soft noise and shifts his hands so his fingers are interlocked with Ryan's. His heart feels like it's going to explode from his chest.
Ryan tugs him closer, tasting salt and tears and Brendon, but Brendon uncurls their fingers and gently pushes Ryan away, breaking contact.
"Ryan, we can't," Brendon breathes, voice getting caught in his throat. Ryan reaches up and grips Brendon's wrists, not letting him be pushed away any further.
"Why not?"
"I'm leaving in a week," Brendon says, quiet, and Ryan just presses his forehead to Brendon's, locking eyes. Brendon's staring, irises wide and open, and Ryan dives right in.
"Please," Ryan whispers, lips ghosting over Brendon's. Brendon hesitates, but he knows he's already fallen too far.
Brendon closes his eyes, leaning close and mumbling, "okay, okay," against Ryan's lips.
--
"Brendon," Ryan whispers against the back of the younger boy's neck. It's the day before Brendon's scheduled to leave, and Spencer and Jon have gone out to get some groceries for his goodbye dinner. Ryan and Brendon are lying in the guest room bed, naked and spent, sweat beginning to cool between their bodies.
"Mm?" Brendon murmurs quietly, shifting so his back is pressed more against Ryan's chest. They haven't said anything about them really, but Brendon's almost scared to think he might be in love with this boy.
"Brendon," Ryan repeats, and Brendon turns over at Ryan's serious tone, face confused.
"Ryan, what?"
Ryan cups Brendon's jaw, and Brendon turns his head and presses his lips to Ryan's palm. Ryan takes a breath, and then smiles, hopeful.
"Brendon, I want to come with you."
Brendon freezes, eyes locking with Ryan's hopeful ones. Brendon opens his mouth to say something like what about Spencer? Jon? You'd only get to visit them a few times a year, but then he feels Ryan squeeze his hip. Tingles shoot up and down his body, and his heart swells a bit as he stares at the boy in front of him. He... he loves this boy.
Brendon bites his lip, and then moves forward and presses his against Ryan's, sucking the other's bottom lip and then letting it go softly. He's pretty sure he knows what Ryan said to Spencer over the phone, and he's also pretty sure that Spencer wouldn't mind Ryan leaving, as long as he stayed in touch. This time, Brendon would make sure he kept that promise, both of them. Brendon smiles, and feels warm all over when he says,
"Yeah. Yeah, okay."
Brendon didn't come back to Vegas to fall in love, but a certain brunette with the most beautiful caramel eyes decided he wanted to change that.
~fin
Author: gothicxpianist
Pairing(s): Brendon/Ryan, Jon/Spencer
Rating: PG-13
Summary: Brendon didn't come back to Vegas to fall in love.
POV: Third Person
Beta: infrontofthesea
Disclaimer: All fake.
A/N: Just a little AU. 9,000+ words. Enjoy!
Part One - Part Two
Brendon wakes up to the feeling of his bed dipping. He blinks open his eyes and sees from the open window that it’s still light out, so he couldn’t have napped for too long. He hadn’t even realized he’d fallen asleep.
He looks to his left and sees Spencer sitting on the bed.
“Nng,” Brendon mumbles, “what time is it?”
Spencer glances at the clock on the nightstand. “About 4:30.”
Brendon nods and sits up. Spencer has this glint in his eye and he keeps smiling at Brendon.
Brendon eyes him skeptically.
“What?” Brendon inquires slowly, raising an eyebrow. Spencer just asks,
“How was your day with Ryan?”
Brendon shrugs and runs a hand through his hair. “It was nice.”
Spencer nods and says, “Yeah, Ryan called me when he got home, said he had a good time.”
And Brendon just sort of goes, “yeah…” because Spencer’s acting weird, like he knows some secret Brendon doesn’t. And he won’t quit smiling.
“How was your day with Jon?” Brendon asks, breaking the silence and, ultimately, the subject of him and Ryan.
“It was good,” Spencer says, flapping his hand. “He took me on a picnic and then we went to a movie.”
Brendon lets Spencer gush about his day, only half listening. Most of his attention is focused on what Spencer said earlier. Spencer said Ryan had called him, and then grinned really wide. Brendon wants to know what Ryan said over the phone.
He’s not sure why he’s so concerned with impressing Ryan. Ryan is his replacement. If anything, Brendon should hate him. But for some reason he can’t bring himself to hate those caramel eyes and that soft smile. If anything, he might actually adore them.
It’s stupid, because Brendon’s known Ryan for barely three days and he already feels his heart jump whenever he hears Ryan’s name. Brendon doesn’t just fall for people. He hardly ever dated at all since he left, and then Ryan just waltzes into his life and makes him feel things he hasn't felt in years.
Brendon didn’t come back to Vegas to fall in love, damn it. And he’ll make sure it stays that way.
--
The next few days go by quickly. Lazy, uneventful, and consumed with lots of movies and junkfood. Ryan came over pretty much everyday, bringing his laptop so he could just work quietly on the couch while Brendon sat next to him, reading a random book he found on the coffee table. Usually, no matter how hard he tried, Brendon would end up pressed against Ryan's side, listening to the click click click of the laptop keys and letting it relax him into a daze. He'd always wake up with Ryan's head resting on top of his, long fingers loosely curled in his tee shirt, laptop about to slide off their laps. Brendon would feel a painful pull in his chest, reminding no, stupid, this is a bad idea, this can't happen, but he can never bring himself to stop.
He's constantly reminded by Shane, though, about the real reason he's here: to confront what he ran away from five and a half years ago.
On Sunday Brendon wakes up and the first thing he thinks is one more week.
He knows he has to do it today. It's now or never.
He never promised himself he'd do this, it was just an idea (Shane's mostly), but he knows that if he doesn't then he'll regret it for the rest of his life.
By the time he's showered and dressed, it's around noon. When he walks out of his room, he sees Ryan on the couch, book in hand. He looks up when Brendon enters and smiles.
"Afternoon, Sleeping Beauty," he says, and Brendon feels himself blush slightly. The nerves in his stomach are overwhelming though, and he can barely bring himself to force a smile back.
Ryan give him a look and dog-ears his book. "Hey, what's up?" he asks, concerned.
Brendon shakes his head, brushing some damp hair out of his eyes. "Nothing. M'fine," he assures quietly.
Ryan looks unconvinced and so Brendon hastily throws out,
"I just have a headache."
Ryan looks sympathetic and nods his head towards the kitchen. "Spence has some Advil in the cabinet about the fridge."
Brendon nods back and goes to take some, because he actually does have a small headache.
The cabinet turns out to be way higher than he thought, and after a few failed attempts to get the bottle of medicine, he slumps back against the counter dejectedly. His headache seems to have gotten bigger, too.
"Ryan," Brendon groans, crossing his arms. The older boy shows up in the kitchen a few seconds later, and when he sees Brendon's sad face and empty hands, he chuckles softly. Brendon huffs.
"Don't laugh at me," he whines, and Ryan just shakes his head fondly and reaches up to grab the pills. His shirt hitches up, revealing a sharp hipbone covered by soft looking, slightly tanned skin. Brendon can feel his mouth go dry, and he clenches the counter behind him tightly.
Ryan opens the pill bottle, pouring out a couple and then he fills a glass with tap water. He hands both things to Brendon, and Brendon takes them shyly.
"I'm not helpless," he mumbles, feeling slightly overwhelmed with Ryan babying him and all.
Ryan just says, "I know," and watches as Brendon swallows both pills down dry, chasing them with the water afterwards.
--
Brendon uses the excuse of going on a walk, and Ryan gives him an unconvinced look. Brendon just smiles weakly and shuts the door quickly behind him, making his way down to the waiting taxi.
The car ride is short, and when they turn onto the familiar street, Brendon holds his breath until they stop. Brendon hands the driver the cash, and doesn't make a move towards the door until the taxi has driven off.
The house looks the same, maybe slightly older and faded, but overall it's the same exact house Brendon remembers. The small, quaint little two story that housed him for 17 years. He wants to stand there forever, just to stall, the fear of going up to the door overwhelming him, but he takes a deep breath and pushes off the ground, making his way to the front door.
He raises his hand, and rings it. Quick. Over and done. He needs to do this.
Brendon was never allowed pets, so the loud barking from inside shocks him slightly, making him jump. Did his parents get a dog after he left? Was an animal his replacement?
He shakes his head, wringing his hands together, and he's considering turning and bolting when the door suddenly opens.
A woman looks at him, fake smile in place, ready to tell whoever it is that no, thanks, we wouldn't like to buy your product, have a nice day, but she freezes when Brendon looks up.
"Hi mom," Brendon whispers, eyes already started to burn. She looks much older. Her skin is more wrinkled, and it's sagging more than it used to. Her face is blank, but Brendon can see her struggling to swallow.
"I..." she starts, confused. "Brendon?"
Brendon nods, and her lips starts quivering, but soon her eyes squint, analyzing.
"Why are you here?" She asks, and when a dog trots up beside her she grabs it's collar so it doesn't wander outside. Brendon ignores her, instead asking,
"Is he yours?"
"She," his mother corrects, sighing as the dog struggles in her grip. It's big, probably a black lab, and Brendon reaches out to scratch it's head. "And no. We're just dog-sitting it for the pastor's daughter while she's away."
Brendon straightens back up, and it's silent for a while. He scratches the back of his neck and says, "So. Um."
"Brendon, you shouldn't be here."
Brendon's throat constricts, and his mother - well, legally. By blood. Brendon's not even sure he knows this woman anymore, and he's not even sure if he should call her his mother.
"I just...." he starts, voice cracking. A loud, deep voice echoes out,
"Grace, who's at the door?"
She turns around and hurries out, "No one dear, just a solicitor."
"Mom...." Brendon chokes out. His insides hurt and his eyes are burning with the effort to keep back the tears. He doesn't..... he doesn't understand.
Grace bites her lip, eyes hard, holding back emotion. "You left us, Brendon," she says, voice trembling. "Your father shut down. We can't.... we can't have you back in our lives. It's too much. You should've known this when you ran. You could've had a great, clean life."
"I do have a great, clean life," Brendon hisses, clenching his fists.
Grace crosses her arms, the black lab trotting back in the house due to lost interest. "Oh? Did you ever make it as one of those silly Broadway singers? Isn't that why you left?"
Brendon grits his teeth, ears turning red, embarrassed. When he fails to reply, Grace scoffs and says,
"That's what I thought. You could've been married to a beautiful woman, living in a nice house with a decent job. It isn't our fault that you thought you could do better."
Brendon realizes everything is exactly the same as it was before. His parents are the same, bitter, controlling people as they were before he left. He guesses he just had to see it to believe it. He was kind of hoping they'd change - he even expected it - but he was wrong.
"I'm happier than I ever would have been if I stayed here," Brendon starts, voice low. "I have a great roommate and a decent sized apartment, and I love my job. I don't care that it doesn't pay millions of dollars. I love it, and that's more than I could say for any job that you and dad ever wanted me to have."
He pauses, breathing heavy, before he spits out, "And I actually have a family who loves me."
With that, he turns and leaves, finally letting the tears fall. He hears the door shut loudly behind him. The sun is beating down on him, and he starts to run.
--
Brendon eventually has to call a taxi because it starts to rain. He huddles in a gas station, wet and cold. He can feel the water drying with his tears.
He climbs in the taxi when he sees it pull up outside, and he mumbles the address half-heartedly.
He didn't know what to expect, but it definitely wasn't that. He was hoping to patch things up, but he realizes that there wasn't anything to patch up. It just... it just was. You can't patch up something that wasn't broken. His relationship with his family wasn't ever broken because it was never whole in the first place.
And even if Brendon wanted to do anything with it, he couldn't because he doesn't even have any of the pieces to work with.
--
Brendon walks into the apartment, shirt stuck to his body from the rain, and heads straight for the kitchen to get more Advil. Ryan opens his mouth to ask how his 'walk' went, but he sees Brendon's pained face as he rushes past and instead gets up to follow him.
When Ryan walks in the kitchen area, Brendon's struggling to reach the pills again. He couldn't reach them last time, and Ryan doesn't say anything about how he won't be able to reach it this time either.
"You went and saw your parents," Ryan blurts out instead, and Brendon freezes for a moment before getting back on his toes, arm straining to reach the bottle. Ryan sighs and walks forward, touching Brendon's hip. The younger boy jumps back, and Ryan reaches up and grabs the pills himself, handing them to Brendon.
Brendon mumbles out a 'thanks' and his hands shake as he downs three pills dry. He sets down the bottle, and runs a hand over his face.
"Brendon..." Ryan starts, reaching out. Brendon quickly backs up until his lower back hits the counter, and Ryan keeps his distance respectfully.
"It's.... it's exactly the same" Brendon whispers, and his shoulders start to shake. "They're the same. I... there's nothing. They feel nothing for me."
Warm, wet tears spill from Brendon's eyes, and finally Ryan moves forward, making soft hushing noises. He grips Brendon's elbow with one hand, and uses the other hand to swipe his thumb under each of Brendon's eyes, catching fresh tears. Brendon stays quiet, letting him.
"You're okay," Ryan says softly when he feels Brendon's frame start to tremble. He brings the younger boy closer, and Brendon fists his hands in Ryan's tee shirt. He presses his wet face in Ryan's neck, breaths coming out in quiet, choked gasps. Ryan just shushes him and holds the other boy close.
They stay like that for a few minutes until Brendon starts to calm down. Ryan doesn't ask any questions, because really, there's nothing to even ask. Once Brendon becomes still and his breathing has returned back to normal, Ryan backs away to grab a glass of water. Brendon wipes his eyes and sniffs, hugging himself. Ryan hands him the glass, and Brendon sips it gratefully, throat sore.
It's quiet for a moment, Brendon leaning back and crossing his arms while Ryan watches him carefully. Brendon opens his mouth to excuse himself, slightly embarrassed by his break down, when suddenly a pair of arms have placed themselves on either side of him, trapping him.
Brendon looks up, surprised, and Ryan moves a bit closer until they're almost touching, but not quite. His hands are on top of Brendon's, on the counter, and they're secure and warm, long fingers encasing his own.
"Ryan, this isn't..." Brendon starts, but Ryan shakes his head, cutting him off.
"I like you," Ryan says suddenly. "I think you're a really, really strong person. And your parents are stupid if they can't see how amazing of a person you are."
Brendon feels his heart jump again, and he knows this is a bad idea, but Ryan's so close and Brendon can feel Ryan's soft breaths on his face and most of Brendon's thoughts have gone and short circuited by now.
Brendon's about to say something, anything, when suddenly Ryan lunges forward. Their lips press together forcefully, and Ryan takes advantage of Brendon's slightly parted lips, slipping his tongue inside. Brendon makes a soft noise and shifts his hands so his fingers are interlocked with Ryan's. His heart feels like it's going to explode from his chest.
Ryan tugs him closer, tasting salt and tears and Brendon, but Brendon uncurls their fingers and gently pushes Ryan away, breaking contact.
"Ryan, we can't," Brendon breathes, voice getting caught in his throat. Ryan reaches up and grips Brendon's wrists, not letting him be pushed away any further.
"Why not?"
"I'm leaving in a week," Brendon says, quiet, and Ryan just presses his forehead to Brendon's, locking eyes. Brendon's staring, irises wide and open, and Ryan dives right in.
"Please," Ryan whispers, lips ghosting over Brendon's. Brendon hesitates, but he knows he's already fallen too far.
Brendon closes his eyes, leaning close and mumbling, "okay, okay," against Ryan's lips.
--
"Brendon," Ryan whispers against the back of the younger boy's neck. It's the day before Brendon's scheduled to leave, and Spencer and Jon have gone out to get some groceries for his goodbye dinner. Ryan and Brendon are lying in the guest room bed, naked and spent, sweat beginning to cool between their bodies.
"Mm?" Brendon murmurs quietly, shifting so his back is pressed more against Ryan's chest. They haven't said anything about them really, but Brendon's almost scared to think he might be in love with this boy.
"Brendon," Ryan repeats, and Brendon turns over at Ryan's serious tone, face confused.
"Ryan, what?"
Ryan cups Brendon's jaw, and Brendon turns his head and presses his lips to Ryan's palm. Ryan takes a breath, and then smiles, hopeful.
"Brendon, I want to come with you."
Brendon freezes, eyes locking with Ryan's hopeful ones. Brendon opens his mouth to say something like what about Spencer? Jon? You'd only get to visit them a few times a year, but then he feels Ryan squeeze his hip. Tingles shoot up and down his body, and his heart swells a bit as he stares at the boy in front of him. He... he loves this boy.
Brendon bites his lip, and then moves forward and presses his against Ryan's, sucking the other's bottom lip and then letting it go softly. He's pretty sure he knows what Ryan said to Spencer over the phone, and he's also pretty sure that Spencer wouldn't mind Ryan leaving, as long as he stayed in touch. This time, Brendon would make sure he kept that promise, both of them. Brendon smiles, and feels warm all over when he says,
"Yeah. Yeah, okay."
Brendon didn't come back to Vegas to fall in love, but a certain brunette with the most beautiful caramel eyes decided he wanted to change that.
~fin