Hallelujah (just off the key of reason) [7]
Title: Hallelujah (just off the key of reason) [7]
Author: minus_four
Rating: PG-13 (language)
Pairing: Ryan/Brendon
POV: 3rd
Summary: Priestfic AU. Brendon's a few years older than Ryan. And it was wrong and stupid and went against everything Ryan had decided a week ago now.
Disclaimer: Not even close to real. I think that's apparent from the subject matter lol
Dedication: noahatthedisco, again, for my lovely banner she made me! ty bb. And lolab because this wasn't up last night like I said it would be, for constant demands of priestsmut, and the most appropriate typo ever ;)
[1] [2] [3] [4] [5] [6]
Brendon was curled up on the side of the sofa closest to his standing lamp in the corner, book resting open on his right thigh as his eyes traced across the lines one after another in a rhythmic a pattern as the sound of the heavy rain outside. That morning there had been a couple of light showers but they were nothing compared to the deluge now pounding his driveway and beating a staccato rhythm on his roof and battered old little car sitting outside.
Pausing to scratch the back of his neck and push his glasses back up the bridge of his nose, Brendon glanced at his piano across the living room and considered getting up and playing for a little while. He wanted to, just like he always wanted to. Music was like his default setting or something.
Brendon would always rather be playing some song he already knew off by heart or figuring out a new melody, maybe even composing though he never wrote lyrics to go with it, but he had promised Father David he’d give him back the book by the following Sunday. It wasn’t as though the older priest (Brendon smiled a little at the thought. He was still getting used to thinking of himself as an actual priest) would mind, but it also wasn’t as though Brendon had had much else to do with his evenings that week.
Although he’d been busier during the days since his ordination, doing funeral visits and home communion and the other things he’d been training for and was getting to put into practice now, Brendon’s evenings had been emptier for one reason which was almost awkwardly clear in his mind when he thought about it. He hadn’t seen Ryan all week, and even though six days was hardly an age it kind of felt like it to Brendon. He hadn’t even had a text message or email from Ryan and despite Brendon telling himself it was stupid to care he couldn’t help it. He knew Ryan had his own life and school and everything but Brendon had gotten used to seeing Ryan pretty often even if the younger male just dropped by on his way home to say hi.
In a way Brendon didn’t even think it was stupid that he... that he missed Ryan, he found himself thinking as he stared at the page in front of him, no longer taking it in. Really, Ryan had become a big part of Brendon’s life ever since he’d showed him around the town that first day they’d met. Although it seemed pretty odd that Brendon had formed such a close relationship with one of his parishioners it really wasn’t any different than how Father David counted many of the men around his age in the congregation to be his friends, just as Ryan was Brendon’s friend.
It kind of felt different, though. Brendon couldn’t exactly pinpoint how or why it felt different, it just did. When he thought about Ryan Brendon always had this happy, warm feeling rise in his chest, but it didn’t really have much substance to it; it wasn’t definite. The lines were blurry. Brendon didn’t really know what that meant though, and he’d never really let himself dwell on it too much either.
Brendon was just trying to focus on the book in his lap again rather than his sudden desire to send Ryan a text message, possibly to enquire as to whether he thought they’d better start building an arc or something if the storm didn’t let up anytime soon, when the knock on his front door brought Brendon out of his thoughts, the priest straight away getting up as he wondered who the hell would actually be out in weather like this.
His unspoken question was answered immediately when Brendon opened his door a crack, right away opening it the whole way when he saw Ryan standing there on his doorstep.
The book slipped out of Brendon’s fingers and hit the floor with a thud only slightly muffled by the carpet as Brendon just stared for a second; shocked. It wasn’t just Ryan turning up pretty late at night, but he’d obviously walked all the way there in the storm; he was completely soaking wet as he stood there, hands in his pockets, shivering more than a little as he met Brendon’s eyes past dripping bangs.
“I’ve never se-seen you wearing glasses, Bren,” Ryan said conversationally as he noticed the difference in Brendon’s usual appearance straight away. “I like ’em.”
“Shit, Ry...” Brendon saw Ryan’s eyebrows lift a little at that. Brendon hardly ever cursed so if he did Ryan knew he’d been caught majorly off guard. “What are you -”
“I’m sorry,” Ryan cut him off, voice quiet, almost embarrassed. “I’m sorry, I know it’s late and stuff but I just... I just needed -” he paused, trying to think of the right way to put it without freaking Brendon out before remembering the word he’d used himself when he’d made this offer to Ryan, “I needed to escape. Just for tonight. I can’t...” Ryan let himself trail off before his voice actually broke as it was threatening to do.
“Come in. Get in here,” Brendon was closing one hand around Ryan’s forearm even as he said the words, pulling the other male into the relative warmth of his house and closing the door behind him. His first instinct was to ask Ryan what had happened, because something must have happened and not knowing what that was had suddenly made Brendon’s chest clench painfully, feeling almost like fear or something like it. Brendon forced himself not to ask that though, not yet, but he couldn’t keep himself from asking something else as his mouth ran on auto pilot. “Are you okay?” he questioned, his eyes searching Ryan’s own, those hazel eyes outlined by dark smudges of the remnants of kohl not quite washed away by the rain. “You’re not okay,” Brendon answered himself before Ryan even opened his mouth. “You’re not. Um,” Brendon ran a hand through his hair as he fought through his shock and worry to think rationally. “Dry clothes,” he said after a couple of seconds. “Towel,” he added as an afterthought. “Come upstairs and we’ll get you sorted out and then...” Brendon didn’t even finish what he might have said (he wasn’t sure what he would have said anyway; wasn’t sure how he was going to handle this, whatever this was). Beckoning with one hand, his right foot resting on the first stair as he looked back at Ryan, Brendon tried not to think about how little Ryan was saying, and how that was just adding to his already pretty large amount of concern for the younger male at this point.
“I’m sorry,” Ryan mumbled, his head bent as he stared down at the floor near his feet. “Sorry, I shouldn’t have even - I mean, I’m just...” he gestured to the carpet around his sneakers which was already pretty wet from the water just dripping off of Ryan’s body and clothing, especially from the bottom of his jeans.
“Don’t worry about it,” Brendon shook his head and smiled a little in a way he hoped would reassure Ryan as he looked up to meet Brendon’s eyes again. “Come on,” he repeated the words more firmly this time, instructing Ryan to follow him rather than simply requesting it.
Usually Ryan would have instantly snapped back with some sarcastic comment or remark about Brendon’s people skills, but there was no such answer this time and Brendon’s concern grew slightly more as they made their way upstairs, Ryan following behind, completely silent except for the tiny squelching noises from Ryan’s sneakers Brendon could just make out in the quiet.
“Uh...” Brendon walked into his bedroom and grabbed a towel from a drawer before pulling some clothes out from a couple of others, handing some sweatpants, then a t shirt and hoodie to Ryan who just dumped them on the bed as he looked around Brendon’s room with interest for a few moments before his expression deadened again and he turned back to Brendon, still not saying anything. “I’ll, uh, just be downstairs, okay?” Brendon told Ryan, getting a nod in return. “So just come down when you’re... when you want,” Brendon finished, pausing for a second in the slightly awkward silence before leaving the room.
Ryan paused himself, too, for a moment before snapping himself out of his thoughts and starting to fumble at the top button of his jeans with his pretty much useless, cold, stiff fingers. After managing to undo them after a few attempts, Ryan noticed absentmindedly the way the heavy, soaking wet denim slid down his thighs to hit the floor and pool around his ankles along with his boxers. His shaking hands then closed around the hem of his shirt and thin sweater, pulling both of them over his head in one go to leave himself naked, damp and shivering but naked, in Brendon’s room. Ryan almost, almost wanted to laugh as he towelled the remaining wet from his skin before putting on the blissfully dry, warm feeling - though Ryan knew it was only the illusion of warmth relative to his skin - clothes Brendon had given him. He’d almost forgotten what it felt like to actually be dry.
When Ryan had left his house well over an hour - or maybe it had even been hours, Ryan hadn’t exactly kept track - ago and walked out into the pelting rain he’d been wet within seconds and drenched a minute later. After that Ryan hadn’t really seen the point in rushing even if he knew where he was going, knew there was only one place he wanted to go at that point; one person he had to see, and he was waiting for Ryan downstairs.
“Hey,” Brendon looked up from where he’d been staring at his hands as he sat almost awkwardly on his own sofa waiting for Ryan to come back downstairs after he saw the other male’s skinny frame enter his peripheral vision in the corner of his eye. “Do you want to -” Brendon stopped mid-question as Ryan just walked over to sit on the other side of the sofa without saying a word, pulling his legs up towards his chest and securing them there by folding his arms over them. “- sit. Yeah, sitting is good,” Brendon rambled a little as his eyes worriedly took in the way Ryan’s eyes were fixed staring straight ahead and how his slender fingers were still shaking a little. Brendon found himself hoping it was just because of the cold but he doubted that was the case no matter how much he wanted it to be. “Here,” Brendon turned in his seat and pulled the fleecy blanket off of the back of the sofa where it was draped over the top and shifted down the couch so he could put it around Ryan’s body, draped over his shoulders instead. “How long were you out there for?” he asked, his gaze on Ryan’s eyes even if the other male’s weren’t meeting his the way he’d like, because it was better than starting with why. Brendon had a feeling they’d have to work their way up to why.
Ryan didn’t say anything, though; wouldn’t even look at Brendon, and it took a lot of the older man’s self control to keep himself calm and not freak out, because he was kind of getting scared now. Just a little, but enough. He’d been to a lot of seminars and stuff about talking to people in difficult situations and handling people when they were emotionally distressed and things like that, but Brendon suddenly had a really hard time remembering everything he was supposed to say, do, not do... and he knew why. It was easy to keep your head when you were talking to a stranger because although Brendon still cared about them and what they were going through, he could cut himself off from it; stay objective. This was different, though, so different because it was Ryan, and fuck - just fuck, why wasn’t he talking? Why wasn’t he being Ryan?
“Ry,” Brendon said quietly, keeping his tone somehow calm when he was really feeling anything but. Knowing Ryan well ought to have made this easier but Brendon was too scared to push the boy even a little just in case he ended up running from him, too. As he tried to find the right words all the wrong ones floated through his consciousness as he quickly pushed them away; baby, sweetheart, Ryro... he’d made Ryan tell him that one after ‘Brenny Bear’ had come out in one of their conversations about nothing in particular. Brendon just wanted to feel close to Ryan at this point, when he’d put up this wall between them; shut Brendon out completely. “Ryan, what -”
“I hate him,” Ryan spoke suddenly, still not looking at Brendon. “I fucking hate him.”
“Ryan,” Brendon sighed. “You don’t -”
“Don’t you fucking tell me what I feel,” Ryan snapped immediately, anger and hurt so evident in his voice now. At least he was showing something, Brendon thought.
“I wasn’t going to,” Brendon said gently. “It’s just... ‘hate’ is such a huge, definite thing, and it says more about you than it does about... your dad,” Brendon finished, not bothering to make the last part a question like he was going to. “I don’t know what’s happened but I do know that it’d kill me to see you consumed by hate, if you let it.”
“You don’t know,” Ryan looked away again, shaking his head slightly as he pulled his knees a little tighter to his chest. “You don’t fucking know, so you don’t get to say shit like that right now.” Ryan knew how he sounded, knew how messed up it was to be taking it out on Brendon when he’d already welcomed him into his home like that, but he couldn’t help it, not with all the anger and hurt he could still feel humming under his skin, keeping his chest tight.
“Tell me, then,” Brendon prompted cautiously, ignoring the way Ryan had lashed out and knowing it wasn’t his fault. “Tell me what happened,” it wasn’t a request this time either, Brendon having realised that Ryan did need to be pushed, though he still had to gauge it carefully.
“Nothing that hasn’t happened before,” Ryan breathed out a humorless laugh, avoiding the question. “Just... a whole lot of yelling. Just - right in my face, aggressive and...” Ryan trailed off. “I felt so trapped, and then he... and then I had to get out of there.”
“Did he -” the thing which scared Brendon most was what Ryan wasn’t saying. “Did he hit you?” Brendon forced himself to say the words and tried to keep his own voice calm still.
“It wasn’t -” Ryan turned to meet Brendon’s eyes and the older man could see the truth in them even as Ryan spoke. “He hardly ever... It’s - It’s alright,” he said, knowing that he was trying to convince himself as much as Brendon. “This was just a bad night. It’s not -”
“If he even once...” Brendon paused, reining his emotions back as they threatened to spill over into his voice. “You need to tell someone.”
“I’m telling you,” came the quiet reply.
“Someone who can do something about it,” Brendon clarified his previous words, tone firm.
“No,” Ryan shook his head.
“Ryan... please,” Brendon knew that he couldn’t do anything about it himself, but Ryan could, and Brendon wasn’t sure he could let him go back to his house now he knew exactly what Ryan’s father was like and how it affected Ryan.
“I don’t think I really hate him,” Ryan laughed, the sound surprising Brendon. “How messed up is that? The things he does, everything he says, how he makes me feel... and I believe it; every word he’s said to me I believe it,” Ryan paused to just look into Brendon’s eyes for a few moments, his patient gaze silently telling Ryan to go on. “I deserve it, you know,” he went on. “I’m just... I’m fucking worthless,” Ryan dropped his eyes to stare at the carpet then, going silent again.
Brendon’s first thought - almost need - was to beg Ryan not to say that, but he could see that the younger male meant his words just then, really believed them. As Brendon took in Ryan’s tinier-than-ever looking body, the blanket still wrapped around his skinny form, it almost hurt physically to know from the tension that was clear in Ryan’s muscles and the expression on his face that Ryan was hurting so much and Brendon wasn’t sure he could do anything to help just then.
“Ry,” Brendon began. “I know it’s hard right now, but think of the people who care about you, who love you. Father David, everyone at church really, Spencer and his family... Me,” Brendon added himself to the list and Ryan looked at him then, something approaching guilt in his eyes.
“I know,” Ryan said, even though his tone contradicted his statement. “I know. Rationally, I know, but sometimes - a lot of the time - I can’t really feel it. It’s like it’s there... but it’s just out of my reach. I can’t quite believe it when everything I’ve learnt growing up tells me otherwise,” Ryan paused before making his confession. “I just... There must be something wrong with me, Bren. I feel like there’s always been something so wrong with me because - because why else would he do it? Why else would he say all those things if he didn’t believe them?” Ryan, as much as he hated it; told himself he wouldn’t, felt tears prick in his eyes as he let himself feel, at last, everything he’d been keeping locked inside that night and for most his life, really. And Ryan hated that he wished so hard, that he had for his whole life, that his dad might just... just care about him. Just a little, or maybe just not make him feel like this. He felt weak for wanting that little piece of normality so damn much, but he couldn’t help it.
“You,” Brendon began, the firmness in his voice making Ryan meet his eyes again. “You, Ryan Ross, are one of the greatest, most amazing people I’ve ever met in my life. Despite everything,” and they both knew what that ‘everything’ referred to, “you’re one of the most selfless people I’ve known; everything you do for other people, and the church - the way you help me,” Brendon gave Ryan a little smile, not expecting it to be returned. “And I’ve met a lot of good people,” he went on, debating with himself whether to say his next thought for a second. “I mean, I did go to priest school and everything, so I know ‘good’,” and there it was, Brendon breathed out a thankful sigh inwardly as the corner of Ryan’s lips twitched upwards, just a little.
“So I’m getting into heaven, then?” Ryan raised an eyebrow; suddenly feeling a lot lighter, somehow, fuck knows how, as Brendon gently brought him out of himself. It wasn’t just Brendon’s words, it was the way he looked at Ryan, the way he let him know he really did care, and just him being there, really. He just made Ryan feel safe, which - on a night like this - was pretty incredible, if he was honest with himself.
“That question’s rhetorical, I assume,” Brendon answered, still being slightly cautious with his words, torn between wanting Ryan to talk more about how he was doing if that was what he wanted, but at the same time anxious to hold onto the obvious improvement in Ryan’s mood, Brendon just relieved to see a smile, however small, on Ryan’s face. He decided to go with the latter, realising that they could talk more in the morning but right now it was probably better if Ryan was able to relax and get some sleep. “If I put in a good word upstairs maybe we could arrange a smiting,” Brendon joked gently, getting an eye roll in response.
“Kicking it Old Testament style,” Ryan replied sarcastically in his long suffering ‘putting up with Brendon again’ voice, but there was a definite edge of amusement in his tone as well.
“You know it,” Brendon smiled a little before his features became more serious again and Ryan realised they weren’t quite done yet. “Look, Ry, your father... I’m not making excuses and I’m not asking you to forgive him, but really - I mean, you know, he deserves your pity more than anything,” Brendon saw the look of disbelief that passed over Ryan’s face before the younger male forced himself to listen to Brendon again. “You’ve got your whole life ahead of you. You can do whatever you want, and you’ve got people who’ll support you every step of the way, and love you no matter what. He doesn’t have any of that. He doesn’t even have you, and that, Ry... That’s something to pity,” Brendon finished, hoping his words made sense to Ryan.
And they did. Ryan could hear in Brendon’s voice that he was worth something, a lot, actually, to the other male and really, if he tried... Ryan was pretty sure he was really feeling it. It felt strange, almost foreign to Ryan, but it was there; this warmth, this sense of being actually cared for and wanted and... safety. That was the word which stood out most in Ryan’s mind. He just felt so safe with Brendon; had done since the minute they’d met, and Ryan didn’t want to let go of that feeling, not tonight.
Shrugging the blanket from his shoulders and noting the questioning look on Brendon’s face as he did so, Ryan unfolded his legs and turned slightly sideways on the sofa so he was facing Brendon more. The whole night had already been so intense and this part was no exception, probably more so if anything because Ryan knew what he wanted to do now; knew what he needed to do. And it was wrong and stupid and went against everything Ryan had decided a week ago now, but none of that mattered to Ryan that night. He just wanted this moment, he couldn’t let go of it, and just then couldn’t even remember why he should.
As Ryan reached up to curl a hand around the back of Brendon’s neck he noted in the back of his mind how warm the older male’s skin felt against his still-cold fingers, but any other thoughts were pushed far away as Ryan pulled Brendon towards him, leaning forward so their lips could meet.
Brendon’s lips felt just as Ryan imagined they might; soft and amazing and so warm as Ryan parted them easily with his tongue, deepening the kiss because if all he actually got was this moment, just this once, Ryan was going to remember it just the way it should be:
Perfect.
***A/N: Um... questions, comments?
Author: minus_four
Rating: PG-13 (language)
Pairing: Ryan/Brendon
POV: 3rd
Summary: Priestfic AU. Brendon's a few years older than Ryan. And it was wrong and stupid and went against everything Ryan had decided a week ago now.
Disclaimer: Not even close to real. I think that's apparent from the subject matter lol
Dedication: noahatthedisco, again, for my lovely banner she made me! ty bb. And lolab because this wasn't up last night like I said it would be, for constant demands of priestsmut, and the most appropriate typo ever ;)
[1] [2] [3] [4] [5] [6]
Brendon was curled up on the side of the sofa closest to his standing lamp in the corner, book resting open on his right thigh as his eyes traced across the lines one after another in a rhythmic a pattern as the sound of the heavy rain outside. That morning there had been a couple of light showers but they were nothing compared to the deluge now pounding his driveway and beating a staccato rhythm on his roof and battered old little car sitting outside.
Pausing to scratch the back of his neck and push his glasses back up the bridge of his nose, Brendon glanced at his piano across the living room and considered getting up and playing for a little while. He wanted to, just like he always wanted to. Music was like his default setting or something.
Brendon would always rather be playing some song he already knew off by heart or figuring out a new melody, maybe even composing though he never wrote lyrics to go with it, but he had promised Father David he’d give him back the book by the following Sunday. It wasn’t as though the older priest (Brendon smiled a little at the thought. He was still getting used to thinking of himself as an actual priest) would mind, but it also wasn’t as though Brendon had had much else to do with his evenings that week.
Although he’d been busier during the days since his ordination, doing funeral visits and home communion and the other things he’d been training for and was getting to put into practice now, Brendon’s evenings had been emptier for one reason which was almost awkwardly clear in his mind when he thought about it. He hadn’t seen Ryan all week, and even though six days was hardly an age it kind of felt like it to Brendon. He hadn’t even had a text message or email from Ryan and despite Brendon telling himself it was stupid to care he couldn’t help it. He knew Ryan had his own life and school and everything but Brendon had gotten used to seeing Ryan pretty often even if the younger male just dropped by on his way home to say hi.
In a way Brendon didn’t even think it was stupid that he... that he missed Ryan, he found himself thinking as he stared at the page in front of him, no longer taking it in. Really, Ryan had become a big part of Brendon’s life ever since he’d showed him around the town that first day they’d met. Although it seemed pretty odd that Brendon had formed such a close relationship with one of his parishioners it really wasn’t any different than how Father David counted many of the men around his age in the congregation to be his friends, just as Ryan was Brendon’s friend.
It kind of felt different, though. Brendon couldn’t exactly pinpoint how or why it felt different, it just did. When he thought about Ryan Brendon always had this happy, warm feeling rise in his chest, but it didn’t really have much substance to it; it wasn’t definite. The lines were blurry. Brendon didn’t really know what that meant though, and he’d never really let himself dwell on it too much either.
Brendon was just trying to focus on the book in his lap again rather than his sudden desire to send Ryan a text message, possibly to enquire as to whether he thought they’d better start building an arc or something if the storm didn’t let up anytime soon, when the knock on his front door brought Brendon out of his thoughts, the priest straight away getting up as he wondered who the hell would actually be out in weather like this.
His unspoken question was answered immediately when Brendon opened his door a crack, right away opening it the whole way when he saw Ryan standing there on his doorstep.
The book slipped out of Brendon’s fingers and hit the floor with a thud only slightly muffled by the carpet as Brendon just stared for a second; shocked. It wasn’t just Ryan turning up pretty late at night, but he’d obviously walked all the way there in the storm; he was completely soaking wet as he stood there, hands in his pockets, shivering more than a little as he met Brendon’s eyes past dripping bangs.
“I’ve never se-seen you wearing glasses, Bren,” Ryan said conversationally as he noticed the difference in Brendon’s usual appearance straight away. “I like ’em.”
“Shit, Ry...” Brendon saw Ryan’s eyebrows lift a little at that. Brendon hardly ever cursed so if he did Ryan knew he’d been caught majorly off guard. “What are you -”
“I’m sorry,” Ryan cut him off, voice quiet, almost embarrassed. “I’m sorry, I know it’s late and stuff but I just... I just needed -” he paused, trying to think of the right way to put it without freaking Brendon out before remembering the word he’d used himself when he’d made this offer to Ryan, “I needed to escape. Just for tonight. I can’t...” Ryan let himself trail off before his voice actually broke as it was threatening to do.
“Come in. Get in here,” Brendon was closing one hand around Ryan’s forearm even as he said the words, pulling the other male into the relative warmth of his house and closing the door behind him. His first instinct was to ask Ryan what had happened, because something must have happened and not knowing what that was had suddenly made Brendon’s chest clench painfully, feeling almost like fear or something like it. Brendon forced himself not to ask that though, not yet, but he couldn’t keep himself from asking something else as his mouth ran on auto pilot. “Are you okay?” he questioned, his eyes searching Ryan’s own, those hazel eyes outlined by dark smudges of the remnants of kohl not quite washed away by the rain. “You’re not okay,” Brendon answered himself before Ryan even opened his mouth. “You’re not. Um,” Brendon ran a hand through his hair as he fought through his shock and worry to think rationally. “Dry clothes,” he said after a couple of seconds. “Towel,” he added as an afterthought. “Come upstairs and we’ll get you sorted out and then...” Brendon didn’t even finish what he might have said (he wasn’t sure what he would have said anyway; wasn’t sure how he was going to handle this, whatever this was). Beckoning with one hand, his right foot resting on the first stair as he looked back at Ryan, Brendon tried not to think about how little Ryan was saying, and how that was just adding to his already pretty large amount of concern for the younger male at this point.
“I’m sorry,” Ryan mumbled, his head bent as he stared down at the floor near his feet. “Sorry, I shouldn’t have even - I mean, I’m just...” he gestured to the carpet around his sneakers which was already pretty wet from the water just dripping off of Ryan’s body and clothing, especially from the bottom of his jeans.
“Don’t worry about it,” Brendon shook his head and smiled a little in a way he hoped would reassure Ryan as he looked up to meet Brendon’s eyes again. “Come on,” he repeated the words more firmly this time, instructing Ryan to follow him rather than simply requesting it.
Usually Ryan would have instantly snapped back with some sarcastic comment or remark about Brendon’s people skills, but there was no such answer this time and Brendon’s concern grew slightly more as they made their way upstairs, Ryan following behind, completely silent except for the tiny squelching noises from Ryan’s sneakers Brendon could just make out in the quiet.
“Uh...” Brendon walked into his bedroom and grabbed a towel from a drawer before pulling some clothes out from a couple of others, handing some sweatpants, then a t shirt and hoodie to Ryan who just dumped them on the bed as he looked around Brendon’s room with interest for a few moments before his expression deadened again and he turned back to Brendon, still not saying anything. “I’ll, uh, just be downstairs, okay?” Brendon told Ryan, getting a nod in return. “So just come down when you’re... when you want,” Brendon finished, pausing for a second in the slightly awkward silence before leaving the room.
Ryan paused himself, too, for a moment before snapping himself out of his thoughts and starting to fumble at the top button of his jeans with his pretty much useless, cold, stiff fingers. After managing to undo them after a few attempts, Ryan noticed absentmindedly the way the heavy, soaking wet denim slid down his thighs to hit the floor and pool around his ankles along with his boxers. His shaking hands then closed around the hem of his shirt and thin sweater, pulling both of them over his head in one go to leave himself naked, damp and shivering but naked, in Brendon’s room. Ryan almost, almost wanted to laugh as he towelled the remaining wet from his skin before putting on the blissfully dry, warm feeling - though Ryan knew it was only the illusion of warmth relative to his skin - clothes Brendon had given him. He’d almost forgotten what it felt like to actually be dry.
When Ryan had left his house well over an hour - or maybe it had even been hours, Ryan hadn’t exactly kept track - ago and walked out into the pelting rain he’d been wet within seconds and drenched a minute later. After that Ryan hadn’t really seen the point in rushing even if he knew where he was going, knew there was only one place he wanted to go at that point; one person he had to see, and he was waiting for Ryan downstairs.
“Hey,” Brendon looked up from where he’d been staring at his hands as he sat almost awkwardly on his own sofa waiting for Ryan to come back downstairs after he saw the other male’s skinny frame enter his peripheral vision in the corner of his eye. “Do you want to -” Brendon stopped mid-question as Ryan just walked over to sit on the other side of the sofa without saying a word, pulling his legs up towards his chest and securing them there by folding his arms over them. “- sit. Yeah, sitting is good,” Brendon rambled a little as his eyes worriedly took in the way Ryan’s eyes were fixed staring straight ahead and how his slender fingers were still shaking a little. Brendon found himself hoping it was just because of the cold but he doubted that was the case no matter how much he wanted it to be. “Here,” Brendon turned in his seat and pulled the fleecy blanket off of the back of the sofa where it was draped over the top and shifted down the couch so he could put it around Ryan’s body, draped over his shoulders instead. “How long were you out there for?” he asked, his gaze on Ryan’s eyes even if the other male’s weren’t meeting his the way he’d like, because it was better than starting with why. Brendon had a feeling they’d have to work their way up to why.
Ryan didn’t say anything, though; wouldn’t even look at Brendon, and it took a lot of the older man’s self control to keep himself calm and not freak out, because he was kind of getting scared now. Just a little, but enough. He’d been to a lot of seminars and stuff about talking to people in difficult situations and handling people when they were emotionally distressed and things like that, but Brendon suddenly had a really hard time remembering everything he was supposed to say, do, not do... and he knew why. It was easy to keep your head when you were talking to a stranger because although Brendon still cared about them and what they were going through, he could cut himself off from it; stay objective. This was different, though, so different because it was Ryan, and fuck - just fuck, why wasn’t he talking? Why wasn’t he being Ryan?
“Ry,” Brendon said quietly, keeping his tone somehow calm when he was really feeling anything but. Knowing Ryan well ought to have made this easier but Brendon was too scared to push the boy even a little just in case he ended up running from him, too. As he tried to find the right words all the wrong ones floated through his consciousness as he quickly pushed them away; baby, sweetheart, Ryro... he’d made Ryan tell him that one after ‘Brenny Bear’ had come out in one of their conversations about nothing in particular. Brendon just wanted to feel close to Ryan at this point, when he’d put up this wall between them; shut Brendon out completely. “Ryan, what -”
“I hate him,” Ryan spoke suddenly, still not looking at Brendon. “I fucking hate him.”
“Ryan,” Brendon sighed. “You don’t -”
“Don’t you fucking tell me what I feel,” Ryan snapped immediately, anger and hurt so evident in his voice now. At least he was showing something, Brendon thought.
“I wasn’t going to,” Brendon said gently. “It’s just... ‘hate’ is such a huge, definite thing, and it says more about you than it does about... your dad,” Brendon finished, not bothering to make the last part a question like he was going to. “I don’t know what’s happened but I do know that it’d kill me to see you consumed by hate, if you let it.”
“You don’t know,” Ryan looked away again, shaking his head slightly as he pulled his knees a little tighter to his chest. “You don’t fucking know, so you don’t get to say shit like that right now.” Ryan knew how he sounded, knew how messed up it was to be taking it out on Brendon when he’d already welcomed him into his home like that, but he couldn’t help it, not with all the anger and hurt he could still feel humming under his skin, keeping his chest tight.
“Tell me, then,” Brendon prompted cautiously, ignoring the way Ryan had lashed out and knowing it wasn’t his fault. “Tell me what happened,” it wasn’t a request this time either, Brendon having realised that Ryan did need to be pushed, though he still had to gauge it carefully.
“Nothing that hasn’t happened before,” Ryan breathed out a humorless laugh, avoiding the question. “Just... a whole lot of yelling. Just - right in my face, aggressive and...” Ryan trailed off. “I felt so trapped, and then he... and then I had to get out of there.”
“Did he -” the thing which scared Brendon most was what Ryan wasn’t saying. “Did he hit you?” Brendon forced himself to say the words and tried to keep his own voice calm still.
“It wasn’t -” Ryan turned to meet Brendon’s eyes and the older man could see the truth in them even as Ryan spoke. “He hardly ever... It’s - It’s alright,” he said, knowing that he was trying to convince himself as much as Brendon. “This was just a bad night. It’s not -”
“If he even once...” Brendon paused, reining his emotions back as they threatened to spill over into his voice. “You need to tell someone.”
“I’m telling you,” came the quiet reply.
“Someone who can do something about it,” Brendon clarified his previous words, tone firm.
“No,” Ryan shook his head.
“Ryan... please,” Brendon knew that he couldn’t do anything about it himself, but Ryan could, and Brendon wasn’t sure he could let him go back to his house now he knew exactly what Ryan’s father was like and how it affected Ryan.
“I don’t think I really hate him,” Ryan laughed, the sound surprising Brendon. “How messed up is that? The things he does, everything he says, how he makes me feel... and I believe it; every word he’s said to me I believe it,” Ryan paused to just look into Brendon’s eyes for a few moments, his patient gaze silently telling Ryan to go on. “I deserve it, you know,” he went on. “I’m just... I’m fucking worthless,” Ryan dropped his eyes to stare at the carpet then, going silent again.
Brendon’s first thought - almost need - was to beg Ryan not to say that, but he could see that the younger male meant his words just then, really believed them. As Brendon took in Ryan’s tinier-than-ever looking body, the blanket still wrapped around his skinny form, it almost hurt physically to know from the tension that was clear in Ryan’s muscles and the expression on his face that Ryan was hurting so much and Brendon wasn’t sure he could do anything to help just then.
“Ry,” Brendon began. “I know it’s hard right now, but think of the people who care about you, who love you. Father David, everyone at church really, Spencer and his family... Me,” Brendon added himself to the list and Ryan looked at him then, something approaching guilt in his eyes.
“I know,” Ryan said, even though his tone contradicted his statement. “I know. Rationally, I know, but sometimes - a lot of the time - I can’t really feel it. It’s like it’s there... but it’s just out of my reach. I can’t quite believe it when everything I’ve learnt growing up tells me otherwise,” Ryan paused before making his confession. “I just... There must be something wrong with me, Bren. I feel like there’s always been something so wrong with me because - because why else would he do it? Why else would he say all those things if he didn’t believe them?” Ryan, as much as he hated it; told himself he wouldn’t, felt tears prick in his eyes as he let himself feel, at last, everything he’d been keeping locked inside that night and for most his life, really. And Ryan hated that he wished so hard, that he had for his whole life, that his dad might just... just care about him. Just a little, or maybe just not make him feel like this. He felt weak for wanting that little piece of normality so damn much, but he couldn’t help it.
“You,” Brendon began, the firmness in his voice making Ryan meet his eyes again. “You, Ryan Ross, are one of the greatest, most amazing people I’ve ever met in my life. Despite everything,” and they both knew what that ‘everything’ referred to, “you’re one of the most selfless people I’ve known; everything you do for other people, and the church - the way you help me,” Brendon gave Ryan a little smile, not expecting it to be returned. “And I’ve met a lot of good people,” he went on, debating with himself whether to say his next thought for a second. “I mean, I did go to priest school and everything, so I know ‘good’,” and there it was, Brendon breathed out a thankful sigh inwardly as the corner of Ryan’s lips twitched upwards, just a little.
“So I’m getting into heaven, then?” Ryan raised an eyebrow; suddenly feeling a lot lighter, somehow, fuck knows how, as Brendon gently brought him out of himself. It wasn’t just Brendon’s words, it was the way he looked at Ryan, the way he let him know he really did care, and just him being there, really. He just made Ryan feel safe, which - on a night like this - was pretty incredible, if he was honest with himself.
“That question’s rhetorical, I assume,” Brendon answered, still being slightly cautious with his words, torn between wanting Ryan to talk more about how he was doing if that was what he wanted, but at the same time anxious to hold onto the obvious improvement in Ryan’s mood, Brendon just relieved to see a smile, however small, on Ryan’s face. He decided to go with the latter, realising that they could talk more in the morning but right now it was probably better if Ryan was able to relax and get some sleep. “If I put in a good word upstairs maybe we could arrange a smiting,” Brendon joked gently, getting an eye roll in response.
“Kicking it Old Testament style,” Ryan replied sarcastically in his long suffering ‘putting up with Brendon again’ voice, but there was a definite edge of amusement in his tone as well.
“You know it,” Brendon smiled a little before his features became more serious again and Ryan realised they weren’t quite done yet. “Look, Ry, your father... I’m not making excuses and I’m not asking you to forgive him, but really - I mean, you know, he deserves your pity more than anything,” Brendon saw the look of disbelief that passed over Ryan’s face before the younger male forced himself to listen to Brendon again. “You’ve got your whole life ahead of you. You can do whatever you want, and you’ve got people who’ll support you every step of the way, and love you no matter what. He doesn’t have any of that. He doesn’t even have you, and that, Ry... That’s something to pity,” Brendon finished, hoping his words made sense to Ryan.
And they did. Ryan could hear in Brendon’s voice that he was worth something, a lot, actually, to the other male and really, if he tried... Ryan was pretty sure he was really feeling it. It felt strange, almost foreign to Ryan, but it was there; this warmth, this sense of being actually cared for and wanted and... safety. That was the word which stood out most in Ryan’s mind. He just felt so safe with Brendon; had done since the minute they’d met, and Ryan didn’t want to let go of that feeling, not tonight.
Shrugging the blanket from his shoulders and noting the questioning look on Brendon’s face as he did so, Ryan unfolded his legs and turned slightly sideways on the sofa so he was facing Brendon more. The whole night had already been so intense and this part was no exception, probably more so if anything because Ryan knew what he wanted to do now; knew what he needed to do. And it was wrong and stupid and went against everything Ryan had decided a week ago now, but none of that mattered to Ryan that night. He just wanted this moment, he couldn’t let go of it, and just then couldn’t even remember why he should.
As Ryan reached up to curl a hand around the back of Brendon’s neck he noted in the back of his mind how warm the older male’s skin felt against his still-cold fingers, but any other thoughts were pushed far away as Ryan pulled Brendon towards him, leaning forward so their lips could meet.
Brendon’s lips felt just as Ryan imagined they might; soft and amazing and so warm as Ryan parted them easily with his tongue, deepening the kiss because if all he actually got was this moment, just this once, Ryan was going to remember it just the way it should be:
Perfect.
***A/N: Um... questions, comments?