she said see you l8er boi
ficbyzee: ......and then my mind tried to construct a scenario where Brendon was a ballerina and Ryan was a b-boy from the inner city and they had star-crossed love, and I had to emergency abort my own brain.
gigantic: hahaha oh MAN. Ryan as an inner city b-boy would be hilarious. hmm. Ryan was a skate punk kid, though, so, uh. maybe as a skater kid with absolutely no dance background at all? and then instead of being a sheltered mormon kid, Brendon's that dude who's studied dance since he was little and is used to kids like Ryan giving him and his friends a hard time. omg, this sounds like some of the most terrible aus out there. i don't care! it brings me wretched joy.
If this was a real story -- if this wasn't just some chatlog badfic, it would probably be called something other than --
Take Center Stage And Step Up to Save The Last Dance (He Was A Sk8er Boi)
by Charli J
Brendon/Ryan. AU. NC-17. They come from two different worlds.
100% untrue work of fiction, no harm intended, etc.
i.
It isn't that Brendon doesn't have time to do the show. It's that he doesn't want to do it. Brendon tries his best to avoid getting roped into the high school's productions because they're full of beginners just trying to get a passing grade and doing recitals because they have to, whether they like it or not. Most of the students in the few dances classes the school offers end up there against their will because the regular PE classes fill up too quickly. It's as if the arts department is where the guidance counselor sends all the academic run off. These losers don't really want to be bothered with performing, and Brendon doesn't want to be bothered with them.
Unfortunately, Brendon is slowly learning that it's almost impossible to say no to Greta Salpeter. She says, "Brendon, come on. I wouldn't ask if I didn't have to, but we're short male dancers, and the director's looking for anyone to help out now."
He grumbles and protests for a few minutes, trying, "I've got classes at the academy after school and weekends."
"Please," Greta says. She doesn't pout, and that makes it worse. He could say no to a pouty whiner.
"But," Brendon says. The thing is that even though he does go to the academy usually, their own production isn't for a month or so. Brendon could cut down his hours spent there to make room for rehearsals here for a while.
He hates this school.
He says, "Alright."
"Alright?"
"I'll do the show," Brendon clarifies and despite Greta's smile, he isn't all that excited.
She squeezes Brendon's arm, touches his elbow and says, "Okay. Thank you, Brendon."
He shrugs and says, "I've got some free time."
"Yeah, yeah. I know you don't want to, but I appreciate it. I really do," she says. "Come talk to the director after school today. Get you started."
"Okay," Brendon says. She turns away smiling, heads in the opposite direction to get to class on time, and that's how Brendon finds himself tied to one of the school shows he tries so hard to avoid.
;;
The rehearsals are about as sloppy as he anticipates. The director has a hard time commanding the attention of the cast. Half the students don't even know how to spot when they warm up with chaine turns across the floor, but Brendon picks up his parts extremely quickly, satisfying the director, and that's all that matters to him, really. Well, that and the fact that he gets partnered with Greta for a modern piece. Greta's worlds better than most of the students here, and Brendon likes her. They've become good friends over the past couple years at the same school, and the only time rehearsal isn't almost entirely a joke is when they get to run through their number.
"They had me dancing with Siska at first," Greta says. "He's a good guy, but I think I'm too much lady for him."
"He's a weakling?" Brendon asks, smirking.
Greta smiles. She says, "But he really tried."
Brendon has no problems dancing with Greta or lifting her when the choreography calls for it. The rehearsals themselves really aren't difficult, although they do become tedious and trying after running through the same five minutes of music for hours at a time, because people won't just cooperate and pick up their cues. It's all mildly annoying by the end of each practice, and then Brendon has to deal with walking through the crowd of skaters that hang around the auditorium steps and benches along the building after school, using the rails and table tops to practice tricks.
It is the 21st century, isn't it? One would think that taking pot shots at a guy's masculinity got old a long time ago, but apparently not. The skaters are never automatically rude or all that bad, but Brendon's dealt with the occasional group of kids, girls and guys, who make sarcastic comments once he starts talking about what he does, how he's been dancing for years, and, yes, that includes ballet. People always think they're funnier than they really are. He doesn't care what anyone there thinks, but it's more that he doesn't feel like having to field the attempts at scathing humor at all.
He walks outside with a few of the other students after rehearsal. One of the skaters hanging around the area asks what they were doing -- in the auditorium, what's going on in there?
"Dance show," one of the girls offers helpfully as they pass. Brendon doesn't know all of their names yet.
Another one of the boys asks if the girls dance around in those shorts they're wearing right now. Brendon rolls his eyes at the same time another guy asks if the boys they're walking with dance around in tiny shorts, too, and the two laugh together.
Brendon's so busy looking back at them that he collides with one of the other skaters, some random skinny kid trying to do an ollie or what-the-hell-ever. The guy grabs Brendon's arms and pops up the front of his board, narrowly escaping an outcome that probably would have involved landing on Brendon's feet. He sort of uses Brendon as an anchor to regain his balance though, and Brendon shrugs him off when the shock of the moment passes, saying, "Dude. Excuse you."
"You ran into me," the guy says, stepping off of his board.
"Whatever," Brendon says, tugging at his left sleeve to straighten out the arm of his track jacket. He steps around the guy, snorting, and then follows Greta out of the gate, heading home.
ii.
Ryan. Ryan can't nail this fucking tail grind to save his life.
He tries all afternoon and falls eight times. After he lands hard on his side and his rotator cuff aches every time he rolls his arm from the shoulder, he stops and decides to take over video camera duty.
Spencer says, "Do you think you need ice? Me and Brent can go to the store down the street or something."
"No, I'm okay," Ryan says. Trevor sets up at the top of the stairs and calls down asking if Ryan's ready to film. Ryan yells, "Yeah, just come on!" and presses record.
They all hang out after school regularly, either here or the park, because it's quicker to get to than the actual skate park and has enough platforms, gates, and railing to make a day out worthwhile. More often than not, campus security doesn't even bother them, because the guy on duty at the east gate, Zack, likes to watch them fall on their heads anyway.
The only time they really get interrupted is when the arts kids come out of the auditorium and cut right through their area to leave campus. Ryan has no problem with those kids and their shows, but he could do with less of the ones who have uppity attitudes, kind of like that jerk that ran into him the other day, and then acted like Ryan was the scum of the earth for getting in his way.
He keeps the camera rolling when they come out today, squinting into the viewfinder. His friends ask them questions about the show again, and the dancers shoot back vaguely sarcastic answers. One of Trevor's friends from a neighboring school asks if they're all invited to the show.
"What if I want to come?" he says.
"It's five dollars," a girl with curly blonde hair says. Ryan catches her profile in the camera, and asks before he really thinks about it, "But when is it?"
And the guy from the other day is standing next to her. He turns his head when Ryan asks, looking straight into the camera lens, and Ryan lowers it, caught off. Before he says anything, the curly-haired girl gets the guy's attention again, and soon they're too far away, their backs retreating, and Ryan doesn't have an answer.
;;
It seems that the closer the show gets, the later the rehearsals run. Ryan's friends start to take off for the evening before the dancers even come out of the auditorium as the weeks pass. One afternoon, Ryan calls his dad and says he's on his way home, but his dad tells Ryan he's not that far away from the school, running some errands actually. Ryan should just hang out there, and he'll pick him up in about half an hour.
Spencer and Brent didn't stay after school at all, so Ryan's alone on the benches, bored. He chances heading up the steps to the auditorium and, luckily, he finds the doors unlocked. He bounds back down the stairs, grabs his backpack and his skateboard and slips inside the building. He walks through the small foyer and into the theatre. The lights are down, so Ryan just feels his way to the last row, takes a seat in the back, and watches them run the show. He slouches down and puts his feet up on the seat in from of him, looking around to see if anyone notices him and might tell him to leave. No one does.
Ryan recognizes the guy and the curly-haired girl in a couple of the numbers. He watches quietly, and after one the songs, the tech teacher calls out that they're set up water and some snacks brought by parents in the lobby. He seems like a hardass, shouting out that students aren't allowed to bring any of the food back into the auditorium, so please eat it out there.
As the next set of dancers take the stage, Ryan notices that rude guy and a couple of the other dancers walk up the aisle, right past Ryan, and out of the door. Ryan grabs his stuff and goes into the lobby where the dancers are getting water bottles, occasionally picking at the fruit platters laid out on a table.
They sound like they're talking about the stuff they just did, about the show, and Ryan hangs back for a second. After a few minutes, the others say they're gonna go back in and wait for their cues, and Ryan steps closer as the guy says, "Alright, yeah. I'll be back in a minute. I just want some of these cookies."
Ryan goes over to him and says, "You didn't answer my question."
The guy says, "What?"
He looks up, confused, and clearly has no idea who Ryan is or what he's talking about. Ryan's got his backpack on one shoulder and his skateboard in his hand at his side, and this kid stares at him like he's waiting for a punchline already.
Ryan asks, "When's the show? This one, I mean."
He gestures toward the doors leading into the house with his head, jerking it. The guy smirks, watching him, and is... still kind of snob. He says, "We don't need you to come and bring your friends, dude."
"Um..." Ryan says.
The guy grabs his cookies, tucks them in a napkin and tells Ryan, "We're fine with people in the audience who actually like this stuff."
Ryan really doesn't know how to respond. It turns out that the guy doesn't seem to care, though. He holds up his napkin full of cookies in mock salute, and then sneaks back into the dark room. Ryan hopes he gets caught.
He stands around the lobby for a second, kind of insulted and, wow, that kid really is an ass. Ryan's Dad calls and says he's waiting in the parking lot a few minutes later, so Ryan shakes it off, grabs one of the mini turkey sandwiches set out for the dancers, and leaves.
;;
The good thing about it, for Ryan, is that it is still a school performance after all. He actually pays attention in homeroom and catches the PA reminder that encourages students to buy tickets for the upcoming dance production.
At lunch, Ryan asks Spencer if he's ever been to one of the school shows.
"Like the talent shows they have all-school assemblies for?" Spencer asks, and Ryan shakes his head.
"No, the other stuff," Ryan says. "The musicals and dance stuff."
Spencer says, "Oh, nope. But I've heard they're all pretty equally bad."
"Maybe we should check it out."
"Why?" Spencer asks, like he's already picturing a million other, more interesting things to do with his time. Ryan shrugs.
He says, "I don't know. What else are we doing?" and Spencer shrugs, too, but they don't agree either way.
;;
They do end up going. The tickets are cheap after all, and Spencer's kind of bored, so. They go.
The show is about as bad as they heard it would be, but some of the kids are good individually. Spencer's favorite part is the weird costumes they use for a few of the numbers, especially the whole segment titled "Gestation" in the program and seems to be about hatching bird eggs or something. There are a lot masks and feathers involved. He and Ryan joke about everything terrible and sit quietly through anything mildly entertaining. Ryan uses his cellphone to try read his program in the dark when he sees someone who doesn't suck on stage and attempts to assign names to faces, because he doesn't really know any of the arts kids. That's how he learns the rude kid's name. Brendon. He does a duet with one of the girls, and he's pretty decent.
The more he sees Brendon and the girl, Greta, the more Ryan thinks that they, along with a select few other kids, are probably a little better than decent, even. He leans sideways and mutters so to Spencer. Spencer agrees, but in that way where it's clear that he'd still rather be at home watching new episodes The Simpsons if only this were Sunday night. They stay through the whole show, though, and Ryan thinks he could've wasted his evening doing things far more ridiculous. At least there's that.
When the house lights come up, Ryan tells Spencer to hang on for a minute as other people start filing out. He makes his way to the stairs leading to the backstage area and waits for the dancers to come out, but after a few minutes only one has actually gotten her things and surfaced for the public. Ryan tells her she did a good job, and she thanks him, but he can't stay much longer without Spencer wondering what he's doing. He doesn't even know what he's doing, really, so Ryan gives up and goes home.
;;
Once the show opens, the students performing don't stay for any more rehearsal, they just show up at call time. Ryan stays after school, hanging out as usual, and when the dancers start to arrive, he keeps an eye out.
When he sees Greta, he tells his friends he's gonna go use the bathroom in the auditorium and stops her. Ryan tells her that he went to the show and says, "You were good. It was pretty good. I don't know a whole lot about it, but."
"Thank you," she says, and she asks his name. She's really polite and smiles faintly. It feels genuine rather than like she's waiting for an opportunity to ditch him.
Brendon shows up while Ryan says a few things to other kids in the cast. He comes in and totally interrupts the conversation Ryan's sort of having to ask the other dancer a question. He asks her if she has the wrap he used before, for his ankle, and when she goes to get it, Brendon turns to Ryan and says, "Sorry."
Without prompt, Ryan says, "I did like it."
"Uh," Brendon says, narrowing his eyes. "You... liked it?"
"You said I shouldn't come to your show because I wouldn't like it. I did," Ryan says, and he can see the recognition hit Brendon, sees their conversation click into place.
Brendon says, "Guess you got me then," and he's already back to being vaguely condescending.
Ryan asks, "Does that get old for you? The sarcasm?"
Brendon presses his lips together and looks away as if thinking. "Mm, not really. Though I try to give it a rest on the weekends. To stay fresh."
Trying a different approach, Ryan says, simply, "I'm Ryan."
Brendon pauses and then nods to himself. He looks over his shoulder and says, "Okay, Ryan. I -- gotta go."
And Ryan looks over to see someone waving Brendon over. Brendon takes off, completely dismissing him in an instant, and Ryan decides he's going to see the show again.
;;
He doesn't go to the show that night, but he goes to the 2pm matinee on Sunday, closing afternoon. Ryan goes by himself and sits somewhere in the middle of the room.
He sticks around afterwards, waits outside, and Greta even says hi when she spots him. Well, she waves, anyway. Ryan calls out that she did a really nice job again, and she thanks him another time. She comes closer and says he's really nice. She's glad he liked it enough to come twice.
Brendon doesn't come out of the auditorium for a while, but when he shows up, Ryan goes over immediately. He says, "So I lied. I didn't really like it. Not all of it, anyway, just some of you guys," and Brendon just looks at him.
"Ryan," he says, pointing at him. "Did you just see it again? That's --"
"It's the weekend; no sarcasm," Ryan says, holding up a hand, which actually catches Brendon off guard and makes him laugh.
Brendon says, "You're not supposed to take that literally."
Ryan says, "I've done irony. I'm over it."
Brendon looks around, says thank you to a couple people that interrupt to say he did well and tells one of the guys in the show to hold on a minute when he asks if Brendon's coming with him. Shifting his attention to Ryan again, he asks, "Have you ever been to a cast party?" Ryan shakes his head, clueless, and Brendon says, "They're pretty boring most of the time, but there's free food. You interested in free, Ryan?"
Ryan isn't one hundred percent sure if Brendon's asking him to tag along. He kind of has a thing to do anyway. His dad wants him to come home early, so he tells Brendon he's kind of busy, and Brendon says, "Okay, fuck you, then," but he's smiling. The other dancer calls his name again, and Brendon says, "Later, Ryan," and takes off.
Ryan's sick of him doing that already.
;;
Once the school show is done, Ryan doesn't really see Brendon at all. They don't have classes together, and Brendon doesn't seem to hang around after school for any other reason Ryan knows about. He sees Greta around campus more than he sees Brendon, and she says hello to him regularly and will stand in the lunch line with him, but they don't really hang out either. He isn't sure what he expects to happen or why he cares, but he finds himself looking for Brendon between classes, thinking he might spot him in the crowd, and rarely does.
Ryan ends up mentioning the show around Brent within the following days. Brent brings up stage class and how the teacher is making them take down the sets and clean up the dressing rooms post-show although they didn't even make the mess, and Ryan mentions that he saw it. The show. He and Spencer went.
"Oh, yeah?" Brent says. He looks around to Spencer, who just shrugs.
"It was okay," Ryan says. He talks about the dancers that he thought didn't suck, and when he gets to Brendon, Ryan says that he was alright, but he's kind of an asshole.
Brent says, "Dude, that kid. He wasn't even in the show at first. They rehearsed during our class period a couple times, you know? He got added later, and he goes to some big fucking academy or something."
"Yeah?"
"Yeah," Brent says, "I don't get what the big deal is, myself. He still has to wear tights." Both Ryan and Spencer laugh lightly.
"Do you remember the name of the school?" Ryan asks.
Brent tips his head back, thinking. He says, "I'm pretty sure it's just called Summerlin Dance Academy," and rattles off a few similar variations for good measure. "I don't know, man, why?"
Ryan lifts a shoulder, drops it. He says, "I just didn't know we had those places nearby."
iii.
Without the show, Brendon's back to spending more time at the dance school with kids who are actually talented. They have their own spring competitions and performances coming up, and Brendon's really busy between school and going to class there.
He obviously doesn't expect Ryan to show up in his territory, hasn't really thought about the dude, but there Ryan is anyway. It's completely random. Brendon sees him peeking into the rehearsal rooms, watching the classes. He's with a friend, too, and Brendon cuts his conversation with William short to walk over to them.
Brendon says, "Stalking isn't actually the highest form of flattery."
Ryan turns around. He says, "I'm pretty sure you just came over and got my attention."
"Why are you here?" Brendon asks, straightforward, genuinely confused.
Ryan's friend next to him says, "That's what I want to know," and Brendon laughs.
"Spencer, Brendon. Brendon, this is Spencer," Ryan says, rolling his eyes. They don't shake hands. To Brendon, Ryan says, "I just wanted to know what was so special about what you do. I want to see what it is I can't appreciate."
He glances into the rehearsal room they're standing by again, a modern class in session inside. Brendon taps his shoulder, getting his attention again, and says, "Like I said: stalking."
Spencer says, "Ryan, I need to get home before my mom freaks out."
Ryan says, "Okay, yeah, yeah," holding his hand up to stall. Brendon notices him wring his hands on his skateboard a little. He shrugs and adds, "We're probably going to get food before we go home..."
Brendon says, "I still have to finish-- " ready to blow them off, and Ryan says, "Do you like free stuff or not, Brendon?"
Brendon recognizes what Ryan's doing there. He's starting to get that Ryan likes to throw his own words back at him. He notices that Spencer shoots a confused look at Ryan, but Ryan doesn't offer any explanation. He watches Brendon, strangely patient, and Brendon says, "No, thanks."
"Why not?"
"Half an hour where you and your friends run through all your best jokes, and everybody asks me if I'm gay over and over? I'm cool, thanks."
"Are you?" Spencer asks suddenly but not necessarily unkindly. Ryan startles.
As he says, "You don't have to -- " knocking the edge of skateboard into Spencer, Brendon says, "Kiss me and find out."
Both of their jaws drop, and Brendon laughs again. He mimes holding a camera and snapping their picture.
"Priceless," he says, and then, "Thanks for the offer, but I have to finish class and then pack up my things. You guys have fun," before walking away, amused.
;;
Brendon's really surprised when Ryan keeps showing up. He catches him checking out classes sometimes, spots him at the door, watching Brendon dance. It's fucking weird, but it begins to pique his interest after several days. What does this kid want?
Brendon finally says something else to him one day, after finishing his jazz instruction. He says, "You don't quit."
Ryan just says, "What, I think it's interesting."
He has a flyer in his hand, something about auditions, and Brendon asks, "You're going try to get involved now?"
Ryan looks down at it. He says, "Oh, no, some lady handed it to me outside," shaking his head. "I don't even have rhythm."
"No? You don't want to bust a move?" Brendon asks, and he does some ridiculous step that's totally graceless, shuffling his feet, and then pushes at Ryan's arm. "Come on. You sneak around here often enough. I know you learned something."
Ryan laughs and keeps refusing, but Brendon's kind of insistent and ridiculous about it. He keeps dancing like an idiot, and when Ryan starts to move finally, he really doesn't look any better.
Brendon stops, laughing, and says, "Okay, you weren't -- you weren't kidding."
"Be quiet," Ryan says. "Not everyone's a fucking ballerina."
"Excuse me? Do I look like I have on a tutu? I'm a man, thank you." He grabs his crotch for emphasis and everything.
Ryan laughs and Brendon just starts dancing again. He makes his way to the stereo and back, not doing anything fancy, just sort of bouncing around a lot until Ryan joins in again. Brendon laughs, but it's more with Ryan than at him, and Ryan seriously doesn't have rhythm, but Brendon learns a few minutes in that he at least has enough coordination to go from flailing alongside Brendon to standing in front of him in an instant. Ryan holds his hand on Brendon's forearm and kisses him quietly under the loud rush of the music.
Brendon is kind of impressed.
He never really pegged Ryan for the kind of guy who'd just go for things, though it isn't like Brendon actually knows him very well, anyway. So, okay, he really has no clue about what he'd expect from Ryan period, because the dude just showed up one day and didn't go away. Brendon doesn't know what his deal is at all, actually, so this makes as much sense as anything, but when he steps back, Brendon still says, "Whoa, okay."
He's still kind of surprised by it.
Ryan says, "Um. Yeah," and he looks more shocked than Brendon feels.
Brendon says, "I guess you're still taking what I say literally."
It feels like the sort of half-conversation they should be having in nervous whispers, but the music's too loud. They're both kind of shouting, and Ryan practically yells, "No, I didn't mean to, like -- "
Brendon shakes his head, saying, "No, no, you weren't wrong," and pushes up on his toes when he kisses Ryan back even though he doesn't necessarily have to.
It's sort of bizarre when they break the second time, because Brendon kind of realizes, okay, he's kissing this dude he hardly knows. He walks to shut off the music and turns around.
Brendon says, "So. That was fun."
The second Ryan cracks even a tiny smile, they both laugh. Brendon doesn't know what to say, and Ryan isn't forthcoming, so Brendon asks, "How do you get home?"
"I usually take the bus from here," Ryan says. He explains that it's too far to walk, and the car his dad bought for him needs work before he can drive it.
"Well," Brendon says. "My mom is picking me up today. I don't have my own car, broken or not, but if you want a ride and won't be embarrassed by a car that looks like Barney on wheels..."
"Yeah!" Ryan says, and then clears his throat. "Yeah, okay. Thanks."
"No problem." Brendon smiles.
He has one more class to attend, so Ryan will have to hang around while he finishes up for the day. Brendon tells Ryan that maybe he could even sit in the back of the room and watch instead of lurking in the doorway like a creep. Ryan denies that anything about him is creepy, but chuckles and agrees. Brendon can see him in the mirror as he takes class, and it's kind fun to catch Ryan's eye, to know Ryan might be watching him closely. They always schedule the most advanced classes at the end of the day in order to wear the students out and let them go home satisfied, and there's no way to prove it, but Brendon might even show off a little bit.
In the car with his mom, Brendon introduces Ryan as a friend from school. He sits in the front seat and looks over his shoulder a few times as Brendon's mom asks Ryan general questions about nothing particularly important. Ryan tells her that it's just him and his dad, that, yeah, school's alright. No, he doesn't dance, but he likes to watch it. Yes, it's pretty impressive.
When they get to Ryan's house, Brendon's mom asks if there's anyone to let him in, and Ryan explains that his dad probably isn't home from work yet, but it's fine because he has a key. As he gets out, Brendon says, "I'll see you tomorrow, Ryan."
Ryan says, "Yeah, definitely," and he gnaws on his lip like he's trying not to smile too hard. He thanks them for the ride, and Brendon's mom keeps the car in neutral until Ryan disappears though the door.
iv.
Now that Ryan knows Brendon's kind of dork when he's not being a snob, Ryan likes him more and stops by the academy even more frequently. They still don't really hang out in the same circles at school, but Ryan meets Brendon at his dance classes after he hangs with Spencer, Brent, and the other guys for a while. He watches the classes and finds himself sometimes mimicking the routines from where he sits, and he always feels caught when he looks at the mirror ahead of the dancers and notices Brendon looking back at him.
In between classes, Brendon usually has fifteen minutes or so, and he and Ryan play around in the empty rehearsal rooms. Brendon even tries to show Ryan the basic ballet positions, and Ryan feels ridiculous. Brendon positions his arms and stands behind Ryan, sort of ghosting the positions right against Ryan's body and saying, "Just follow me, yeah."
A few times they just find the empty rooms and make out against the wall. Ryan doesn't really know what he's doing with Brendon. He's never done anything with another guy, but Brendon doesn't make him feel awkward, just clutches his fingers in Ryan's t-shirt and opens his mouth, inviting.
Days when Brendon's mom doesn't pick them up, Brendon does start agreeing to grab food on their way home. They live in the same part of town, though not necessarily right down the street from each other or anything. There's a cool shop on the intersection where they usually split off and take different buses, and they have lunch there sometimes.
One day they're eating there, Brendon picking at Ryan's chips -- stealing some because he's finished his own. He dusts salt off his hands and says, "So, you said your dad isn't home in the afternoons?"
Ryan pauses. He swallows the mouthul of sandwich he's working on and says, "Nope. He works, so. Doesn't usually get home until like seven."
And Brendon says, totally nonchalant, "We're not doing anything new at the academy tomorrow. I was thinking about skipping it. Just for the day or something."
Ryan isn't stupid. He gets kind of nervous and excited right then, putting together what Brendon's implying and says, "Really? I mean, I'm not doing anything tomorrow. You should -- come over. After school," and Brendon smiles at him.
;;
Ryan's restless throughout all of his classes the next day, and then gets surprised when Brendon shows up in his sixth period, telling the teacher that the counselor has summonsed Ryan to the office. Ryan grabs his backpack and hustles out of the room.
Outside, Ryan asks Brendon what the summons is for, and Brendon says, "I don't know. I made it up. My teacher thinks I'm in the bathroom right now. Come on, let's go."
"Are you kidding?" Ryan says, stopping.
Brendon makes it a couple more steps before turning around. He says, "Don't tell me you don't know ways to get off campus without getting caught."
"No. No, I do," Ryan says. "That wasn't --"
He drops it. Nevermind. He definitely knows how to get them off campus. Ryan spends enough time here with his friends after school and jumping the gates on weekends that he knows all the secret ins and outs.
It's only halfway through the period when they leave and head to Ryan's house. Once they get off the bus a few blocks away from his home, the neighborhood's really quiet, and Ryan takes Brendon's hand without any warning. He glances at Brendon, and Brendon doesn't say anything but doesn't let go, and Ryan leads the way to his house.
Inside, Brendon takes off his bag and drops it by the door. Ryan asks, "Do you want anything?"
"No, I'm good," Brendon says.
Ryan drops his own backpack by the couch, and as he turns around, saying, "Yeah, so this is it," Brendon steps close and kisses him. Ryan responds automatically, a small moan escaping him and smashing against Brendon's lips.
Brendon shifts them so that they're right against the couch. Ryan's knees buckle, and Brendon bends forward to maintain the kiss, following Ryan down as he sits. His hands come up around Brendon's hips, curved around the waist of his jeans and his belt. Ryan stares at Brendon's stomach, covered by the t-shirt. He thinks about leaning forward, breathing hotly over the fabric, curious, and when he looks up to Brendon's face, Brendon's just staring down at him, mouth slack and eyes heavy.
"What do you want to do?" Brendon asks.
Ryan says, "We could..."
He touches Brendon's belt buckle. He starts to slip it open, uses both hands to work the leather, and Brendon touches Ryan's wrist, slides his grip along Ryan's forearm. Ryan gets the belt open and pulls down Brendon's zipper. He drags his hand over the seam as he drops it, and Brendon inhales. He climbs into Ryan's lap before Ryan can pull down the jeans, kissing him again.
"What do you want to do?" Brendon repeats. He breaks away to pull at Ryan's shirt, Ryan raising his hands and letting Brendon slip it over his head. Brendon rocks their hips together, and Ryan presses his face into Brendon's chest, muffles a grunt.
He does open his mouth against Brendon's shirt then, whispering, "Would you let me -- Can I say everything?"
Brendon shifts off of Ryan, both of them twisting so that Brendon can lie down. They get his pants around his calfs and Ryan takes a moment to stare at him like that, can't believe how anxious he feels right now, ready for this.
He kneels over Brendon and touches his cock, grips him tight and strokes slow. Brendon exhales through his nose, says, "Mm, hey," and Ryan pauses as Brendon reaches to get Ryan's own pants undone.
He stays hunched over Brendon kind of awkwardly, and they jerk each other off like that. Ryan's spine starts to hurt after too many minutes, but he can't stop long enough to change his position either. He likes the way Brendon's looking at him so much that he doesn't avert his attention for very long, and Ryan tries hard not to close his eyes when he comes.
Brendon's own come catches on his stomach and Ryan's fingers, and Ryan says, "We didn't even -- " trying to dip forward to kiss Brendon without smearing the mess between them any.
"We still have time, right?" Brendon says, and it's true. They still have a few hours, so Ryan kisses him, eventually forgets about the mess, gets his own pants down more, lying on top of Brendon and slowly grinding until they're both ready again.
Ryan takes off Brendon's shirt. He wipes off Brendon's stomach, cleans they're hands, and drops the shirt on the floor. He presses his lips to the corner of Brendon's mouth, kisses his cheek and asks, "Have you ever, uh, I don't know if --"
Brendon's worked one of his legs free, hitches it up and bucks against Ryan. He says, "Yeah, I've done it before. We can fuck." Ryan gets a chill hearing the word and feeling Brendon's foot knock against his thigh. Brendon adds that, "I brought stuff. In my bag," and Ryan curses.
"You were ready? All day?" Ryan asks, and Brendon chuckles, smiling faintly.
"You were, too," he mumbles, and Ryan. Ryan totally has been.
(He had jerked off before he fell asleep the night before, thinking about their plans, the kisses in vacant rooms and wandering hands that sometimes chanced more but never enough to spoil. He thought about having Brendon in his house, just the two of them and a whole afternoon. Ryan had thought about fucking Brendon, came with his eyes closed and his hands down his pants, and couldn't wait.)
He lets Brendon get up to dig through his bag and retrieve what they need, taking the time to kick off the pant leg still caught around one ankle. It's the first time Ryan's seen Brendon completely naked, and Ryan watches him as he moves to the door and back, getting his own pants off completely in the interim. Brendon hands Ryan a condom and opens the lube himself. Ryan sits back on his heels, opening the packet and pauses as he sees Brendon wet his own fingers, lie back and reach to touch himself, biting his lip and pushing a finger inside.
"Whoa," Ryan says, the word mostly breath, and he lays a hand on Brendon's knee, mesmerized. Brendon adds another finger, and he catches Ryan's eyes when Ryan looks from Brendon's hand to his face. "Do you do that a lot?"
Brendon huffs out a breath raises his hips a bit and says, "Sometimes. It's better though, if you do it," and he holds the lube out with his free hand.
Ryan dribbles some on his fingers, slicks them up and bumps his fingers against Brendon's as Brendon pulls out, and Ryan takes a breath and pushes in. It's tight -- Brendon's tighter than Ryan imagined, and Brendon's back bows for him, appreciative.
"Spread them," he says, and Ryan does tentatively. Brendon says, "Okay," after a few minutes, Ryan watching his fingers slide in again and again.
It's even better when he gets prepared and pushes in himself. Brendon's warm around him, and Ryan slides forward and then out smoothly. Brendon has his legs curled up, one over Ryan's shoulder, and it's a little cramped on the couch, but Brendon says, "keep going -- just," and Ryan does. He's hot everywhere their skin touches, and Brendon says his name like a secret, seemingly at a loss for anything else. Ryan only strokes his cock three, four times before Brendon comes again, fingers clutching any skin he can reach, face flushed.
Ryan stops fucking him, pulls out and lies against Brendon, still hard. When Brendon's breathing settles, he reaches down and finishes Ryan off for him, using sharp, tight jerks, and Ryan comes with his face pressed to Brendon's neck.
He says, "I want you to do me next. I want to know what it feels like."
Brendon nods. He says, "Everything. Everything, okay," and Ryan grins.
Ryan says, "Maybe we can take a break first, though."
They both laugh huskily. He sits up to look at the clock, check the time and then lies down again, relaxed.
They move to Ryan's bedroom with the intention of doing it the other way but end up just watching tv and playing around. Brendon pulls Ryan on top of him and kisses him thoroughly, the two of them making out until the sun starts to set, and Brendon needs to head home before Ryan's dad gets back.
v.
Brendon really likes Ryan. He hasn't really dated anyone since his first boyfriend, because that ended pretty badly and the couple guys that seemed worthwhile after him thought they were into guys one minute and then having identity crises the next, and Brendon had other, less stressful things to focus on, really. It had taken him a while to even get to the point where he felt like trying to hook up with other people, because he'd been really into his boyfriend, and that kid made Brendon feel like shit in the end.
After, William would always make mean jokes, quoting Weird Science and saying, "What an asshole. Look at his haircut: a guy with a haircut like that, you know he's an asshole," until Brendon laughed at least occasionally, but it really sucked for a while.
Ryan's okay, though. Brendon appreciates a guy with a persistence as borderline-annoying as his own. He's got a smile and dry humor that Brendon really enjoys, and it doesn't hurt at all that Ryan's just ridiculously hot. The guy's deceptively soft spoken more often than not, but he likes sex -- he likes Brendon -- and Brendon's skipped more classes to take detours to Ryan's house before going to the academy in the past couple weeks than he has in the past year.
The first time Brendon fucks Ryan they barely make it into the living room. They kiss on floor, desperately trying to get into each other's clothes without moving away. It takes some maneuvering, but then they get their pants off. Brendon blows Ryan, kneeling over him.
Ryan doesn't really say anything when Brendon stops sucking him off and jerks him instead, kissing his hip and inside his thigh. He goes with it easily, turns over when Brendon murmurs against his skin, "Okay. You said you wanted it on your knees, right?"
"Yeah," Ryan breathes.
Brendon kisses his spine when he turns over, has Ryan lean his elbows on the couch cushions and, instead of giving him fingers right away, drops down and uses his mouth. Ryan gasps, pants, "Ah," and leaves the exclamation suspended, alone. He settles into it, Brendon can hear him breath slow.
He finally asks -- actually sincerely asks "Is that -- your tongue?" And Brendon laughs at the way Ryan asks it, like there's a real possibility that he could be wrong.
Brendon says, "Was that okay?"
"Uh," Ryan says. "Yeah. Yeah, that's... fine."
Brendon doesn't do it again, though. He does drag his fingers there now, pushing one in slow. He pulls it out and gets lube, says, "relax, Ryan," as he pushes in again. He feels Ryan tense anyway, imagines his face clenched tight, eyes shut, and Brendon leans down to bite Ryan's ass a little, playfully. "Relax."
The gesture makes Ryan giggle. He says the scrape of Brendon's teeth tickles, and he eventually relaxes despite himself, thrown off by his humor. Brendon's fingers slide easier. He makes the sweetest noises when Brendon thrusts inside him, and they both suffer carpet burned knees after they come, but it's totally worth it.
When they hang out, it's usually just them, but Brendon gets Ryan to come to the park with him and some of the kids from the academy once or twice. He doesn't tell most of them about him and Ryan exclusively. William knows, and he's mentioned something to Greta at school, but Brendon's playing it safe this round. At the park they mostly run around and do nothing particularly special, but Brendon likes having Ryan there, likes when he loosens up and dances with them nonsensically.
They aren't overtly affectionate around other people, but Brendon falls over Ryan on the grass at one point, chuckling. Ryan rolls them over, and Brendon's chest heaves with his laughter. Ryan says that he likes Brendon. Face flushed and smiling down, he says he likes Brendon a lot, and Brendon reaches up to shake some of the dead blades of grass from Ryan's hair, saying, "I know."
He does know. And Brendon likes him, too.
vi.
The thing, though, is Ryan doesn't tell his friends. He doesn't even tell Spencer at first. His friends ask him where he goes all the time now, and Ryan says, uh, around. He doesn't know how to say, well, "I know I haven't before, but, uh, I'm dating this dude now," in a way that won't at least get a raised eyebrow.
But then Spencer asks him later, when it's just them, and Ryan does tell him. He asks Spencer if he remembers Brendon, the dancer kid.
"Oh, yeah," Spencer says.
"We kind of," Ryan says, "kissed. Or, I kissed him."
It isn't exactly a lie. He and Brendon might have done a whole lot since the first kiss, but he's trying not to dump too much on Spencer at once.
"Oh," Spencer says. "Wow."
Spencer's obviously surprised. Ryan cracks his knuckles, fidgeting more than he ever does, and tries to remind himself that he springs something new on Spencer every couple years, and Spencer's just learned to accept it. Ryan does what he wants. When Spencer doesn't say more right away, Ryan continues by saying he thinks he really likes Brendon, so. So, yeah. That's where he's been all the time lately. With Brendon. Who he likes.
"Okay, okay," Spencer says with a small laugh. "You're into him, I got it. You're serious."
Ryan says, "Yeah," and doesn't really grasp how nervous he is until he calms down some.
"I thought you said he was kind of an asshole," Spencer recalls. It's true. Ryan had said that, but it seems like a long time ago even though it's only been a few weeks.
Ryan shrugs. He says, "I don't know. He's alright."
"Alright," Spencer says, and he asks Ryan if he wants to get Chinese after school. It's the way that he slips into another subject so effortlessly that comforts Ryan. Spencer's made up his mind, and he's moved on. They're still okay.
;;
So, yes. Spencer knows. He doesn't really come around to hang with them all that much more, but he does show up with Ryan sometimes.
The first time he comes by after he knows about them, Spencer says, "So, you do like boys," and Brendon smashes his hands against Spencer's face and smacks a kiss right on his mouth, quick and loud. Spencer's gasps and kind of stares at Brendon wide-eyed when Brendon pulls back. Ryan's stunned, too, because he can't believe that happened and because there isn't a whole lot that throws Spencer off.
Brendon asks, "Got your answer?"
Spencer says, "Uhm," and looks at Ryan quizzically.
"You're blushing," Brendon points out.
"What? No, I'm not," Spencer says, but as soon as Brendon says it, it's true.
"You really are," Ryan agrees.
Spencer gets himself together and wipes his mouth, saying, "I was just thinking it's too bad, because I've had better."
Brendon laughs. Spencer hangs around for a while, meets a few of the other students at the dance academy, but he takes off before Ryan does.
;;
No one's expecting it, least of all Brendon, when Andy Mrotek gets a hairline ankle fracture or something last minute. It's not the worst injury, but he'll be taking it easy long enough that he can't perform for the dance academy's next show in a couple weeks.
At least, this is how Brendon explains the situation to Ryan, and then ends with, "Which, um, is why I need your help."
"What?"
"Look, Butcher's out," Brendon explains, "and you've been hanging out often enough that you have a general idea about how the routines go. We don't have time to redo the whole thing, dude."
"You can't possibly be serious," Ryan says. Brendon's face goes completely blank. Ryan drops his head back. "Oh, God."
Brendon taps his thigh insistently. He continues trying to convince him, saying, "Come on, I'll work with you. It's pretty simple stuff, you can pick it up."
It takes a good thirty minutes, and a handjob in the bathroom, but Ryan eventually gives in to him.
Ryan stresses out about having to practice in front of the other students right away, but Brendon says they'll set up some private runs at first. When Ryan starts to rehearse, Brendon stands in front of him in another empty rehearsal room, and says, "Okay, we'll go through it."
"Uh," Ryan says. Maybe they need the girl who's going to be his partner?
Brendon takes Ryan's arms and positions them, saying, yeah, but she's in another rehearsal right now. Ryan can work with her later, but he needs to learn the parts he doesn't know yet.
Ryan says, "Oh. Oh, so -- you?"
"Dude, if you make any jokes about me being the girl..." Brendon says, warning him, and Ryan smiles.
He says, "Of course not, no."
"Good," Brendon says, and moves one of Ryan's arms around to his back, telling him, "Okay. You lead, so," and they go through the routine.
;;
It takes some work, but Ryan gets it. Brendon's right, the routines he's doing could be a lot tougher, and Ryan doesn't feel like a total loser when he starts rehearsing with his partner, Jac. She's a pretty girl, if kind of flirty. Brendon walks Ryan through it with her a few times, but then he can't really spend too much time with Ryan because he has his own practicing to get through. Ryan rehearses with the rest of the dancers some, but he and Jac find time for a few more one-on-one sessions. Ryan wants to make sure he does this right. He's not a dancer at all, but he signed on for this, and he's not going to fuck it up.
And, really, Jac is extremely flirty. Ryan thinks she's cool, responds to it graciously, but he doesn't know how to really tell her to back off in any way that's subtle. She asks him how he got roped into helping them out, and Ryan tells her Brendon is a good friend of his. He's doing him a favor.
"That's really cool," she says, and she smiles at him. She looks at lot sweeter when she's in her dance clothes, hair pulled back from her face.
She's definitely his type, also, tilts her face up like a suggestion, and Ryan says, "Yeah. I guess."
The night of the show, Ryan fixes his costume, just a dress shirt and slacks for the show's opener, and tries to settle his stomach. He's got stage make up on and he worries about getting so nervous that he'll sweat and make it run. Brendon comes over to him just before the lights onstage go up. He doesn't say anything special, simply a quick, "Good luck," and the small pats he gives to Ryan's hip before stepping out of the wings sends a thrill threw him.
Ryan misses a couple steps during the first song, but his nerves mostly melt away by the middle of the tune. He's pumped full of adrenaline when he finishes his main number with Jac. She's his partner for a small portion of the closing number as well, and after the curtain drops, she tugs Ryan backstage. She passes up the dressing room though and pushes open a door leading out to small balcony area. The space is cluttered with what seems like props and set pieces stashed away after previous productions, and Ryan's saying, "That was crazy. I didn't think it'd be that fun."
"You were really good," she says.
"Yeah?" Ryan asks, "You're not just saying things to me, are you?"
"I promise," she says, laughing, and it's kind of chilly outside. Ryan thinks he should go get changed, looks down to say that to Jac, and she presses up on the balls of her feet to kiss him.
Ryan thinks of Brendon in the rehearsal room, bouncing up on his toes for no reason, and Ryan opens his mouth. A moment later, the door opens and Ryan stumbles back, looking toward the light that cuts out on the balcony. It takes him a minute to make out who's standing there, and of course -- of course -- it's Brendon.
Jac says, "Hey," completely clueless, and Ryan wants to tell her to shut up before she makes it worse for him.
He can't see Brendon's eyes like this, but he hears Brendon says, "Wow," and Ryan doesn't know if he's angry or, or. He repeats himself, says, "Wow, okay," and then the door shuts, and Ryan doesn't know what to say. He stands there for a second, holds his hands up when Jac tries to picks up where they left off.
He says, "I can't, um," and finally just heads into the backstage area again.
Ryan goes into the dressing room, looking for Brendon, but he's already rushed out during the couple minutes that Ryan hesitated.
vii.
Brendon's hurt. He's hurt, and he's fucking pissed, because, okay, whatever. He should've known Ryan was just another skater kid asshole. Another kid who thinks he wants to try something and figures he'll mess around with Brendon and drop him when he gets scared. He grabs his things without even changing out of the rest of his costume. He doesn't wash his face, just throws on a sweatshirt and hustles his parents out of the theatre.
They congratulate him on his performance, and Brendon thanks them numbly, slumped in the backseat and staring out of the window. He hates that he doesn't even care about the show right now. He should feel on top of the world right now, another successful recital completed, and instead he keeps thinking about Ryan fucking Ross and how much he sucks.
His mother chooses that moment to say, "And Ryan? Your friend, he was really great. I thought you said he didn't dance."
"He said that," Brendon reminds her and doesn't add a comment about how, well, she shouldn't be surprised though, because it turns out Ryan's a liar. He says he doesn't dance when he does, says he likes Brendon when he kisses girls Brendon has to see every day, and doesn't think twice about any of it.
Brendon feels awful.
;;
Ryan tries to talk to him. He seeks Brendon out at school of all places, and Brendon doesn't have anything to say to him. He tells him not to come around the academy anymore.
"Or, wait I guess I can't even say that if you need somewhere to make out with Jac," Brendon says, spitting the words out.
"Brendon."
Stopping him, Brendon says, "Look, fuck it, do what you want. If you could, uh -- if you wanted to never talk to me again, though, that would be great."
Ryan tries to protest, to get Brendon to listen to whatever, but Brendon could really care less. He finally asks, "Are you breaking up with me?"
Brendon snorts. "Is that a serious question?"
He tells Ryan that he doesn't have time for someone who obviously doesn't know what he wants. Brendon gets that Ryan hasn't told his friends, doesn't know how, maybe can't, and it's just. Brendon can't do it. Ryan has to find some other guy to take along for that ride, because he's over it, he really is, and Brendon thought Ryan liked him as much as he liked Ryan, but oh well. So, yes, they're breaking up. Yes.
The bell signaling the end of their lunch period rings, and Brendon walks away, heading to class without so much as a glance over his shoulder.
;;
Much to Brendon's relief, Ryan doesn't come around the academy after all. He's pretty sure that Jac only comes for the ballet and jazz classes. They've never really been friends, he doesn't know anything about her, but he finds himself keeping an eye on her for the next few days. He sees her when she comes in for class and never sees Ryan, and Brendon stops thinking about it after the afternoon that Jac actually asks him where his friend disappeared to, the one who was in the show. Brendon tries to remind himself that she just doesn't know anything about him and Ryan, and still has to squash the overwhelming urge to hit her in the throat anyway.
He just wants to take it out on somebody. Classes suddenly seem to drag on longer without trips to Ryan's house, watching television in his bedroom. He hasn't gone so many days without Ryan even showing up to bring food for both of them and hanging around for at least one class. It's strange, having things suddenly go back to the way they were before.
It hasn't been very long since he started seeing Ryan, but it feels like it's been a while. It's been long enough that Brendon has had time to grow accustomed to new routines and habits.
He hates this.
He tells Greta about it. They eat lunch near the west entrance of the campus, and he finally tells her that her that he stopped seeing Ryan two weeks ago after she asks Brendon why she hasn't heard anything about him recently.
"I'm sorry, Brendon," she says when Brendon finishes. "Hm. I wonder if that's why he hasn't said hi lately. Maybe he thinks I already knew?"
"That's stupid," Brendon says, because it is. It would be stupid if Ryan stopped being nice to Greta just because she's a friend of Brendon's. God.
Greta says, "Maybe," and holds out her Ziplock bag of grapes. She says, "Here. You like the purple ones, right?"
viii.
Ryan backs off. Brendon asks him to leave him alone and, fine, Ryan can do that. At first he's frustrated. He's annoyed with himself for kissing Jac and with Brendon for not taking the time to hear him out. Ryan goes back to hanging with his friends more, and it's like he never left. They skateboard, film both the successful stunts and all the wipeouts. He's home before his dad everyday again, and Ryan does his best to avoid Brendon like he asked, tries not to bother him.
After a few days, still acclimating to his old routines, Ryan starts to wonder if Brendon was right about him. He thinks about the kiss on that back balcony of the theatre, and wonders why he kissed her back. Maybe Brendon knows exactly what he's talking about, and Ryan begins to wonder if he was just looking for an out because he wasn't ready for Brendon. Not really.
Spencer asks how Brendon's doing on another afternoon where Ryan sticks around after school. Ryan says, "I don't know."
Spencer doesn't ask again. Ryan's thankful.
;;
That mode of thinking lasts about a week. Wallowing in self-pity isn't a great look for Ryan, so he blames himself for a while, steps back to re-evaluate the situation, and decides that, no, Brendon's still being unreasonable here. Another girl kissed him and that -- okay, that was pretty bad, but he hasn't seen her since, isn't even interested. It was a mistake, and he can take responsibility for it. He isn't ready to just let this go.
It also helps that Greta finds him between classes one day and says, "Since it's taking you way too long to hit rock bottom and start begging me for information, I'm just going to offer it up first."
She hands him a flyer. It's for a small performance in a couple nights. Ryan folds it up and looks at Greta, questioning.
He asks, "Is he -- ?"
"Yes, that's a show he's doing," she says and nods resolutely, lips pressed together. "He has shitty luck with guys, okay? I don't think you're all that bad, but you get why he's a little -- you know. Fix this, Ryan."
Ryan nods, promises he will, and Greta smiles for him. She says that that's good. She won't have to crack his kneecaps then. She says that with a smile, too.
Over the course of two days, Ryan prepares a speech, practices it in the mirror, and scraps the whole thing. He shows up for the performance and takes a seat in the back of the room. It feels like the beginning had, Ryan trying to see what the deal was with this guy he couldn't resist. He slumps down in his seat. Brendon doesn't notice at all during the performance, and Ryan gets increasingly tense as the music playing swells.
He thinks about giving up, leaving. He doesn't.
It's a relatively short display, just a couple different local dance schools perform two numbers each. It takes Ryan some time to find Brendon after his group leaves the main room. When he does run into him, though, Ryan has no time to gather his wits. When Ryan catches his eyes, Brendon's already staring at him, frozen as Ryan walks over.
"What do you want?" he asks, voice flat.
Ryan scratches the back of his head idly, messes with his hair and thinks about being funny and telling Brendon that he just came to see the show, but. "Brendon -- "
"I asked you to leave me alone."
"Brendon, listen," Ryan tries again, putting some force behind the words. Brendon stops, and as soon as Ryan has his attention, he doesn't really know what to do with it. "Look, she kissed me -- "
Brendon huffs, says, "Whatever," and begins to pull away, but Ryan barrels forward with what he's trying to say.
He says that that Jac kissed him, and it's not what Brendon thought, but it's also not an excuse, he knows. Brendon's right. This whole thing makes Ryan nervous some days. He isn't going to lie and say that he doesn't wonder, sometimes, how the hell he's going to tell people thinks he's in love with this guy -- this dancer who hates him now, but he is. Anyway, he has at least told Spencer, and he'll manage with everyone else, and, fuck, Brendon never even gave him a chance. Ryan might be a little scared, but Brendon is clearly scared, too, because he jumped to about eight million different conclusions so fast that night, like he'd been waiting for Ryan to fuck him over in any way, and Ryan doesn't know what he's doing, that's true, but he wants to learn.
He draws closer as he speaks, tries to use the measly couple inches of height he has on Brendon to his advantage.
Brendon says, "It's not that easy."
"I don't need this easy," Ryan confesses. "I just need it."
When he leans in, Brendon rocks back a bit, avoiding him, but Ryan gradually gets nearer still, and Brendon lets their lips touch. Their mouths brush, and he finally lets Ryan kiss him, Brendon's mouth as soft and warm as he's missed, and Ryan just feels relieved.
"You could fuck us over," Brendon says, murmuring against Ryan's mouth.
"But I don't want to," Ryan tells him, and he hopes that's enough. At least for now, he hopes that Brendon can just trust that truth, because Ryan doesn't have anything but his word. There's a tense pause between them, then, but Brendon does nod eventually, bumps the back of his hand against Ryan's stomach, and Ryan exhales shakily, happy.
;;
The story goes like this: boy meets boy, boy likes boy, boy gets boy. There's a period where boys loses boy, but thankfully, boy buys a clue, and gets boy back.
Or. Depending on where one starts: boy meets boy, boy dismisses boy, boy grows to like boy, and boy leaves boy, but both versions end the same way:
Ryan kisses Brendon again, and then Brendon steps back and punches Ryan hard in the arm. Ryan hisses, and Brendon says, "Yeah, I hope it hurts. Punk. Don't do that again."
"Ow," Ryan says. "I'm not."
"Just checking," Brendon says, and turns away for a second to say goodbye to someone who calls his name. Looking back to Ryan, he smiles lightly and says, "I hate that kid. So, um. Did you need a ride home?"
I should probably blame ficbyzee, starstillwonder, Julia Stiles, and Avril Lavigne. Crack is wack, folks. (Except for when it's awesome.) You probably think this is my Romance Cliche story and that I had a contemporary prompt, but nope, I'm just a wretch. Adventures in terrible chatfic; this isn't even entirely fleshed out. Someday soon I'll finish an actual, full-length story that isn't simply the result of me being ridic on AIM. For now, balletic leaping!
gigantic: hahaha oh MAN. Ryan as an inner city b-boy would be hilarious. hmm. Ryan was a skate punk kid, though, so, uh. maybe as a skater kid with absolutely no dance background at all? and then instead of being a sheltered mormon kid, Brendon's that dude who's studied dance since he was little and is used to kids like Ryan giving him and his friends a hard time. omg, this sounds like some of the most terrible aus out there. i don't care! it brings me wretched joy.
If this was a real story -- if this wasn't just some chatlog badfic, it would probably be called something other than --
Take Center Stage And Step Up to Save The Last Dance (He Was A Sk8er Boi)
by Charli J
Brendon/Ryan. AU. NC-17. They come from two different worlds.
100% untrue work of fiction, no harm intended, etc.
i.
It isn't that Brendon doesn't have time to do the show. It's that he doesn't want to do it. Brendon tries his best to avoid getting roped into the high school's productions because they're full of beginners just trying to get a passing grade and doing recitals because they have to, whether they like it or not. Most of the students in the few dances classes the school offers end up there against their will because the regular PE classes fill up too quickly. It's as if the arts department is where the guidance counselor sends all the academic run off. These losers don't really want to be bothered with performing, and Brendon doesn't want to be bothered with them.
Unfortunately, Brendon is slowly learning that it's almost impossible to say no to Greta Salpeter. She says, "Brendon, come on. I wouldn't ask if I didn't have to, but we're short male dancers, and the director's looking for anyone to help out now."
He grumbles and protests for a few minutes, trying, "I've got classes at the academy after school and weekends."
"Please," Greta says. She doesn't pout, and that makes it worse. He could say no to a pouty whiner.
"But," Brendon says. The thing is that even though he does go to the academy usually, their own production isn't for a month or so. Brendon could cut down his hours spent there to make room for rehearsals here for a while.
He hates this school.
He says, "Alright."
"Alright?"
"I'll do the show," Brendon clarifies and despite Greta's smile, he isn't all that excited.
She squeezes Brendon's arm, touches his elbow and says, "Okay. Thank you, Brendon."
He shrugs and says, "I've got some free time."
"Yeah, yeah. I know you don't want to, but I appreciate it. I really do," she says. "Come talk to the director after school today. Get you started."
"Okay," Brendon says. She turns away smiling, heads in the opposite direction to get to class on time, and that's how Brendon finds himself tied to one of the school shows he tries so hard to avoid.
;;
The rehearsals are about as sloppy as he anticipates. The director has a hard time commanding the attention of the cast. Half the students don't even know how to spot when they warm up with chaine turns across the floor, but Brendon picks up his parts extremely quickly, satisfying the director, and that's all that matters to him, really. Well, that and the fact that he gets partnered with Greta for a modern piece. Greta's worlds better than most of the students here, and Brendon likes her. They've become good friends over the past couple years at the same school, and the only time rehearsal isn't almost entirely a joke is when they get to run through their number.
"They had me dancing with Siska at first," Greta says. "He's a good guy, but I think I'm too much lady for him."
"He's a weakling?" Brendon asks, smirking.
Greta smiles. She says, "But he really tried."
Brendon has no problems dancing with Greta or lifting her when the choreography calls for it. The rehearsals themselves really aren't difficult, although they do become tedious and trying after running through the same five minutes of music for hours at a time, because people won't just cooperate and pick up their cues. It's all mildly annoying by the end of each practice, and then Brendon has to deal with walking through the crowd of skaters that hang around the auditorium steps and benches along the building after school, using the rails and table tops to practice tricks.
It is the 21st century, isn't it? One would think that taking pot shots at a guy's masculinity got old a long time ago, but apparently not. The skaters are never automatically rude or all that bad, but Brendon's dealt with the occasional group of kids, girls and guys, who make sarcastic comments once he starts talking about what he does, how he's been dancing for years, and, yes, that includes ballet. People always think they're funnier than they really are. He doesn't care what anyone there thinks, but it's more that he doesn't feel like having to field the attempts at scathing humor at all.
He walks outside with a few of the other students after rehearsal. One of the skaters hanging around the area asks what they were doing -- in the auditorium, what's going on in there?
"Dance show," one of the girls offers helpfully as they pass. Brendon doesn't know all of their names yet.
Another one of the boys asks if the girls dance around in those shorts they're wearing right now. Brendon rolls his eyes at the same time another guy asks if the boys they're walking with dance around in tiny shorts, too, and the two laugh together.
Brendon's so busy looking back at them that he collides with one of the other skaters, some random skinny kid trying to do an ollie or what-the-hell-ever. The guy grabs Brendon's arms and pops up the front of his board, narrowly escaping an outcome that probably would have involved landing on Brendon's feet. He sort of uses Brendon as an anchor to regain his balance though, and Brendon shrugs him off when the shock of the moment passes, saying, "Dude. Excuse you."
"You ran into me," the guy says, stepping off of his board.
"Whatever," Brendon says, tugging at his left sleeve to straighten out the arm of his track jacket. He steps around the guy, snorting, and then follows Greta out of the gate, heading home.
ii.
Ryan. Ryan can't nail this fucking tail grind to save his life.
He tries all afternoon and falls eight times. After he lands hard on his side and his rotator cuff aches every time he rolls his arm from the shoulder, he stops and decides to take over video camera duty.
Spencer says, "Do you think you need ice? Me and Brent can go to the store down the street or something."
"No, I'm okay," Ryan says. Trevor sets up at the top of the stairs and calls down asking if Ryan's ready to film. Ryan yells, "Yeah, just come on!" and presses record.
They all hang out after school regularly, either here or the park, because it's quicker to get to than the actual skate park and has enough platforms, gates, and railing to make a day out worthwhile. More often than not, campus security doesn't even bother them, because the guy on duty at the east gate, Zack, likes to watch them fall on their heads anyway.
The only time they really get interrupted is when the arts kids come out of the auditorium and cut right through their area to leave campus. Ryan has no problem with those kids and their shows, but he could do with less of the ones who have uppity attitudes, kind of like that jerk that ran into him the other day, and then acted like Ryan was the scum of the earth for getting in his way.
He keeps the camera rolling when they come out today, squinting into the viewfinder. His friends ask them questions about the show again, and the dancers shoot back vaguely sarcastic answers. One of Trevor's friends from a neighboring school asks if they're all invited to the show.
"What if I want to come?" he says.
"It's five dollars," a girl with curly blonde hair says. Ryan catches her profile in the camera, and asks before he really thinks about it, "But when is it?"
And the guy from the other day is standing next to her. He turns his head when Ryan asks, looking straight into the camera lens, and Ryan lowers it, caught off. Before he says anything, the curly-haired girl gets the guy's attention again, and soon they're too far away, their backs retreating, and Ryan doesn't have an answer.
;;
It seems that the closer the show gets, the later the rehearsals run. Ryan's friends start to take off for the evening before the dancers even come out of the auditorium as the weeks pass. One afternoon, Ryan calls his dad and says he's on his way home, but his dad tells Ryan he's not that far away from the school, running some errands actually. Ryan should just hang out there, and he'll pick him up in about half an hour.
Spencer and Brent didn't stay after school at all, so Ryan's alone on the benches, bored. He chances heading up the steps to the auditorium and, luckily, he finds the doors unlocked. He bounds back down the stairs, grabs his backpack and his skateboard and slips inside the building. He walks through the small foyer and into the theatre. The lights are down, so Ryan just feels his way to the last row, takes a seat in the back, and watches them run the show. He slouches down and puts his feet up on the seat in from of him, looking around to see if anyone notices him and might tell him to leave. No one does.
Ryan recognizes the guy and the curly-haired girl in a couple of the numbers. He watches quietly, and after one the songs, the tech teacher calls out that they're set up water and some snacks brought by parents in the lobby. He seems like a hardass, shouting out that students aren't allowed to bring any of the food back into the auditorium, so please eat it out there.
As the next set of dancers take the stage, Ryan notices that rude guy and a couple of the other dancers walk up the aisle, right past Ryan, and out of the door. Ryan grabs his stuff and goes into the lobby where the dancers are getting water bottles, occasionally picking at the fruit platters laid out on a table.
They sound like they're talking about the stuff they just did, about the show, and Ryan hangs back for a second. After a few minutes, the others say they're gonna go back in and wait for their cues, and Ryan steps closer as the guy says, "Alright, yeah. I'll be back in a minute. I just want some of these cookies."
Ryan goes over to him and says, "You didn't answer my question."
The guy says, "What?"
He looks up, confused, and clearly has no idea who Ryan is or what he's talking about. Ryan's got his backpack on one shoulder and his skateboard in his hand at his side, and this kid stares at him like he's waiting for a punchline already.
Ryan asks, "When's the show? This one, I mean."
He gestures toward the doors leading into the house with his head, jerking it. The guy smirks, watching him, and is... still kind of snob. He says, "We don't need you to come and bring your friends, dude."
"Um..." Ryan says.
The guy grabs his cookies, tucks them in a napkin and tells Ryan, "We're fine with people in the audience who actually like this stuff."
Ryan really doesn't know how to respond. It turns out that the guy doesn't seem to care, though. He holds up his napkin full of cookies in mock salute, and then sneaks back into the dark room. Ryan hopes he gets caught.
He stands around the lobby for a second, kind of insulted and, wow, that kid really is an ass. Ryan's Dad calls and says he's waiting in the parking lot a few minutes later, so Ryan shakes it off, grabs one of the mini turkey sandwiches set out for the dancers, and leaves.
;;
The good thing about it, for Ryan, is that it is still a school performance after all. He actually pays attention in homeroom and catches the PA reminder that encourages students to buy tickets for the upcoming dance production.
At lunch, Ryan asks Spencer if he's ever been to one of the school shows.
"Like the talent shows they have all-school assemblies for?" Spencer asks, and Ryan shakes his head.
"No, the other stuff," Ryan says. "The musicals and dance stuff."
Spencer says, "Oh, nope. But I've heard they're all pretty equally bad."
"Maybe we should check it out."
"Why?" Spencer asks, like he's already picturing a million other, more interesting things to do with his time. Ryan shrugs.
He says, "I don't know. What else are we doing?" and Spencer shrugs, too, but they don't agree either way.
;;
They do end up going. The tickets are cheap after all, and Spencer's kind of bored, so. They go.
The show is about as bad as they heard it would be, but some of the kids are good individually. Spencer's favorite part is the weird costumes they use for a few of the numbers, especially the whole segment titled "Gestation" in the program and seems to be about hatching bird eggs or something. There are a lot masks and feathers involved. He and Ryan joke about everything terrible and sit quietly through anything mildly entertaining. Ryan uses his cellphone to try read his program in the dark when he sees someone who doesn't suck on stage and attempts to assign names to faces, because he doesn't really know any of the arts kids. That's how he learns the rude kid's name. Brendon. He does a duet with one of the girls, and he's pretty decent.
The more he sees Brendon and the girl, Greta, the more Ryan thinks that they, along with a select few other kids, are probably a little better than decent, even. He leans sideways and mutters so to Spencer. Spencer agrees, but in that way where it's clear that he'd still rather be at home watching new episodes The Simpsons if only this were Sunday night. They stay through the whole show, though, and Ryan thinks he could've wasted his evening doing things far more ridiculous. At least there's that.
When the house lights come up, Ryan tells Spencer to hang on for a minute as other people start filing out. He makes his way to the stairs leading to the backstage area and waits for the dancers to come out, but after a few minutes only one has actually gotten her things and surfaced for the public. Ryan tells her she did a good job, and she thanks him, but he can't stay much longer without Spencer wondering what he's doing. He doesn't even know what he's doing, really, so Ryan gives up and goes home.
;;
Once the show opens, the students performing don't stay for any more rehearsal, they just show up at call time. Ryan stays after school, hanging out as usual, and when the dancers start to arrive, he keeps an eye out.
When he sees Greta, he tells his friends he's gonna go use the bathroom in the auditorium and stops her. Ryan tells her that he went to the show and says, "You were good. It was pretty good. I don't know a whole lot about it, but."
"Thank you," she says, and she asks his name. She's really polite and smiles faintly. It feels genuine rather than like she's waiting for an opportunity to ditch him.
Brendon shows up while Ryan says a few things to other kids in the cast. He comes in and totally interrupts the conversation Ryan's sort of having to ask the other dancer a question. He asks her if she has the wrap he used before, for his ankle, and when she goes to get it, Brendon turns to Ryan and says, "Sorry."
Without prompt, Ryan says, "I did like it."
"Uh," Brendon says, narrowing his eyes. "You... liked it?"
"You said I shouldn't come to your show because I wouldn't like it. I did," Ryan says, and he can see the recognition hit Brendon, sees their conversation click into place.
Brendon says, "Guess you got me then," and he's already back to being vaguely condescending.
Ryan asks, "Does that get old for you? The sarcasm?"
Brendon presses his lips together and looks away as if thinking. "Mm, not really. Though I try to give it a rest on the weekends. To stay fresh."
Trying a different approach, Ryan says, simply, "I'm Ryan."
Brendon pauses and then nods to himself. He looks over his shoulder and says, "Okay, Ryan. I -- gotta go."
And Ryan looks over to see someone waving Brendon over. Brendon takes off, completely dismissing him in an instant, and Ryan decides he's going to see the show again.
;;
He doesn't go to the show that night, but he goes to the 2pm matinee on Sunday, closing afternoon. Ryan goes by himself and sits somewhere in the middle of the room.
He sticks around afterwards, waits outside, and Greta even says hi when she spots him. Well, she waves, anyway. Ryan calls out that she did a really nice job again, and she thanks him another time. She comes closer and says he's really nice. She's glad he liked it enough to come twice.
Brendon doesn't come out of the auditorium for a while, but when he shows up, Ryan goes over immediately. He says, "So I lied. I didn't really like it. Not all of it, anyway, just some of you guys," and Brendon just looks at him.
"Ryan," he says, pointing at him. "Did you just see it again? That's --"
"It's the weekend; no sarcasm," Ryan says, holding up a hand, which actually catches Brendon off guard and makes him laugh.
Brendon says, "You're not supposed to take that literally."
Ryan says, "I've done irony. I'm over it."
Brendon looks around, says thank you to a couple people that interrupt to say he did well and tells one of the guys in the show to hold on a minute when he asks if Brendon's coming with him. Shifting his attention to Ryan again, he asks, "Have you ever been to a cast party?" Ryan shakes his head, clueless, and Brendon says, "They're pretty boring most of the time, but there's free food. You interested in free, Ryan?"
Ryan isn't one hundred percent sure if Brendon's asking him to tag along. He kind of has a thing to do anyway. His dad wants him to come home early, so he tells Brendon he's kind of busy, and Brendon says, "Okay, fuck you, then," but he's smiling. The other dancer calls his name again, and Brendon says, "Later, Ryan," and takes off.
Ryan's sick of him doing that already.
;;
Once the school show is done, Ryan doesn't really see Brendon at all. They don't have classes together, and Brendon doesn't seem to hang around after school for any other reason Ryan knows about. He sees Greta around campus more than he sees Brendon, and she says hello to him regularly and will stand in the lunch line with him, but they don't really hang out either. He isn't sure what he expects to happen or why he cares, but he finds himself looking for Brendon between classes, thinking he might spot him in the crowd, and rarely does.
Ryan ends up mentioning the show around Brent within the following days. Brent brings up stage class and how the teacher is making them take down the sets and clean up the dressing rooms post-show although they didn't even make the mess, and Ryan mentions that he saw it. The show. He and Spencer went.
"Oh, yeah?" Brent says. He looks around to Spencer, who just shrugs.
"It was okay," Ryan says. He talks about the dancers that he thought didn't suck, and when he gets to Brendon, Ryan says that he was alright, but he's kind of an asshole.
Brent says, "Dude, that kid. He wasn't even in the show at first. They rehearsed during our class period a couple times, you know? He got added later, and he goes to some big fucking academy or something."
"Yeah?"
"Yeah," Brent says, "I don't get what the big deal is, myself. He still has to wear tights." Both Ryan and Spencer laugh lightly.
"Do you remember the name of the school?" Ryan asks.
Brent tips his head back, thinking. He says, "I'm pretty sure it's just called Summerlin Dance Academy," and rattles off a few similar variations for good measure. "I don't know, man, why?"
Ryan lifts a shoulder, drops it. He says, "I just didn't know we had those places nearby."
iii.
Without the show, Brendon's back to spending more time at the dance school with kids who are actually talented. They have their own spring competitions and performances coming up, and Brendon's really busy between school and going to class there.
He obviously doesn't expect Ryan to show up in his territory, hasn't really thought about the dude, but there Ryan is anyway. It's completely random. Brendon sees him peeking into the rehearsal rooms, watching the classes. He's with a friend, too, and Brendon cuts his conversation with William short to walk over to them.
Brendon says, "Stalking isn't actually the highest form of flattery."
Ryan turns around. He says, "I'm pretty sure you just came over and got my attention."
"Why are you here?" Brendon asks, straightforward, genuinely confused.
Ryan's friend next to him says, "That's what I want to know," and Brendon laughs.
"Spencer, Brendon. Brendon, this is Spencer," Ryan says, rolling his eyes. They don't shake hands. To Brendon, Ryan says, "I just wanted to know what was so special about what you do. I want to see what it is I can't appreciate."
He glances into the rehearsal room they're standing by again, a modern class in session inside. Brendon taps his shoulder, getting his attention again, and says, "Like I said: stalking."
Spencer says, "Ryan, I need to get home before my mom freaks out."
Ryan says, "Okay, yeah, yeah," holding his hand up to stall. Brendon notices him wring his hands on his skateboard a little. He shrugs and adds, "We're probably going to get food before we go home..."
Brendon says, "I still have to finish-- " ready to blow them off, and Ryan says, "Do you like free stuff or not, Brendon?"
Brendon recognizes what Ryan's doing there. He's starting to get that Ryan likes to throw his own words back at him. He notices that Spencer shoots a confused look at Ryan, but Ryan doesn't offer any explanation. He watches Brendon, strangely patient, and Brendon says, "No, thanks."
"Why not?"
"Half an hour where you and your friends run through all your best jokes, and everybody asks me if I'm gay over and over? I'm cool, thanks."
"Are you?" Spencer asks suddenly but not necessarily unkindly. Ryan startles.
As he says, "You don't have to -- " knocking the edge of skateboard into Spencer, Brendon says, "Kiss me and find out."
Both of their jaws drop, and Brendon laughs again. He mimes holding a camera and snapping their picture.
"Priceless," he says, and then, "Thanks for the offer, but I have to finish class and then pack up my things. You guys have fun," before walking away, amused.
;;
Brendon's really surprised when Ryan keeps showing up. He catches him checking out classes sometimes, spots him at the door, watching Brendon dance. It's fucking weird, but it begins to pique his interest after several days. What does this kid want?
Brendon finally says something else to him one day, after finishing his jazz instruction. He says, "You don't quit."
Ryan just says, "What, I think it's interesting."
He has a flyer in his hand, something about auditions, and Brendon asks, "You're going try to get involved now?"
Ryan looks down at it. He says, "Oh, no, some lady handed it to me outside," shaking his head. "I don't even have rhythm."
"No? You don't want to bust a move?" Brendon asks, and he does some ridiculous step that's totally graceless, shuffling his feet, and then pushes at Ryan's arm. "Come on. You sneak around here often enough. I know you learned something."
Ryan laughs and keeps refusing, but Brendon's kind of insistent and ridiculous about it. He keeps dancing like an idiot, and when Ryan starts to move finally, he really doesn't look any better.
Brendon stops, laughing, and says, "Okay, you weren't -- you weren't kidding."
"Be quiet," Ryan says. "Not everyone's a fucking ballerina."
"Excuse me? Do I look like I have on a tutu? I'm a man, thank you." He grabs his crotch for emphasis and everything.
Ryan laughs and Brendon just starts dancing again. He makes his way to the stereo and back, not doing anything fancy, just sort of bouncing around a lot until Ryan joins in again. Brendon laughs, but it's more with Ryan than at him, and Ryan seriously doesn't have rhythm, but Brendon learns a few minutes in that he at least has enough coordination to go from flailing alongside Brendon to standing in front of him in an instant. Ryan holds his hand on Brendon's forearm and kisses him quietly under the loud rush of the music.
Brendon is kind of impressed.
He never really pegged Ryan for the kind of guy who'd just go for things, though it isn't like Brendon actually knows him very well, anyway. So, okay, he really has no clue about what he'd expect from Ryan period, because the dude just showed up one day and didn't go away. Brendon doesn't know what his deal is at all, actually, so this makes as much sense as anything, but when he steps back, Brendon still says, "Whoa, okay."
He's still kind of surprised by it.
Ryan says, "Um. Yeah," and he looks more shocked than Brendon feels.
Brendon says, "I guess you're still taking what I say literally."
It feels like the sort of half-conversation they should be having in nervous whispers, but the music's too loud. They're both kind of shouting, and Ryan practically yells, "No, I didn't mean to, like -- "
Brendon shakes his head, saying, "No, no, you weren't wrong," and pushes up on his toes when he kisses Ryan back even though he doesn't necessarily have to.
It's sort of bizarre when they break the second time, because Brendon kind of realizes, okay, he's kissing this dude he hardly knows. He walks to shut off the music and turns around.
Brendon says, "So. That was fun."
The second Ryan cracks even a tiny smile, they both laugh. Brendon doesn't know what to say, and Ryan isn't forthcoming, so Brendon asks, "How do you get home?"
"I usually take the bus from here," Ryan says. He explains that it's too far to walk, and the car his dad bought for him needs work before he can drive it.
"Well," Brendon says. "My mom is picking me up today. I don't have my own car, broken or not, but if you want a ride and won't be embarrassed by a car that looks like Barney on wheels..."
"Yeah!" Ryan says, and then clears his throat. "Yeah, okay. Thanks."
"No problem." Brendon smiles.
He has one more class to attend, so Ryan will have to hang around while he finishes up for the day. Brendon tells Ryan that maybe he could even sit in the back of the room and watch instead of lurking in the doorway like a creep. Ryan denies that anything about him is creepy, but chuckles and agrees. Brendon can see him in the mirror as he takes class, and it's kind fun to catch Ryan's eye, to know Ryan might be watching him closely. They always schedule the most advanced classes at the end of the day in order to wear the students out and let them go home satisfied, and there's no way to prove it, but Brendon might even show off a little bit.
In the car with his mom, Brendon introduces Ryan as a friend from school. He sits in the front seat and looks over his shoulder a few times as Brendon's mom asks Ryan general questions about nothing particularly important. Ryan tells her that it's just him and his dad, that, yeah, school's alright. No, he doesn't dance, but he likes to watch it. Yes, it's pretty impressive.
When they get to Ryan's house, Brendon's mom asks if there's anyone to let him in, and Ryan explains that his dad probably isn't home from work yet, but it's fine because he has a key. As he gets out, Brendon says, "I'll see you tomorrow, Ryan."
Ryan says, "Yeah, definitely," and he gnaws on his lip like he's trying not to smile too hard. He thanks them for the ride, and Brendon's mom keeps the car in neutral until Ryan disappears though the door.
iv.
Now that Ryan knows Brendon's kind of dork when he's not being a snob, Ryan likes him more and stops by the academy even more frequently. They still don't really hang out in the same circles at school, but Ryan meets Brendon at his dance classes after he hangs with Spencer, Brent, and the other guys for a while. He watches the classes and finds himself sometimes mimicking the routines from where he sits, and he always feels caught when he looks at the mirror ahead of the dancers and notices Brendon looking back at him.
In between classes, Brendon usually has fifteen minutes or so, and he and Ryan play around in the empty rehearsal rooms. Brendon even tries to show Ryan the basic ballet positions, and Ryan feels ridiculous. Brendon positions his arms and stands behind Ryan, sort of ghosting the positions right against Ryan's body and saying, "Just follow me, yeah."
A few times they just find the empty rooms and make out against the wall. Ryan doesn't really know what he's doing with Brendon. He's never done anything with another guy, but Brendon doesn't make him feel awkward, just clutches his fingers in Ryan's t-shirt and opens his mouth, inviting.
Days when Brendon's mom doesn't pick them up, Brendon does start agreeing to grab food on their way home. They live in the same part of town, though not necessarily right down the street from each other or anything. There's a cool shop on the intersection where they usually split off and take different buses, and they have lunch there sometimes.
One day they're eating there, Brendon picking at Ryan's chips -- stealing some because he's finished his own. He dusts salt off his hands and says, "So, you said your dad isn't home in the afternoons?"
Ryan pauses. He swallows the mouthul of sandwich he's working on and says, "Nope. He works, so. Doesn't usually get home until like seven."
And Brendon says, totally nonchalant, "We're not doing anything new at the academy tomorrow. I was thinking about skipping it. Just for the day or something."
Ryan isn't stupid. He gets kind of nervous and excited right then, putting together what Brendon's implying and says, "Really? I mean, I'm not doing anything tomorrow. You should -- come over. After school," and Brendon smiles at him.
;;
Ryan's restless throughout all of his classes the next day, and then gets surprised when Brendon shows up in his sixth period, telling the teacher that the counselor has summonsed Ryan to the office. Ryan grabs his backpack and hustles out of the room.
Outside, Ryan asks Brendon what the summons is for, and Brendon says, "I don't know. I made it up. My teacher thinks I'm in the bathroom right now. Come on, let's go."
"Are you kidding?" Ryan says, stopping.
Brendon makes it a couple more steps before turning around. He says, "Don't tell me you don't know ways to get off campus without getting caught."
"No. No, I do," Ryan says. "That wasn't --"
He drops it. Nevermind. He definitely knows how to get them off campus. Ryan spends enough time here with his friends after school and jumping the gates on weekends that he knows all the secret ins and outs.
It's only halfway through the period when they leave and head to Ryan's house. Once they get off the bus a few blocks away from his home, the neighborhood's really quiet, and Ryan takes Brendon's hand without any warning. He glances at Brendon, and Brendon doesn't say anything but doesn't let go, and Ryan leads the way to his house.
Inside, Brendon takes off his bag and drops it by the door. Ryan asks, "Do you want anything?"
"No, I'm good," Brendon says.
Ryan drops his own backpack by the couch, and as he turns around, saying, "Yeah, so this is it," Brendon steps close and kisses him. Ryan responds automatically, a small moan escaping him and smashing against Brendon's lips.
Brendon shifts them so that they're right against the couch. Ryan's knees buckle, and Brendon bends forward to maintain the kiss, following Ryan down as he sits. His hands come up around Brendon's hips, curved around the waist of his jeans and his belt. Ryan stares at Brendon's stomach, covered by the t-shirt. He thinks about leaning forward, breathing hotly over the fabric, curious, and when he looks up to Brendon's face, Brendon's just staring down at him, mouth slack and eyes heavy.
"What do you want to do?" Brendon asks.
Ryan says, "We could..."
He touches Brendon's belt buckle. He starts to slip it open, uses both hands to work the leather, and Brendon touches Ryan's wrist, slides his grip along Ryan's forearm. Ryan gets the belt open and pulls down Brendon's zipper. He drags his hand over the seam as he drops it, and Brendon inhales. He climbs into Ryan's lap before Ryan can pull down the jeans, kissing him again.
"What do you want to do?" Brendon repeats. He breaks away to pull at Ryan's shirt, Ryan raising his hands and letting Brendon slip it over his head. Brendon rocks their hips together, and Ryan presses his face into Brendon's chest, muffles a grunt.
He does open his mouth against Brendon's shirt then, whispering, "Would you let me -- Can I say everything?"
Brendon shifts off of Ryan, both of them twisting so that Brendon can lie down. They get his pants around his calfs and Ryan takes a moment to stare at him like that, can't believe how anxious he feels right now, ready for this.
He kneels over Brendon and touches his cock, grips him tight and strokes slow. Brendon exhales through his nose, says, "Mm, hey," and Ryan pauses as Brendon reaches to get Ryan's own pants undone.
He stays hunched over Brendon kind of awkwardly, and they jerk each other off like that. Ryan's spine starts to hurt after too many minutes, but he can't stop long enough to change his position either. He likes the way Brendon's looking at him so much that he doesn't avert his attention for very long, and Ryan tries hard not to close his eyes when he comes.
Brendon's own come catches on his stomach and Ryan's fingers, and Ryan says, "We didn't even -- " trying to dip forward to kiss Brendon without smearing the mess between them any.
"We still have time, right?" Brendon says, and it's true. They still have a few hours, so Ryan kisses him, eventually forgets about the mess, gets his own pants down more, lying on top of Brendon and slowly grinding until they're both ready again.
Ryan takes off Brendon's shirt. He wipes off Brendon's stomach, cleans they're hands, and drops the shirt on the floor. He presses his lips to the corner of Brendon's mouth, kisses his cheek and asks, "Have you ever, uh, I don't know if --"
Brendon's worked one of his legs free, hitches it up and bucks against Ryan. He says, "Yeah, I've done it before. We can fuck." Ryan gets a chill hearing the word and feeling Brendon's foot knock against his thigh. Brendon adds that, "I brought stuff. In my bag," and Ryan curses.
"You were ready? All day?" Ryan asks, and Brendon chuckles, smiling faintly.
"You were, too," he mumbles, and Ryan. Ryan totally has been.
(He had jerked off before he fell asleep the night before, thinking about their plans, the kisses in vacant rooms and wandering hands that sometimes chanced more but never enough to spoil. He thought about having Brendon in his house, just the two of them and a whole afternoon. Ryan had thought about fucking Brendon, came with his eyes closed and his hands down his pants, and couldn't wait.)
He lets Brendon get up to dig through his bag and retrieve what they need, taking the time to kick off the pant leg still caught around one ankle. It's the first time Ryan's seen Brendon completely naked, and Ryan watches him as he moves to the door and back, getting his own pants off completely in the interim. Brendon hands Ryan a condom and opens the lube himself. Ryan sits back on his heels, opening the packet and pauses as he sees Brendon wet his own fingers, lie back and reach to touch himself, biting his lip and pushing a finger inside.
"Whoa," Ryan says, the word mostly breath, and he lays a hand on Brendon's knee, mesmerized. Brendon adds another finger, and he catches Ryan's eyes when Ryan looks from Brendon's hand to his face. "Do you do that a lot?"
Brendon huffs out a breath raises his hips a bit and says, "Sometimes. It's better though, if you do it," and he holds the lube out with his free hand.
Ryan dribbles some on his fingers, slicks them up and bumps his fingers against Brendon's as Brendon pulls out, and Ryan takes a breath and pushes in. It's tight -- Brendon's tighter than Ryan imagined, and Brendon's back bows for him, appreciative.
"Spread them," he says, and Ryan does tentatively. Brendon says, "Okay," after a few minutes, Ryan watching his fingers slide in again and again.
It's even better when he gets prepared and pushes in himself. Brendon's warm around him, and Ryan slides forward and then out smoothly. Brendon has his legs curled up, one over Ryan's shoulder, and it's a little cramped on the couch, but Brendon says, "keep going -- just," and Ryan does. He's hot everywhere their skin touches, and Brendon says his name like a secret, seemingly at a loss for anything else. Ryan only strokes his cock three, four times before Brendon comes again, fingers clutching any skin he can reach, face flushed.
Ryan stops fucking him, pulls out and lies against Brendon, still hard. When Brendon's breathing settles, he reaches down and finishes Ryan off for him, using sharp, tight jerks, and Ryan comes with his face pressed to Brendon's neck.
He says, "I want you to do me next. I want to know what it feels like."
Brendon nods. He says, "Everything. Everything, okay," and Ryan grins.
Ryan says, "Maybe we can take a break first, though."
They both laugh huskily. He sits up to look at the clock, check the time and then lies down again, relaxed.
They move to Ryan's bedroom with the intention of doing it the other way but end up just watching tv and playing around. Brendon pulls Ryan on top of him and kisses him thoroughly, the two of them making out until the sun starts to set, and Brendon needs to head home before Ryan's dad gets back.
v.
Brendon really likes Ryan. He hasn't really dated anyone since his first boyfriend, because that ended pretty badly and the couple guys that seemed worthwhile after him thought they were into guys one minute and then having identity crises the next, and Brendon had other, less stressful things to focus on, really. It had taken him a while to even get to the point where he felt like trying to hook up with other people, because he'd been really into his boyfriend, and that kid made Brendon feel like shit in the end.
After, William would always make mean jokes, quoting Weird Science and saying, "What an asshole. Look at his haircut: a guy with a haircut like that, you know he's an asshole," until Brendon laughed at least occasionally, but it really sucked for a while.
Ryan's okay, though. Brendon appreciates a guy with a persistence as borderline-annoying as his own. He's got a smile and dry humor that Brendon really enjoys, and it doesn't hurt at all that Ryan's just ridiculously hot. The guy's deceptively soft spoken more often than not, but he likes sex -- he likes Brendon -- and Brendon's skipped more classes to take detours to Ryan's house before going to the academy in the past couple weeks than he has in the past year.
The first time Brendon fucks Ryan they barely make it into the living room. They kiss on floor, desperately trying to get into each other's clothes without moving away. It takes some maneuvering, but then they get their pants off. Brendon blows Ryan, kneeling over him.
Ryan doesn't really say anything when Brendon stops sucking him off and jerks him instead, kissing his hip and inside his thigh. He goes with it easily, turns over when Brendon murmurs against his skin, "Okay. You said you wanted it on your knees, right?"
"Yeah," Ryan breathes.
Brendon kisses his spine when he turns over, has Ryan lean his elbows on the couch cushions and, instead of giving him fingers right away, drops down and uses his mouth. Ryan gasps, pants, "Ah," and leaves the exclamation suspended, alone. He settles into it, Brendon can hear him breath slow.
He finally asks -- actually sincerely asks "Is that -- your tongue?" And Brendon laughs at the way Ryan asks it, like there's a real possibility that he could be wrong.
Brendon says, "Was that okay?"
"Uh," Ryan says. "Yeah. Yeah, that's... fine."
Brendon doesn't do it again, though. He does drag his fingers there now, pushing one in slow. He pulls it out and gets lube, says, "relax, Ryan," as he pushes in again. He feels Ryan tense anyway, imagines his face clenched tight, eyes shut, and Brendon leans down to bite Ryan's ass a little, playfully. "Relax."
The gesture makes Ryan giggle. He says the scrape of Brendon's teeth tickles, and he eventually relaxes despite himself, thrown off by his humor. Brendon's fingers slide easier. He makes the sweetest noises when Brendon thrusts inside him, and they both suffer carpet burned knees after they come, but it's totally worth it.
When they hang out, it's usually just them, but Brendon gets Ryan to come to the park with him and some of the kids from the academy once or twice. He doesn't tell most of them about him and Ryan exclusively. William knows, and he's mentioned something to Greta at school, but Brendon's playing it safe this round. At the park they mostly run around and do nothing particularly special, but Brendon likes having Ryan there, likes when he loosens up and dances with them nonsensically.
They aren't overtly affectionate around other people, but Brendon falls over Ryan on the grass at one point, chuckling. Ryan rolls them over, and Brendon's chest heaves with his laughter. Ryan says that he likes Brendon. Face flushed and smiling down, he says he likes Brendon a lot, and Brendon reaches up to shake some of the dead blades of grass from Ryan's hair, saying, "I know."
He does know. And Brendon likes him, too.
vi.
The thing, though, is Ryan doesn't tell his friends. He doesn't even tell Spencer at first. His friends ask him where he goes all the time now, and Ryan says, uh, around. He doesn't know how to say, well, "I know I haven't before, but, uh, I'm dating this dude now," in a way that won't at least get a raised eyebrow.
But then Spencer asks him later, when it's just them, and Ryan does tell him. He asks Spencer if he remembers Brendon, the dancer kid.
"Oh, yeah," Spencer says.
"We kind of," Ryan says, "kissed. Or, I kissed him."
It isn't exactly a lie. He and Brendon might have done a whole lot since the first kiss, but he's trying not to dump too much on Spencer at once.
"Oh," Spencer says. "Wow."
Spencer's obviously surprised. Ryan cracks his knuckles, fidgeting more than he ever does, and tries to remind himself that he springs something new on Spencer every couple years, and Spencer's just learned to accept it. Ryan does what he wants. When Spencer doesn't say more right away, Ryan continues by saying he thinks he really likes Brendon, so. So, yeah. That's where he's been all the time lately. With Brendon. Who he likes.
"Okay, okay," Spencer says with a small laugh. "You're into him, I got it. You're serious."
Ryan says, "Yeah," and doesn't really grasp how nervous he is until he calms down some.
"I thought you said he was kind of an asshole," Spencer recalls. It's true. Ryan had said that, but it seems like a long time ago even though it's only been a few weeks.
Ryan shrugs. He says, "I don't know. He's alright."
"Alright," Spencer says, and he asks Ryan if he wants to get Chinese after school. It's the way that he slips into another subject so effortlessly that comforts Ryan. Spencer's made up his mind, and he's moved on. They're still okay.
;;
So, yes. Spencer knows. He doesn't really come around to hang with them all that much more, but he does show up with Ryan sometimes.
The first time he comes by after he knows about them, Spencer says, "So, you do like boys," and Brendon smashes his hands against Spencer's face and smacks a kiss right on his mouth, quick and loud. Spencer's gasps and kind of stares at Brendon wide-eyed when Brendon pulls back. Ryan's stunned, too, because he can't believe that happened and because there isn't a whole lot that throws Spencer off.
Brendon asks, "Got your answer?"
Spencer says, "Uhm," and looks at Ryan quizzically.
"You're blushing," Brendon points out.
"What? No, I'm not," Spencer says, but as soon as Brendon says it, it's true.
"You really are," Ryan agrees.
Spencer gets himself together and wipes his mouth, saying, "I was just thinking it's too bad, because I've had better."
Brendon laughs. Spencer hangs around for a while, meets a few of the other students at the dance academy, but he takes off before Ryan does.
;;
No one's expecting it, least of all Brendon, when Andy Mrotek gets a hairline ankle fracture or something last minute. It's not the worst injury, but he'll be taking it easy long enough that he can't perform for the dance academy's next show in a couple weeks.
At least, this is how Brendon explains the situation to Ryan, and then ends with, "Which, um, is why I need your help."
"What?"
"Look, Butcher's out," Brendon explains, "and you've been hanging out often enough that you have a general idea about how the routines go. We don't have time to redo the whole thing, dude."
"You can't possibly be serious," Ryan says. Brendon's face goes completely blank. Ryan drops his head back. "Oh, God."
Brendon taps his thigh insistently. He continues trying to convince him, saying, "Come on, I'll work with you. It's pretty simple stuff, you can pick it up."
It takes a good thirty minutes, and a handjob in the bathroom, but Ryan eventually gives in to him.
Ryan stresses out about having to practice in front of the other students right away, but Brendon says they'll set up some private runs at first. When Ryan starts to rehearse, Brendon stands in front of him in another empty rehearsal room, and says, "Okay, we'll go through it."
"Uh," Ryan says. Maybe they need the girl who's going to be his partner?
Brendon takes Ryan's arms and positions them, saying, yeah, but she's in another rehearsal right now. Ryan can work with her later, but he needs to learn the parts he doesn't know yet.
Ryan says, "Oh. Oh, so -- you?"
"Dude, if you make any jokes about me being the girl..." Brendon says, warning him, and Ryan smiles.
He says, "Of course not, no."
"Good," Brendon says, and moves one of Ryan's arms around to his back, telling him, "Okay. You lead, so," and they go through the routine.
;;
It takes some work, but Ryan gets it. Brendon's right, the routines he's doing could be a lot tougher, and Ryan doesn't feel like a total loser when he starts rehearsing with his partner, Jac. She's a pretty girl, if kind of flirty. Brendon walks Ryan through it with her a few times, but then he can't really spend too much time with Ryan because he has his own practicing to get through. Ryan rehearses with the rest of the dancers some, but he and Jac find time for a few more one-on-one sessions. Ryan wants to make sure he does this right. He's not a dancer at all, but he signed on for this, and he's not going to fuck it up.
And, really, Jac is extremely flirty. Ryan thinks she's cool, responds to it graciously, but he doesn't know how to really tell her to back off in any way that's subtle. She asks him how he got roped into helping them out, and Ryan tells her Brendon is a good friend of his. He's doing him a favor.
"That's really cool," she says, and she smiles at him. She looks at lot sweeter when she's in her dance clothes, hair pulled back from her face.
She's definitely his type, also, tilts her face up like a suggestion, and Ryan says, "Yeah. I guess."
The night of the show, Ryan fixes his costume, just a dress shirt and slacks for the show's opener, and tries to settle his stomach. He's got stage make up on and he worries about getting so nervous that he'll sweat and make it run. Brendon comes over to him just before the lights onstage go up. He doesn't say anything special, simply a quick, "Good luck," and the small pats he gives to Ryan's hip before stepping out of the wings sends a thrill threw him.
Ryan misses a couple steps during the first song, but his nerves mostly melt away by the middle of the tune. He's pumped full of adrenaline when he finishes his main number with Jac. She's his partner for a small portion of the closing number as well, and after the curtain drops, she tugs Ryan backstage. She passes up the dressing room though and pushes open a door leading out to small balcony area. The space is cluttered with what seems like props and set pieces stashed away after previous productions, and Ryan's saying, "That was crazy. I didn't think it'd be that fun."
"You were really good," she says.
"Yeah?" Ryan asks, "You're not just saying things to me, are you?"
"I promise," she says, laughing, and it's kind of chilly outside. Ryan thinks he should go get changed, looks down to say that to Jac, and she presses up on the balls of her feet to kiss him.
Ryan thinks of Brendon in the rehearsal room, bouncing up on his toes for no reason, and Ryan opens his mouth. A moment later, the door opens and Ryan stumbles back, looking toward the light that cuts out on the balcony. It takes him a minute to make out who's standing there, and of course -- of course -- it's Brendon.
Jac says, "Hey," completely clueless, and Ryan wants to tell her to shut up before she makes it worse for him.
He can't see Brendon's eyes like this, but he hears Brendon says, "Wow," and Ryan doesn't know if he's angry or, or. He repeats himself, says, "Wow, okay," and then the door shuts, and Ryan doesn't know what to say. He stands there for a second, holds his hands up when Jac tries to picks up where they left off.
He says, "I can't, um," and finally just heads into the backstage area again.
Ryan goes into the dressing room, looking for Brendon, but he's already rushed out during the couple minutes that Ryan hesitated.
vii.
Brendon's hurt. He's hurt, and he's fucking pissed, because, okay, whatever. He should've known Ryan was just another skater kid asshole. Another kid who thinks he wants to try something and figures he'll mess around with Brendon and drop him when he gets scared. He grabs his things without even changing out of the rest of his costume. He doesn't wash his face, just throws on a sweatshirt and hustles his parents out of the theatre.
They congratulate him on his performance, and Brendon thanks them numbly, slumped in the backseat and staring out of the window. He hates that he doesn't even care about the show right now. He should feel on top of the world right now, another successful recital completed, and instead he keeps thinking about Ryan fucking Ross and how much he sucks.
His mother chooses that moment to say, "And Ryan? Your friend, he was really great. I thought you said he didn't dance."
"He said that," Brendon reminds her and doesn't add a comment about how, well, she shouldn't be surprised though, because it turns out Ryan's a liar. He says he doesn't dance when he does, says he likes Brendon when he kisses girls Brendon has to see every day, and doesn't think twice about any of it.
Brendon feels awful.
;;
Ryan tries to talk to him. He seeks Brendon out at school of all places, and Brendon doesn't have anything to say to him. He tells him not to come around the academy anymore.
"Or, wait I guess I can't even say that if you need somewhere to make out with Jac," Brendon says, spitting the words out.
"Brendon."
Stopping him, Brendon says, "Look, fuck it, do what you want. If you could, uh -- if you wanted to never talk to me again, though, that would be great."
Ryan tries to protest, to get Brendon to listen to whatever, but Brendon could really care less. He finally asks, "Are you breaking up with me?"
Brendon snorts. "Is that a serious question?"
He tells Ryan that he doesn't have time for someone who obviously doesn't know what he wants. Brendon gets that Ryan hasn't told his friends, doesn't know how, maybe can't, and it's just. Brendon can't do it. Ryan has to find some other guy to take along for that ride, because he's over it, he really is, and Brendon thought Ryan liked him as much as he liked Ryan, but oh well. So, yes, they're breaking up. Yes.
The bell signaling the end of their lunch period rings, and Brendon walks away, heading to class without so much as a glance over his shoulder.
;;
Much to Brendon's relief, Ryan doesn't come around the academy after all. He's pretty sure that Jac only comes for the ballet and jazz classes. They've never really been friends, he doesn't know anything about her, but he finds himself keeping an eye on her for the next few days. He sees her when she comes in for class and never sees Ryan, and Brendon stops thinking about it after the afternoon that Jac actually asks him where his friend disappeared to, the one who was in the show. Brendon tries to remind himself that she just doesn't know anything about him and Ryan, and still has to squash the overwhelming urge to hit her in the throat anyway.
He just wants to take it out on somebody. Classes suddenly seem to drag on longer without trips to Ryan's house, watching television in his bedroom. He hasn't gone so many days without Ryan even showing up to bring food for both of them and hanging around for at least one class. It's strange, having things suddenly go back to the way they were before.
It hasn't been very long since he started seeing Ryan, but it feels like it's been a while. It's been long enough that Brendon has had time to grow accustomed to new routines and habits.
He hates this.
He tells Greta about it. They eat lunch near the west entrance of the campus, and he finally tells her that her that he stopped seeing Ryan two weeks ago after she asks Brendon why she hasn't heard anything about him recently.
"I'm sorry, Brendon," she says when Brendon finishes. "Hm. I wonder if that's why he hasn't said hi lately. Maybe he thinks I already knew?"
"That's stupid," Brendon says, because it is. It would be stupid if Ryan stopped being nice to Greta just because she's a friend of Brendon's. God.
Greta says, "Maybe," and holds out her Ziplock bag of grapes. She says, "Here. You like the purple ones, right?"
viii.
Ryan backs off. Brendon asks him to leave him alone and, fine, Ryan can do that. At first he's frustrated. He's annoyed with himself for kissing Jac and with Brendon for not taking the time to hear him out. Ryan goes back to hanging with his friends more, and it's like he never left. They skateboard, film both the successful stunts and all the wipeouts. He's home before his dad everyday again, and Ryan does his best to avoid Brendon like he asked, tries not to bother him.
After a few days, still acclimating to his old routines, Ryan starts to wonder if Brendon was right about him. He thinks about the kiss on that back balcony of the theatre, and wonders why he kissed her back. Maybe Brendon knows exactly what he's talking about, and Ryan begins to wonder if he was just looking for an out because he wasn't ready for Brendon. Not really.
Spencer asks how Brendon's doing on another afternoon where Ryan sticks around after school. Ryan says, "I don't know."
Spencer doesn't ask again. Ryan's thankful.
;;
That mode of thinking lasts about a week. Wallowing in self-pity isn't a great look for Ryan, so he blames himself for a while, steps back to re-evaluate the situation, and decides that, no, Brendon's still being unreasonable here. Another girl kissed him and that -- okay, that was pretty bad, but he hasn't seen her since, isn't even interested. It was a mistake, and he can take responsibility for it. He isn't ready to just let this go.
It also helps that Greta finds him between classes one day and says, "Since it's taking you way too long to hit rock bottom and start begging me for information, I'm just going to offer it up first."
She hands him a flyer. It's for a small performance in a couple nights. Ryan folds it up and looks at Greta, questioning.
He asks, "Is he -- ?"
"Yes, that's a show he's doing," she says and nods resolutely, lips pressed together. "He has shitty luck with guys, okay? I don't think you're all that bad, but you get why he's a little -- you know. Fix this, Ryan."
Ryan nods, promises he will, and Greta smiles for him. She says that that's good. She won't have to crack his kneecaps then. She says that with a smile, too.
Over the course of two days, Ryan prepares a speech, practices it in the mirror, and scraps the whole thing. He shows up for the performance and takes a seat in the back of the room. It feels like the beginning had, Ryan trying to see what the deal was with this guy he couldn't resist. He slumps down in his seat. Brendon doesn't notice at all during the performance, and Ryan gets increasingly tense as the music playing swells.
He thinks about giving up, leaving. He doesn't.
It's a relatively short display, just a couple different local dance schools perform two numbers each. It takes Ryan some time to find Brendon after his group leaves the main room. When he does run into him, though, Ryan has no time to gather his wits. When Ryan catches his eyes, Brendon's already staring at him, frozen as Ryan walks over.
"What do you want?" he asks, voice flat.
Ryan scratches the back of his head idly, messes with his hair and thinks about being funny and telling Brendon that he just came to see the show, but. "Brendon -- "
"I asked you to leave me alone."
"Brendon, listen," Ryan tries again, putting some force behind the words. Brendon stops, and as soon as Ryan has his attention, he doesn't really know what to do with it. "Look, she kissed me -- "
Brendon huffs, says, "Whatever," and begins to pull away, but Ryan barrels forward with what he's trying to say.
He says that that Jac kissed him, and it's not what Brendon thought, but it's also not an excuse, he knows. Brendon's right. This whole thing makes Ryan nervous some days. He isn't going to lie and say that he doesn't wonder, sometimes, how the hell he's going to tell people thinks he's in love with this guy -- this dancer who hates him now, but he is. Anyway, he has at least told Spencer, and he'll manage with everyone else, and, fuck, Brendon never even gave him a chance. Ryan might be a little scared, but Brendon is clearly scared, too, because he jumped to about eight million different conclusions so fast that night, like he'd been waiting for Ryan to fuck him over in any way, and Ryan doesn't know what he's doing, that's true, but he wants to learn.
He draws closer as he speaks, tries to use the measly couple inches of height he has on Brendon to his advantage.
Brendon says, "It's not that easy."
"I don't need this easy," Ryan confesses. "I just need it."
When he leans in, Brendon rocks back a bit, avoiding him, but Ryan gradually gets nearer still, and Brendon lets their lips touch. Their mouths brush, and he finally lets Ryan kiss him, Brendon's mouth as soft and warm as he's missed, and Ryan just feels relieved.
"You could fuck us over," Brendon says, murmuring against Ryan's mouth.
"But I don't want to," Ryan tells him, and he hopes that's enough. At least for now, he hopes that Brendon can just trust that truth, because Ryan doesn't have anything but his word. There's a tense pause between them, then, but Brendon does nod eventually, bumps the back of his hand against Ryan's stomach, and Ryan exhales shakily, happy.
;;
The story goes like this: boy meets boy, boy likes boy, boy gets boy. There's a period where boys loses boy, but thankfully, boy buys a clue, and gets boy back.
Or. Depending on where one starts: boy meets boy, boy dismisses boy, boy grows to like boy, and boy leaves boy, but both versions end the same way:
Ryan kisses Brendon again, and then Brendon steps back and punches Ryan hard in the arm. Ryan hisses, and Brendon says, "Yeah, I hope it hurts. Punk. Don't do that again."
"Ow," Ryan says. "I'm not."
"Just checking," Brendon says, and turns away for a second to say goodbye to someone who calls his name. Looking back to Ryan, he smiles lightly and says, "I hate that kid. So, um. Did you need a ride home?"
I should probably blame ficbyzee, starstillwonder, Julia Stiles, and Avril Lavigne. Crack is wack, folks. (Except for when it's awesome.) You probably think this is my Romance Cliche story and that I had a contemporary prompt, but nope, I'm just a wretch. Adventures in terrible chatfic; this isn't even entirely fleshed out. Someday soon I'll finish an actual, full-length story that isn't simply the result of me being ridic on AIM. For now, balletic leaping!