we are the greatest team ever
It should be illegal to feel this alive. Ryan’s body is crashing, tumbling in wave after wave of sheer ecstasy. He’s never felt more alive than he has right now, right now with Jon pinned under him on the cold metal of the roof of their tour van. They’re in a darkened parking lot, the bar lights not radiating out far enough for the two of them to be seen. There’s not effort to be quiet, Jon is gasping and grunting, hand working himself off between the two of them. Ryan peppers kisses across Jon’s jaw, sweat and sex and the heady scene of weed and whiskey. Ryan wants to feel like this forever, wants to live like this, with Jon, forever.
---
Jon knows, he knows that no one planned it. No one sat down and said ‘We’re going to give you someone, someone just for you.’ That didn’t happen but if feels like it did. When Jon looks across the stage or across the van or to the next bed over in their hotel room; Jon feels like it’s the truth. Jon doesn’t know how someone could fit so well; like some greater power took the other half of his heart, of his being and gave it away, tucked it away with some boy half way across the country, waiting for Jon to find it. It’s been happening a lot lately; when Jon looks up from across the stage and Ryan is smiling wide and bright, happier than Jon’s seen him in so long. It feels like he was made just for Jon, their smiles feel secret, the whole world feels like they're on the outside of an inside joke, time slows. But then Ryan’s gaze cuts to the crowd and time speeds up again and then he becomes property of everyone in the room. Ryan wasn’t made just for Jon, he really needs to remember that.
---
Jon’s not uncomfortable when Ryan drops to his knees in front of him during rehearsal for that night’s show. He’s really not. Ryan’s so elegant, graceful tucked on his knees, a far cry from the way he stumbles clumsy and long in person, when he randomly topples over on the bus. Ryan hasn’t had a good day today, a bad interview, he and Spencer got into a stupid tiff over hurting Brendon’s feelings with callous words, which really explains why Ryan is kneeling at Jon’s feet as opposed to pawing at Brendon or linking arms with Spencer. When Ryan looks up at Jon his eyes are heavy and tired, sad. Jon wants to reach out and touch, ruffle Ryan’s hair, touch at his cheek or neck or shoulder and just let him know it will all be okay. The song stalls, something on Spencer’s kit stopped working, and Ryan is still curled on his knees. Jon, without missing a beat drops down to his own knees, bass hanging behind him. He doesn’t think about it before he leans forward just as Ryan tucks his guitar behind him and closes his arms around Ryan, holds him tight and warm. Ryan startles and tenses up but as Jon holds on Ryan relaxes and when Ryan sets his chin over Jon’s shoulder Jon takes a moment to whisper. "It’ll be okay, everything will be fine."
---
Brendon never knew he was competing with Ryan. Not for what everyone thinks though. The two of them weren’t fighting for the spotlight or which of them got to sing. Brendon didn’t even realize they were competing until he lost, until he lost Jon. It all came to a head when the band dissolved, when holding on to Jon became impossible. Jon never really knew he was the much sought after prize in a futile contest. Jon had hugged Brendon the night he and Ryan were leaving. Ryan was leaning against a wall, looking annoyed, looking sad maybe, Brendon isn’t sure, he can’t remember, the moments of that day are jangled, tumbled together into a mess of pain and anger and sadness. Jon went to Brendon and tugged him into a hug, soft and comfortable and familiar but at the same time its sharp and painful and Brendon wants to cry, Brendon wishes Spencer were here. "We’ll keep in touch," Jon promises. He whispers it right into Brendon’s ear. Brendon nods desperate to believe and he fights back burning tears that want to escape. Jon must feel Brendon’s breath hitch. "Hey, hey, don’t get upset. Its not-it isn’t goodbye. You’ll see me, Brendon, you will." Brendon clings tighter to Jon and he wants to bury his face in Jon’s shoulder but he doesn’t. He closes his eyes and he nods, whatever Jon says he’ll believe, he’ll always believe. Just like he believes they’ll all still be friends and that music was the main reason this is happening. "Maybe someday soon we’ll have a reunion tour," Jon jokes, Brendon doesn’t laugh. Jon cups the back of Brendon’s head and his hand is warm and firm and Brendon remembers the first day he met Jon how easily Jon had sung with him and collected him up in a hug. Brendon wants to ask how he could choose, how he could pick Ryan over him but he doesn’t. Jon’s made his choice and it’s not the one Brendon wants but its Jon’s. Jon pulls back and he smiles at Brendon, warm and loving and Brendon tries, he tries to return it but it crashes and falls to the ground, shatters into heavy sharp pieces. "We’ll see you soon," Jon says as his hands fall away. Jon steps back and Brendon nods. Jon goes to Ryan like it’s where he belongs. Ryan is stiff, Ryan is unamused, Ryan has won. Sometimes Brendon reads the tweets, he watches the videos and even occasionally finds himself a concert review to glance over. He hasn’t talked to Jon since his birthday, an unreplied tweet and a simple text message after midnight, when it was no longer even Jon’s birthday that said 'Thanks. :) .' Brendon had asked. "Are you happy?" and there was a silence and Brendon listened to Spencer out in the backyard with Bogart. Jon had answered a resounding, honest; "Yes."
---
Ryan doesn’t know how to ask for it. He doesn’t know how to say what he needs or work up the courage to go after what he wants. Jon is scanning the house for loose odds and ends that he may have missed. His beat up luggage is resting by the door and there might be a spare hoodie or an old pair of flip-flops tucked under Ryan’s bed. Ryan won’t mention though, it’s like he needs these things, tiny little mementos so he feels like he’s not so alone. Jon comes into Ryan’s room, where Ryan’s been sitting (hiding) from the truth of the matter, that he’ll have to take Jon to the airport in a meager twenty minutes. Sometime later when Ryan’s dropped Jon off at the airport and Jon’s hugged him goodbye and says "See you in a month, Ross. Keep yourself safe ‘til then." And then he’s gone and Ryan stands in the departure area of the airport until he thinks Jon’s plane must leave. Then Ryan goes home and he takes a bottle to bed and contemplates calling Z or Alex or having a party. But instead he finds the hoodie Jon left behind and slides it on, zips it up, drinks from his bottle and grabs his phone. He taps out a text to Jon and stares at the words for what feels like hours, each letter glowing, burning into Ryan’s eyes. He ends up deleting the text just like he ends up finishing the bottle and falling asleep in Jon’s hoodie. It smells like Jon. Ryan briefly regrets not sending the message, two little words that flame through him. 'come home.'
---
"What the fuck are you doing?" Jon shouts. His voice almost gets lost in the blare of horns and hastily thrown swears and middle fingers directed at Ryan. Ryan stops on the sidewalk up off the street he was just darting into, the street filled with heavy L.A. traffic. Ryan is looking at the ground and Jon grabs at his arm, tugs him even further away from the street, obviously not trusting that Ryan wouldn’t try to run out there once again. "Are you going to answer me?" Jon asks impatiently. Ryan shrugs; he knows Jon will be annoyed at the lack of an answer. "What’s going on, Ryan?" Jon tries again. "I don’t know," Ryan whispers. "Don’t know what?" "Anything! Everything! I don’t know what to do with myself. Everyone hates me Jon, hates us! I don’t... it felt different before but this, this is like warfare and I’m the number one target. They want to destroy me, they want me gone, six feet fucking under, Jon! They won’t stop until they bring me down." Jon doesn’t ask who they are, he knows well enough, he reads his twitter. "But for everyone one of them, Ryan, there’s someone who still cares and still wants to see us succeed. You gotta wait it out, man." "It’s easier if they blame me. Let them blame me. It’s my fault, so fucking hate me okay? Come on, Jon! Hate me too, you still have time, you know? You can go back. I won’t even fucking blame you for going. Brendon and Sp- ...they’ll take you back." Jon looks at Ryan like he’s afraid Ryan’s losing it. "I’m not going anywhere," Jon says firmly. Ryan grabs at Jon’s shirt, hauls him close and breathes heavy. "Hurt me," Ryan says softly. Jon slaps Ryan’s hands away and looks like he was the one who got struck instead of Ryan just requesting it. "Ryan-" "No," Ryan grabs Jon again. "Punch me, beat me down, break me. Please, Jon, please." Jon closes his hands around Ryan’s and he squeezes firm, just on the edge of painful. Ryan’s eyes flutter closed. He waits for the strike, for the heavy solid press of Jon’s fist connecting to his jaw but it never comes. Instead he feels hands twine in his hair and Jon jerking him forward, he feels a hot desperate mouth attacking his. It’s the most Ryan will get from Jon, the only way Jon is willing to break Ryan.