You Probably Couldn’t See for the Lights But You Were Looking Straight At Me (15/15) FINAL CHAPTER
Title: You Probably Couldn’t See for the Lights But You Were Looking Straight At Me (15/15) FINAL CHAPTER
Author: Sara
Rating: PG
Paring: Ryan/Brendon and Jon/Spencer
POV: 3rd limited (Brendon)
Story Summary: Following the end of WWI Brendon Urie is sent by his parents to Paris to retrieve his brother who never returned home.
Chapter Summary: “The reason that I wake up every morning with a smile on my face has nothing to do with where I am. But it has everything to do with who I’m with.”
Disclaimer: The following is fiction. Meaning not true. I don’t own the Panic boys, only the plot and words. The title belongs to Arctic Monkeys.
Previous Chapters
******
“This is nice,” Jon said. “We should do this more often.” He and Brendon were sitting outside the café at one of the small circular tables. Both brothers were sitting with their chairs pressed up against the walls of the café and were staring out into the street at the people passing by. “We’re so European people watching like this.”
Jon didn’t make an effort to avoid anyone who met his eyes though Brendon tried not to stare at the pedestrians full on. He could remember when only three months earlier he had peeked his head around the corner of the train station, the edge of which he could see from his chair, and avoided the eyes of the café goers who were watching people. Three months earlier when he had no idea what awaited him in Paris. Or who awaited him.
“I’m glad you decided to stay,” Jon said, tilting his head to the side to smile at Brendon as if reading his thoughts.
Brendon grinned over at his brother, eyes squinting in the bright September sunlight, “I’m glad I stayed too.”
“Europe suits you,” Jon nodded. “You seem happier here than at home. Although I could say the same thing about myself. I’m happier here, too. Maybe we were just born to be Parisian.” Jon adapted a breathy voice and tilted his chin up, “We’re just so cultured.”
Brendon shook his head and laughed at Jon’s attempts to be suave, “We both know why we’re happy here. At least I do.” He took a sip of his coffee, contemplating. “It has very little to do with Paris itself. Sure, the buildings are beautiful. There’s history, there’s culture, the city has so much to offer, but the reason that I wake up every morning with a smile on my face has nothing to do with where I am. But it has everything to do with who I’m with.”
Jon’s eyes sparkled with amusement, “Bren, you’re such a romantic now!”
Brendon blushed, “Shut up, like you’re not? I’ve seen you bring Spencer flowers. On more than one occasion.”
“Of course I’m a romantic, but I’ve never tried to deny that I am. I love Spencer and he’s why I’m here.” Jon smirked, “I guess you and I are more alike than anyone ever thought.” Jon took a sip of his drink which Brendon made himself, “You make a mean coffee, Brendon.”
“That’s why they hired me,” Brendon shrugged though he knew that his coffee making skills had little to do with his actual employment.
Jon nodded and downed the rest of his coffee. “Have you heard anything from Mom and Dad lately?” Brendon frowned into his cup and Jon went on, “I was just wondering if Mary talked to them. You know, if they knew about you and Ryan.” He scratched the top of his head and laughed, “I can’t imagine what Dad would say if he found out he had two gay sons, though I would love to see his face.”
“I got a letter from Mom a couple weeks ago after I wrote them telling them I was staying in Paris. It was just her telling me I should come home. And bring you with me, of course.” Brendon shrugged his shoulders and picked up his napkin to tear at the edges. He rolled the tiny pieces of paper into small balls. “I didn’t write back and haven’t heard from them since. I don’t know if Mary talked to them or not.”
“Doesn’t that bother you?” Jon asked and he brought his thumbs together to form a field goal and closed his eyes as Brendon flicked a wad of paper through his fingers. The ball bounced off Jon’s face and he absent-mindedly itched where it had hit as Brendon pumped his fists victoriously over his head. “Doesn’t it bother you not knowing if they know?”
“I haven’t really given it much thought,” Brendon said, lining up another target. He closed one eye to aim and flicked it through Jon’s fingers again. “I guess I figured that if Mary told them then I’d hear from them. And if she didn’t then I don’t have anything to worry about.”
Jon frowned and pulled the napkin away from Brendon. “I can’t trust you with this anymore,” he admonished playfully but then Brendon saw Jon set in his ‘serious face.’ “Brendon, don’t you want Mom and Dad to know that you’re happy? I didn’t have to tell Mom and Dad about Spencer. I could have just lied and said that something else was keeping me here. A job, hell, even a girl, but I wanted them to know that I was happy. I wanted them to know why I was happy and that I wasn’t ashamed of my choices.”
“I’m not ashamed,” Brendon said, eyes furrowing as if he were angry with Jon for implying that he was. “I’m finally happy with my life.”
“Have you and Ryan talked about maybe telling Mom and Dad?” Jon’s voice was casual but had a slight undertone that made Brendon wonder if maybe this topic wasn’t new to him. “I think Ryan would like it if you did.”
Brendon sighed, “Ryan knows that I’m serious about us. Telling Mom and Dad wouldn’t make a difference in our relationship.”
“Maybe it wouldn’t make a difference for you, but I think that it would to Ryan. Sometimes people need a big gesture.”
“I don’t know,” Brendon said.
“Just think about it,” Jon said as he tore a strip of paper off the napkin to roll into a ball. “And hold your fingers up, it’s my turn,” he instructed as he lined up his shot and flicked the ball into the goal.
******
“If I recall correctly, you claimed that you hated the Eiffel Tower,” Brendon said teasingly as Ryan and he walked towards the park. “Something about it being a perfect suicide place.”
Ryan laughed, “I came along with you all when you went that one time a couple of months ago though, didn’t I?”
“That’s only because you had a crush on me and wanted to be close to me,” Brendon grinned.
“You’re insatiable,” Ryan said though he didn’t argue.
Brendon laced his fingers through Ryan’s and brought their hands up to his mouth. He kissed Ryan’s knuckle before swinging their intertwined hands back down to their sides. “Maybe so,” he agreed, “but you love me.”
“I do,” Ryan assured and leaned over to quickly kiss Brendon.
Brendon smiled, appeased, “This is kind of like last time.” Ryan raised his eyebrow and Brendon squeezed his hand. “Last time we went to the Eiffel Tower Jon made me close my eyes and you led me. Don’t you remember?”
“Of course I do.”
“You know,” Brendon said casually, “the first time I realized I liked you was when we were at the Eiffel Tower. We were standing up there,” Brendon pointed with his free hand to the top of the tower, clearly visible from where they were and growing closer with every step, “and we were looking down. I saw two people down below who leaned so close together that I thought they were one. You were standing right next to me,” Brendon smiled at Ryan, “and I remember thinking that being that close to someone didn’t seem like such a bad idea. It didn’t seem so scary anymore to want to be close to someone. And I remember realizing that I wanted that someone to be you.”
They had reached the base of the monument and Ryan stopped their walking, holding Brendon’s hand firmly to keep him in place. “That’s when you knew?” he asked. Brendon nodded and Ryan smiled, “That was almost beautiful, Bren.”
Brendon laughed, “I have a way with words.” Ryan nodded and kissed him, lips lingering, before pulling Brendon into a hug. Brendon curved around Ryan’s neck and breathed in the sent of his hair. “When did you know?” he asked.
Pressed up against him, Brendon could feel Ryan’s breath with every word and he shuddered. “I was drawn to you almost immediately, but I thought it was just a physical thing at first.”
Brendon shook his head against Ryan’s shoulder, “Not that, when did you know it was more than just lust? ‘Cause the first time I saw you I definitely felt something, but that wasn’t when I knew.”
Ryan pulled them out of the hug but reclaimed Brendon’s hand with his own again. His cinnamon eyes met Brendon’s and he smiled a small little smile, almost as if it were a secret. “The first time I heard you play the piano,” he said softly but surely. “That’s when I knew. It was the first time I felt truly happy in a long time and I knew it was because of you.”
Brendon reached up and tucked some of Ryan’s flyaway bangs behind his ear and let his hand run down Ryan’s jaw line to run across his bottom lip. “I love you so much, Ryan.”
Ryan nodded and pulled Brendon’s thumb from his lips and brought him close for a tender kiss. “I love you, too.”
“So why did you decide that we needed to come to the Eiffel Tower?” Brendon asked, leaning up and taking in the large iron monument.
Ryan shrugged, “It felt like it was time,” he said and he began to pull Brendon into a walk again.
Ryan led Brendon under the Tower and over to the one leg before stopping dead. Brendon looked at Ryan curiously, “The elevator?” he asked. “Are you sure?” The last time they were at the Eiffel Tower Ryan had insisted on the stairs. Brendon knew that Ryan had a mistrust of technology, mostly due to all that he had seen in the war, and wanted to make sure that Ryan was positive he wanted to do this. “It’s ok if you want to take the stairs,” Brendon said. “Unless you’re sure you want to ride the elevator.”
Ryan nodded though his grip on Brendon’s hand tightened slightly, “I’m ready,” he said. “I trust you.”
Brendon smiled supportively but couldn’t help a small laugh in response to the sharp yelp that escaped from Ryan as the elevator binged as it came to rest on the ground floor. Ryan gave a shaky smile and pulled Brendon into the elevator as soon as the door opened determinedly.
Ryan held his hand tightly as the doors closed and the elevator operator looked pointedly down at their intertwined hands. “It’s his first time on an elevator,” Brendon explained. The elevator began to move and Ryan’s shoulders tightened at the jerk.
The elevator operator nodded, smiling now that the situation was explained. “You’re a good friend,” he said.
Brendon shook his head and kissed the side of Ryan’s head, watching as his shoulders relaxed, “No, I’m a good boyfriend.” He grinned as the man’s face fell.
****
Only about a week passed after Brendon and Ryan became a couple before Brendon officially moved into Ryan’s room. He had been sleeping there every night anyways and it seemed foolish to go back to a separate room every morning to get dressed. Though Ryan’s room had once been cluttered with crumpled paper and the room was darkened with thick, heavy curtains that were always tightly pulled shut, it had transformed in a few short weeks.
Ryan and Brendon were sitting on the large neatly made bed, something that Ryan now did every morning after Brendon rolled out, usually catching the sheet with him as he hit the floor. The blinds were pulled open and bright afternoon sunlight was flooding into the room. The floor was clean and the nightstand was uncluttered.
Music resonated through the air. Ryan sat on his bed, knees curled up with his guitar lying in his lap, and he strummed happy chords. “Sing a song for me,” Ryan pouted, his long fingers stretching out across the guitar strings. “It’s not the same without your voice,” he complained.
Brendon shushed him and held out a finger, “Just give me a minute,” he said. He was sitting next to Ryan on the bed. Brendon was also sitting up straight, back to the bed post, but instead of a guitar lying across his lap Brendon had a piece of paper resting on top of a book and a pen in hand. He was writing steadily.
“What are you doing?” Ryan asked as his fingers plucked out whichever notes they fell on - he really wasn’t paying that much attention.
The scribbling of Brendon’s pen continued. “I’m writing a letter,” he answered.
“To whom?” Ryan asked, his curiosity perked.
“To my parents,” Brendon said, careful to keep the smile off his face as he saw Ryan’s face light up from the corner of his eye.
“Hmmm,” Ryan commented. “What are you telling them?”
Brendon grinned as he finished the letter. “You can read it if you would like,” he said.
“Are you sure?” Ryan asked. “I don’t have to.”
Brendon shook his head, “No, read it. I want you to.”
Ryan smiled and Brendon watched as his eyes swooped down to devour the contents of the letter. Brendon could remember every line he wrote, every word. They had been bouncing around in his head for so long, screaming to come out.
He wanted to make his parents understand. Brendon wanted them to know that he was okay and he was happy.
Mom and Dad -
I don’t know if you have talked to Mary or not. If you didn’t know, she visited me here in Paris a couple of weeks ago. If you’ve talked to her then you know that we broke up because we no longer wanted the same things. The truth is that I’ve changed while I’ve been here. And I’m happy with who I am. I know I was sent here to find Jon, but instead I ended up finding myself. I found myself and I found love. His name is Ryan.
I know this probably seems like déjà vu, but I can’t help what I feel and I won’t apologize for it. Hopefully one day you both will come to accept Jon and me and our choices. You’re always welcome in Paris. I’d love for you to meet him.
Brendon
Brendon watched as Ryan’s eyes glided across the page and he watched a small smiled tug at the corners of his mouth. Ryan finished the letter and smiled up at Brendon, his eyes shining. “That was perfect,” Ryan said and he kissed Brendon, “just perfect.”
Brendon smiled and put the letter on the nightstand to mail out later and Ryan set the guitar up in his lap and began to strum a song absentmindedly. Brendon scooted over on the mattress and rested his head on Ryan’s shoulder. He began to hum lowly in Ryan’s ear and grinned as the older boy shivered visibly. Brendon kissed Ryan’s neck and began to sing, snuggling in closer as Ryan’s voice wrapped around his own, making his stronger.
Check out my other stories!
*****
A/N: Well, it’s finished! I hope that everyone liked it! Please take a second to comment, I would really appreciate it! Also, if you’re in the mood to see some kick ass photography you should check out my friend Caroline’s livejournal
0bamboo_shoots0. Comments make her happy too. And finally, an enormous thank you to everyone who cheered me on through this whole thing. All the comments really helped me along! Till next time!
Author: Sara
Rating: PG
Paring: Ryan/Brendon and Jon/Spencer
POV: 3rd limited (Brendon)
Story Summary: Following the end of WWI Brendon Urie is sent by his parents to Paris to retrieve his brother who never returned home.
Chapter Summary: “The reason that I wake up every morning with a smile on my face has nothing to do with where I am. But it has everything to do with who I’m with.”
Disclaimer: The following is fiction. Meaning not true. I don’t own the Panic boys, only the plot and words. The title belongs to Arctic Monkeys.
Previous Chapters
******
“This is nice,” Jon said. “We should do this more often.” He and Brendon were sitting outside the café at one of the small circular tables. Both brothers were sitting with their chairs pressed up against the walls of the café and were staring out into the street at the people passing by. “We’re so European people watching like this.”
Jon didn’t make an effort to avoid anyone who met his eyes though Brendon tried not to stare at the pedestrians full on. He could remember when only three months earlier he had peeked his head around the corner of the train station, the edge of which he could see from his chair, and avoided the eyes of the café goers who were watching people. Three months earlier when he had no idea what awaited him in Paris. Or who awaited him.
“I’m glad you decided to stay,” Jon said, tilting his head to the side to smile at Brendon as if reading his thoughts.
Brendon grinned over at his brother, eyes squinting in the bright September sunlight, “I’m glad I stayed too.”
“Europe suits you,” Jon nodded. “You seem happier here than at home. Although I could say the same thing about myself. I’m happier here, too. Maybe we were just born to be Parisian.” Jon adapted a breathy voice and tilted his chin up, “We’re just so cultured.”
Brendon shook his head and laughed at Jon’s attempts to be suave, “We both know why we’re happy here. At least I do.” He took a sip of his coffee, contemplating. “It has very little to do with Paris itself. Sure, the buildings are beautiful. There’s history, there’s culture, the city has so much to offer, but the reason that I wake up every morning with a smile on my face has nothing to do with where I am. But it has everything to do with who I’m with.”
Jon’s eyes sparkled with amusement, “Bren, you’re such a romantic now!”
Brendon blushed, “Shut up, like you’re not? I’ve seen you bring Spencer flowers. On more than one occasion.”
“Of course I’m a romantic, but I’ve never tried to deny that I am. I love Spencer and he’s why I’m here.” Jon smirked, “I guess you and I are more alike than anyone ever thought.” Jon took a sip of his drink which Brendon made himself, “You make a mean coffee, Brendon.”
“That’s why they hired me,” Brendon shrugged though he knew that his coffee making skills had little to do with his actual employment.
Jon nodded and downed the rest of his coffee. “Have you heard anything from Mom and Dad lately?” Brendon frowned into his cup and Jon went on, “I was just wondering if Mary talked to them. You know, if they knew about you and Ryan.” He scratched the top of his head and laughed, “I can’t imagine what Dad would say if he found out he had two gay sons, though I would love to see his face.”
“I got a letter from Mom a couple weeks ago after I wrote them telling them I was staying in Paris. It was just her telling me I should come home. And bring you with me, of course.” Brendon shrugged his shoulders and picked up his napkin to tear at the edges. He rolled the tiny pieces of paper into small balls. “I didn’t write back and haven’t heard from them since. I don’t know if Mary talked to them or not.”
“Doesn’t that bother you?” Jon asked and he brought his thumbs together to form a field goal and closed his eyes as Brendon flicked a wad of paper through his fingers. The ball bounced off Jon’s face and he absent-mindedly itched where it had hit as Brendon pumped his fists victoriously over his head. “Doesn’t it bother you not knowing if they know?”
“I haven’t really given it much thought,” Brendon said, lining up another target. He closed one eye to aim and flicked it through Jon’s fingers again. “I guess I figured that if Mary told them then I’d hear from them. And if she didn’t then I don’t have anything to worry about.”
Jon frowned and pulled the napkin away from Brendon. “I can’t trust you with this anymore,” he admonished playfully but then Brendon saw Jon set in his ‘serious face.’ “Brendon, don’t you want Mom and Dad to know that you’re happy? I didn’t have to tell Mom and Dad about Spencer. I could have just lied and said that something else was keeping me here. A job, hell, even a girl, but I wanted them to know that I was happy. I wanted them to know why I was happy and that I wasn’t ashamed of my choices.”
“I’m not ashamed,” Brendon said, eyes furrowing as if he were angry with Jon for implying that he was. “I’m finally happy with my life.”
“Have you and Ryan talked about maybe telling Mom and Dad?” Jon’s voice was casual but had a slight undertone that made Brendon wonder if maybe this topic wasn’t new to him. “I think Ryan would like it if you did.”
Brendon sighed, “Ryan knows that I’m serious about us. Telling Mom and Dad wouldn’t make a difference in our relationship.”
“Maybe it wouldn’t make a difference for you, but I think that it would to Ryan. Sometimes people need a big gesture.”
“I don’t know,” Brendon said.
“Just think about it,” Jon said as he tore a strip of paper off the napkin to roll into a ball. “And hold your fingers up, it’s my turn,” he instructed as he lined up his shot and flicked the ball into the goal.
******
“If I recall correctly, you claimed that you hated the Eiffel Tower,” Brendon said teasingly as Ryan and he walked towards the park. “Something about it being a perfect suicide place.”
Ryan laughed, “I came along with you all when you went that one time a couple of months ago though, didn’t I?”
“That’s only because you had a crush on me and wanted to be close to me,” Brendon grinned.
“You’re insatiable,” Ryan said though he didn’t argue.
Brendon laced his fingers through Ryan’s and brought their hands up to his mouth. He kissed Ryan’s knuckle before swinging their intertwined hands back down to their sides. “Maybe so,” he agreed, “but you love me.”
“I do,” Ryan assured and leaned over to quickly kiss Brendon.
Brendon smiled, appeased, “This is kind of like last time.” Ryan raised his eyebrow and Brendon squeezed his hand. “Last time we went to the Eiffel Tower Jon made me close my eyes and you led me. Don’t you remember?”
“Of course I do.”
“You know,” Brendon said casually, “the first time I realized I liked you was when we were at the Eiffel Tower. We were standing up there,” Brendon pointed with his free hand to the top of the tower, clearly visible from where they were and growing closer with every step, “and we were looking down. I saw two people down below who leaned so close together that I thought they were one. You were standing right next to me,” Brendon smiled at Ryan, “and I remember thinking that being that close to someone didn’t seem like such a bad idea. It didn’t seem so scary anymore to want to be close to someone. And I remember realizing that I wanted that someone to be you.”
They had reached the base of the monument and Ryan stopped their walking, holding Brendon’s hand firmly to keep him in place. “That’s when you knew?” he asked. Brendon nodded and Ryan smiled, “That was almost beautiful, Bren.”
Brendon laughed, “I have a way with words.” Ryan nodded and kissed him, lips lingering, before pulling Brendon into a hug. Brendon curved around Ryan’s neck and breathed in the sent of his hair. “When did you know?” he asked.
Pressed up against him, Brendon could feel Ryan’s breath with every word and he shuddered. “I was drawn to you almost immediately, but I thought it was just a physical thing at first.”
Brendon shook his head against Ryan’s shoulder, “Not that, when did you know it was more than just lust? ‘Cause the first time I saw you I definitely felt something, but that wasn’t when I knew.”
Ryan pulled them out of the hug but reclaimed Brendon’s hand with his own again. His cinnamon eyes met Brendon’s and he smiled a small little smile, almost as if it were a secret. “The first time I heard you play the piano,” he said softly but surely. “That’s when I knew. It was the first time I felt truly happy in a long time and I knew it was because of you.”
Brendon reached up and tucked some of Ryan’s flyaway bangs behind his ear and let his hand run down Ryan’s jaw line to run across his bottom lip. “I love you so much, Ryan.”
Ryan nodded and pulled Brendon’s thumb from his lips and brought him close for a tender kiss. “I love you, too.”
“So why did you decide that we needed to come to the Eiffel Tower?” Brendon asked, leaning up and taking in the large iron monument.
Ryan shrugged, “It felt like it was time,” he said and he began to pull Brendon into a walk again.
Ryan led Brendon under the Tower and over to the one leg before stopping dead. Brendon looked at Ryan curiously, “The elevator?” he asked. “Are you sure?” The last time they were at the Eiffel Tower Ryan had insisted on the stairs. Brendon knew that Ryan had a mistrust of technology, mostly due to all that he had seen in the war, and wanted to make sure that Ryan was positive he wanted to do this. “It’s ok if you want to take the stairs,” Brendon said. “Unless you’re sure you want to ride the elevator.”
Ryan nodded though his grip on Brendon’s hand tightened slightly, “I’m ready,” he said. “I trust you.”
Brendon smiled supportively but couldn’t help a small laugh in response to the sharp yelp that escaped from Ryan as the elevator binged as it came to rest on the ground floor. Ryan gave a shaky smile and pulled Brendon into the elevator as soon as the door opened determinedly.
Ryan held his hand tightly as the doors closed and the elevator operator looked pointedly down at their intertwined hands. “It’s his first time on an elevator,” Brendon explained. The elevator began to move and Ryan’s shoulders tightened at the jerk.
The elevator operator nodded, smiling now that the situation was explained. “You’re a good friend,” he said.
Brendon shook his head and kissed the side of Ryan’s head, watching as his shoulders relaxed, “No, I’m a good boyfriend.” He grinned as the man’s face fell.
****
Only about a week passed after Brendon and Ryan became a couple before Brendon officially moved into Ryan’s room. He had been sleeping there every night anyways and it seemed foolish to go back to a separate room every morning to get dressed. Though Ryan’s room had once been cluttered with crumpled paper and the room was darkened with thick, heavy curtains that were always tightly pulled shut, it had transformed in a few short weeks.
Ryan and Brendon were sitting on the large neatly made bed, something that Ryan now did every morning after Brendon rolled out, usually catching the sheet with him as he hit the floor. The blinds were pulled open and bright afternoon sunlight was flooding into the room. The floor was clean and the nightstand was uncluttered.
Music resonated through the air. Ryan sat on his bed, knees curled up with his guitar lying in his lap, and he strummed happy chords. “Sing a song for me,” Ryan pouted, his long fingers stretching out across the guitar strings. “It’s not the same without your voice,” he complained.
Brendon shushed him and held out a finger, “Just give me a minute,” he said. He was sitting next to Ryan on the bed. Brendon was also sitting up straight, back to the bed post, but instead of a guitar lying across his lap Brendon had a piece of paper resting on top of a book and a pen in hand. He was writing steadily.
“What are you doing?” Ryan asked as his fingers plucked out whichever notes they fell on - he really wasn’t paying that much attention.
The scribbling of Brendon’s pen continued. “I’m writing a letter,” he answered.
“To whom?” Ryan asked, his curiosity perked.
“To my parents,” Brendon said, careful to keep the smile off his face as he saw Ryan’s face light up from the corner of his eye.
“Hmmm,” Ryan commented. “What are you telling them?”
Brendon grinned as he finished the letter. “You can read it if you would like,” he said.
“Are you sure?” Ryan asked. “I don’t have to.”
Brendon shook his head, “No, read it. I want you to.”
Ryan smiled and Brendon watched as his eyes swooped down to devour the contents of the letter. Brendon could remember every line he wrote, every word. They had been bouncing around in his head for so long, screaming to come out.
He wanted to make his parents understand. Brendon wanted them to know that he was okay and he was happy.
Mom and Dad -
I don’t know if you have talked to Mary or not. If you didn’t know, she visited me here in Paris a couple of weeks ago. If you’ve talked to her then you know that we broke up because we no longer wanted the same things. The truth is that I’ve changed while I’ve been here. And I’m happy with who I am. I know I was sent here to find Jon, but instead I ended up finding myself. I found myself and I found love. His name is Ryan.
I know this probably seems like déjà vu, but I can’t help what I feel and I won’t apologize for it. Hopefully one day you both will come to accept Jon and me and our choices. You’re always welcome in Paris. I’d love for you to meet him.
Brendon
Brendon watched as Ryan’s eyes glided across the page and he watched a small smiled tug at the corners of his mouth. Ryan finished the letter and smiled up at Brendon, his eyes shining. “That was perfect,” Ryan said and he kissed Brendon, “just perfect.”
Brendon smiled and put the letter on the nightstand to mail out later and Ryan set the guitar up in his lap and began to strum a song absentmindedly. Brendon scooted over on the mattress and rested his head on Ryan’s shoulder. He began to hum lowly in Ryan’s ear and grinned as the older boy shivered visibly. Brendon kissed Ryan’s neck and began to sing, snuggling in closer as Ryan’s voice wrapped around his own, making his stronger.
Check out my other stories!
*****
A/N: Well, it’s finished! I hope that everyone liked it! Please take a second to comment, I would really appreciate it! Also, if you’re in the mood to see some kick ass photography you should check out my friend Caroline’s livejournal
0bamboo_shoots0. Comments make her happy too. And finally, an enormous thank you to everyone who cheered me on through this whole thing. All the comments really helped me along! Till next time!