May 11, 2007 22:31
Brendon lay on his back in bed, staring into the darkness above him, the back of his palms lying on the pillow beside him, unable to sleep.
What bothered him most was the way Ryan had just lay there, reaching behind him for the novel he had previously discarded and readjusting his position on the couch slightly, an enigmatic smile hovering on his lips. Spencer had stopped banging and starting shouting, “Hey, Ryan, you in there? Why’s the door locked? Have you seen Brendon? What’s that noise?” Inside the small room Brendon had frantically unbuckled the collar around his neck and tried to arrange his expression into something resembling his old self; the self that hadn’t been lapping desperately at Ryan Ross’s boot a few minutes ago.
“Aren’t you going to get let him in?” Ryan’s voice, tinged with amusement.
Brendon had moved to the door, unlocked it and opened it to find Spencer, fist raised about to knock again.
“Hey Spence, s’up?” The casual head bob, the laid back hands-in-back-jean-pockets, the confident eye contact.
“Errr…nice shirt Brendon…what did your laundry not get done or something?”
“What?” Brendon had glanced down at his attire. “Oh…yeah…something like that…Where’s Jon?”
Luckily Spencer had put Brendon’s twitchiness down to one too many Red Bulls or post show highs and had moved straight past him to sit down on the couch next to Ryan and quiz him about the book he appeared to be so engrossed in. Brendon had taken the chance to escape and had headed to his bunk where he had been lying, in turmoil, ever since.
Does Ryan even have the faintest clue what he is doing to me?
There had been no weed this time and still Brendon’s head was more fucked than ever. Being snapped out of his submission so abruptly had not been pleasant and he longed for some contact from Ryan, an acknowledgment of the moment, some fragment of empathy that told him Ryan knew he was slowly destroying Brendon’s reality and it was going to be okay. But no such contact came and Brendon found himself once again falling into a light and troubled sleep.
* * * *
The following day Brendon avoided Ryan as much as possible. He knew he wouldn’t be able to stand another insinuating comment or the feel of that cold gaze reading his mind, and so he stayed in his bunk for the best part of the day, brooding and playing on his DS. Both Jon and Spencer stuck their heads in and tried to encourage him out before the show but Brendon muttered something about a migraine and they left him alone. Ryan did not check in on him and this only made Brendon more determined that this strange relationship they had developed would go no further.
On stage that night Brendon did not approach Ryan for the usual flirtations and remained rigidly at his microphone or at the piano, going through the motions, hoping that he was not disappointing the fans. When Ryan approached him at the curtain call Brendon grabbed a dancer and pulled her into a hug, taking her hand and making certain that she was firmly between him and the last person on earth he wanted to hold hands with. Once the cheers from the crowd had died down Brendon headed into the wings and made directly for the dressing room, ducking under the raised hands that he usually met with an enthusiastic high-five. He was first into the shower where he remained for too long, ignoring the complaints from his sweaty band mates. They would have to use another shower. There were plenty more to choose from.
When his fingers were crinkled and pale and the water ran cold, Brendon finally emerged from the shower, wrapping a towel around his waist. He thought he would be relieved to find the dressing room empty but he just felt empty and a little foolish. He glanced hopefully at the table top, hoping for a fleeting second to see an envelope, adorned with that familiar girlie handwriting, but there were only crumpled tissues, smudged with Ryan’s makeup and carelessly discarded.
Something made him carry his shoes and socks in his hand as he took that familiar trek across the wet grass towards the bus. I want to feel the dew between my toes.
His favourite lavender hoodie was zipped up to the top and pulled over his head and his tight jeans were becoming damp where they trailed along the ground. He found himself walking straight past the bus and doing a circuit of the deserted car park before he felt ready to go inside. He didn’t know what he hoped to find: Ryan or no Ryan, but his stomach fluttered with butterflies as he pulled open the door and climbed on board.
He was greeted immediately by the sight of Ryan sitting on the sofa in the lounge area, his feet up on the low table in the centre of the room and a glass of rosè wine in his hand, the rest of the bottle next to his feet on the table. Ryan looked up as he entered, a concerned expression on his face, the calculating stare gone entirely.
“Hey.” he said, managing a small smile but looking nervous. “You look cold.”
Brendon hadn’t realised it until now but he was shivering inside his thin hoodie, hands shoved deep into the pockets.
“I’m fine.” He made as if he was heading to his bunk but Ryan’s voice stopped him.
“Bren, sit down, for fuck’s sake. I fucking hate this.”
“I’m just…I’m fine. I’m tired, that’s all.”
“Bullshit.” Ryan was never one to mince his words.
Brendon turned to face his friend, determined to give him a casual glance before making his excuses and getting away, back to his bunk. But as soon as he met that anxious expression his resolve left him and he looked down at the floor, his hands twisting and turning inside his pockets.
“Come sit down, Brendon…please…no weird stuff, I promise...just come hang out for a minute.” The sentiment was sincere and Brendon again felt foolish. He approached the sofa and sat down, a gap between their two bodies that seemed to tingle with electricity. Neither of them said anything for a while. Ryan was reluctant to take the lead; wanted Brendon to take back ownership of their friendship. Brendon didn’t know what to say. Ryan’s the one who’s great with the words; can’t he just say something profound that makes this all fucking normal again?
“I’m sorry.” Said Ryan after a time.
Something about the apology made Brendon suddenly sad. “What for?”
“For fucking with you…I thought…I don’t know what I thought…it just…it seemed right at the time, but then…”
“Spencer.”
“Fucking Spencer.” They shared a smile then and Brendon felt himself relax.
More silence. Ryan spoke again. “I never wanted things to get awkward. I didn’t want to make you feel bad or…weird…or dirty…or something.”
“Didn’t you?” Brendon met his gaze, this time as an equal, offering a challenge with his eyes.
“Okay maybe I did a little but…it’s not real Brendon.”
“What?” Brendon felt anger suddenly rise in his chest. “Not real? What the fuck, Ryan? You fucking take me to a place where I’ve never felt so fucking…right…in the whole of my life and then you’re all like ‘it’s not real’’. Are you fucking kidding me?” He hadn’t meant to say it but now that he had he knew that it was true.
“I don’t think I’ve ever heard you say ‘fuck’ so much.”
“I’m going to bed.” Ryan’s joke had only fuelled Brendon’s anger and he felt hurt not to have been taken seriously.
“No, don’t…wait…shit, I’m sorry.” Ryan reached out a hand to Brendon’s shoulder and pressed him back down on to the couch, leaving the hand in place, leaning in closer to his friend. “That was a stupid thing to say, sorry.”
They looked at each other and Brendon felt for a second that he might suddenly cry. He brushed the thought aside and pursed his lips together.
“I didn’t think that you felt like that.” Ryan’s voice was soft and tentative. “I thought you were just…you know…having fun or whatever.”
“Yeah, well. Now you know.” Brendon felt like a sulky child but couldn’t help himself.
“Yes.” Ryan let go of his shoulder and Brendon brought his hands up to his face, trying to rub the confusion from his brow. Still more silence. “Do you want some wine?”
“No…actually, yeah.”
Ryan got up and moved to the kitchen area, finding an empty glass and filling it from the bottle on the table. He sat back down and handed it to Brendon.
“Thanks.”
“Look, Bren, I’m just going to tell you what’s in my head because, well that’s what I do…I have word vomit sometimes…I know it seems like that hasn’t been the case lately, but I haven’t suddenly changed…I’m still the same Ryan.”
Brendon sipped on his wine and raised his eyebrows cynically.
“Don’t make that fucking face, I’m trying to explain.” Ryan’s voice had taken on that serious tone that was impossible to ignore “I’ve been thinking about this for so long Brendon, it’s not like I just woke up one morning and thought, ‘Hey, I know what’ll really mess with Brendon’s head!’ I’ve been thinking about this since before I even knew you. It’s just…it’s a part of me and it’s not a part that I’ve ever acted on but…the way you always flirt with me onstage…and you’re so cute…you make those little faces and it’s like you fucking ask for it Brendon…like you’re daring me to do something…fuck are you just going to let me ramble on like a twat?”
“Pretty much, yeah.”
“Fine. Whatever. I fucking loved it Brendon. I loved the way you looked so adorable in the collar, I loved the way you licked my boot so carefully, I loved the way you said my name when I gave you an order, I loved the way your body trembled when I bound your wrists, I loved…mngggh” Ryan’s outburst was interrupted by Brendon’s wet lips pressing hungrily up against his mouth. Ryan’s hands immediately moved up to gently grasp that beautiful face and cradle the back of Brendon’s neck. He kissed him back eagerly, breathing in hard before letting out a moan and tugging Brendon’s full bottom lip into his mouth. The smaller boy leant back and Ryan pushed forward, rolling his tongue around inside Brendon’s mouth, wanting to taste him, to swallow him. Brendon was moaning in reciprocation now and they grappled with each other. No amount of contact seemed to be enough and they pressed against one another, Ryan biting on Brendon’s bottom lip, forcing squeals of pleasure from his young friend. “Ryyy…” Brendon’s body became limp underneath him and Ryan’s hands naturally moved down to lock with Brendon’s, pinning him forcefully to the couch, the tender moment between them dissolving in a frenzy of passion and desire.
Ryan pulled out of the kiss and continued to hold Brendon down, his face inches away. Brendon’s head bobbed up and down, his lips pushing forward to try and taste Ryan again.
“Please…” moaned Brendon, that same submissive tone now back in his voice, his eyes half closed, hungry with desire.
“Tell me you fucking want it Brendon because I am not going through this again.”
“I want it. I want it.”
“And it won’t be weird tomorrow.”
“No, I promise, I’ll be normal…I’ll be good.”
“And you’ll know what you are to me and how much I want you, no matter what.”
“Yes, yes…I want you too…I want you like this…” Brendon pushed against the hands that pinned him down and squirmed on the couch.
“Like this and like normal…both.”
“Yes, both…but this…I want this…please kiss me now.”
Ryan did, he couldn’t help himself, Brendon’s eyes had looked at him so honestly, so imploringly and an agreement had been made in silence that both of them could trust in.
They kissed forever, Brendon’s mouth eliciting quiet moans, his lips parted obediently to allow Ryan’s probing tongue to explore every inch of them.
“I’m taking you to bed.” Ryan stated simply, rising from the couch keeping one of Brendon’s hands held firmly in his. “You are going to lie still and quiet and let me hold you until morning, when you will wake up far too early and irritate the hell out of me and everyone else on the bus, are we clear?”
“Yes.”
“Yes what?”
Brendon grinned. “Yes Ryan.”