Chapter Text
Dallon and Breezy were making out on the couch while Ryan sat on the floor, eating a piece of cheese cake, dressed in PJs too big for him because Dallon had nice hips and wide shoulders and Ryan was just scrawny. He literally heard the moment Dallon put his hand up Breezy’s shirt to grab her breast. Ryan just stared at the TV and tried to get more invested in Finding Nemo than he ever had before. He remembered a cheesy line he saw online once— you’re my nemo. If you get lost in the great big ocean, I’ll find you.
Ryan wondered if anyone would try to find him in the ocean.
He doubted it.
. . .
Ryan fell asleep sitting up on the floor.
He woke when there was a knock at the door.
Ryan squinted at the time that was on the DVD player underneath the TV and saw that it was 2 AM. He glanced back and saw that Breezy was topless and sleeping on top of an equally topless Dallon. Neither of them stirred.
Ryan stood on shaky legs and had to hold his pajama pants up. They hung off his hips like loose cloth. He eventually had to let go of the waist band and grimaced as he looked down at his body. The v-shape of his hips wasn’t covered and the pajamas were only being held up by the curve of, well, Ryan’s dick, essentially. The t-shirt Dallon and given him was probably actually Breezy’s and clung to Ryan’s skinny torso and rode up above his hips. Ryan couldn’t tug it down. He felt horribly exposed.
Whoever it was knocked on the door again.
“Coming,” Ryan called out, shuffling to the door. He gave up on trying to pull his pants up his hips. He hoped whoever it was didn’t mind. Ryan pulled the door open and winced at the cold air that hit him, body reacting naturally, gooseflesh rising along his arms.
Pete stared at Ryan’s exposed strip of skin and his hips like he hadn’t seen anything any more foreign. Ryan shuddered against the cold wind. “Pete?” he said, wanting to catch his attention. He wanted to close the door with Pete inside so he wouldn’t be so cold. “Are you okay? W-was Patrick having fun?”
“Uh, hey, Ry,” Pete said, dragging his eyes away from the skin to meet Ryan’s eyes. “You know you’ve got a huge dick, right?” Ryan blushed and shuffled back. Pete followed him inside, shutting the door. He smirked when he saw Breezy and Dallon. “How cute,” he hummed. “Bet they had a lot of fun, right? Why the hell would they do that to you? Didn’t they have you over for movies? Sorry if they scarred you, Ry. They’re more used to being around me and B, we don’t really care what they get up to as long as nothing gets on us.”
Ryan grimaced. “That’s kinda gross. But good, I guess. An open relationship among friends strengths and lengthens the relationship.”
Pete chuckles and shook his head. “You’re so eager to defend us and the lives we lead,” he sighed. “I love that about you, you know. I love how smart you are and I love how good you are at making people who don’t understand, understand. And—”
Pete cut himself off, staring at Ryan’s arm. “I’m sorry,” he whispered in a tremulous tone.
Ryan glanced down and saw the bruise. It was an angry dark color in the streetlamp light and Ryan became aware of how it throbbed. He winced and tried to pull the sleeve down to hide the bruise, but it didn’t work.
“I’m so sorry, Ryan,” he choked out. “Fuck, I-I never, ever meant to hurt you. I can’t believe I…”
Pete trailed of, but not in time for Ryan to miss the pain in his voice. “It’s okay,” Ryan reassured him, reaching out to place a gentle hand on Pete’s shoulder. “I’m okay,” he said. “I’ve had much worse from much more horrible people who actually wanted to hurt me. You didn’t. You didn’t want to hurt me.”
“I didn’t,” Pete agreed, nodding and blinking away tears. “I’m so sorry, Ryan.”
“There’s nothing to forgive,” Ryan hummed, even managing a small smile. “You never meant to hurt me. So I hold nothing against you. It was an accident, pure and simple.”
“It was,” Pete agreed again, nodding even more. “An accident. I’ll never do it again.”
“Okay,” Ryan said softly. “Why don’t you take me home? I’m worried about Brendon.”
“Fuck, Brendon,” Pete groaned. “I kicked fucking sand at him, I almost clocked him, jesus. I just, he was kissing you and I saw red, you know? Brendon, he’s not, like, together. He doesn’t know what he wants yet. Well, no, that’s not true. He knows what he wants. I’m just worried that he doesn’t know how to keep it. He’s only ever been with Sarah. That’s it.”
Ryan frowned. “What does he want?”
Pete looked at Ryan like he should already know. “I don’t have the right to say,” he mumbled. “Come on. I’ll wake Breezy and Dallon up while you get dressed again. You don’t want to go outside dressed as scarcely as that, right?” He grinned and walked past Ryan to the couch. “I’ll take you home.”
. . .
Ryan went straight to Pete’s bed, dropping onto the mattress, intending to sleep. Then Patrick came in from the bathroom, only a towel around his waist.
“Uh, Ross?”
Ryan looked up, then groaned. “Why is everyone having sex?”
Patrick blushed and narrowed his eyes before grabbing his clothes and heading back to the bathroom. Ryan winced when the door slammed shut.
Pete came in, looking around the room with wide eyes, searching.
“He’s in the bathroom,” Ryan groaned. “I made him mad. Sorry. I-I didn’t know he was here.”
“My fault,” Pete said. “Should’ve warned you.”
“You slept with him?” Ryan asked. “Thought you were gonna wait.”
Pete blushed and sat at the edge of the bed. “I, uh. I didn’t initiate.”
Ryan grinned a bit. “Pete Wentz, the wooer being wooed. That’s cute.”
Pete rolled his eyes and smacked Ryan’s foot, hiding his grin. “I’m gonna ask him to, like, be my boyfriend. With a cake. Do you think he likes cake? I’m sure everyone likes cake, right? I mean, who doesn’t like cake.”
Ryan shrugged. “I’m sure he likes cake. But what about roses? Rose petals?”
Pete frowned, flopping onto the bed beside Ryan, thinking.
“Or you could, you know, just ask him,” Ryan suggested.
“Does that work?” Pete asked.
Ryan shrugged again. “Why wouldn’t it?”
“I’ve never actually tried that before,” Pete murmured.
Patrick came out of the bathroom dressed in blue jeans and a Michael Jackson shirt.
“Hey, Pat,” Pete said. “Wanna be my boyfriend?”
Patrick arched a brow. “Sure.”
Pete sat up. “Really?”
“Yeah,” Patrick said. “You’re a cool guy. You have good taste in music. And you’re not the idiot some people say you are.”
Pete grinned wide. “I have a prodigy boyfriend with an amazing personality and a smoking hot body! I’m the fucking luckiest guy in the fucking world and no one can take this from me! Fucking no one! Cause my boyfriend is this best!”
Ryan giggled when he saw Patrick was blushing past the annoyed expression that was so obviously fake.
“I’m gonna head home, Pete,” Patrick sighed. “I have a choral literature course early Monday morning and I kinda need need to be not so fucking hungover for it.”
Pete pulled on a massive pout. “Can’t you do that here?”
Patrick shrugged. “Do you have a humidifier and tub? And cucumber sandwiches?”
“I can if it means you’ll stay,” Pete said eagerly.
Patrick sighed and nodded. “I’ll just grab shit from my place and come back. Is that okay?”
“Can I come with?” Pete asked, bouncing onto his feet.
“You sure you wanna leave Ryan alone with Brendon after last night?”
Pete’s expression shuttered closed. “Fuck.”
“I-I’m fine,” Ryan said quickly. “Pete can go, it’ll be okay. I mean, it’s not like Brendon did anything bad to begin with.”
“Making you kiss him is pretty bad,” Pete said, sounding oddly cold.
Ryan whimpered. “I-I told you I wanted it…”
“You don’t know what you want,” Pete snapped. Then his face fell and he hung his head in his hands. “Fuck, I’m sorry, Ryan. I don’t know why I said that. I was wrong, fucking wrong. You do whatever you want, jesus fuck. I’m awful.”
Ryan winced and put a hand on Pete’s front. “It’s okay,” he said. “Sorry.”
“Don’t apologize for me being a dick,” Pete groaned. He reached out and tousled Ryan’s hair in a fond gesture. “Do what you want with Brendon. I know he’ll think twice before actually trying something that he knows he shouldn’t. I’m sure he didn’t mean to do that to you last night. Fuck, I was probably overreacting anyways. It was only a kiss, right? It was only a kiss.”
Ryan blushed and shrugged.
“Did you like it?” Pete asked. “That’s the only way I can feel good about this.”
“I-I liked it,” Ryan confessed shakily.
Pete nodded. “Then I wish you the best. Don’t let him make you do anything you don’t want. Cause that’s not love and that’s not right.”
Ryan smiled a bit and nodded. “I trust him.”
Pete nodded. “I’ll just go with Pattycakes real quick, maybe make out on his bed. Have awesome sex in the shower, the living room, the car, yeah, awesome sex everywhere, you know? Cause Patrick is fucking sex on legs and I cannot be expected to keep my hands off of him.”
Patrick rolled his eyes again and Ryan giggled.
“I’ll be back soon, RyRo,” Pete said, ducking his head to kiss Ryan’s cheek before was out of the bedroom and out the door with Patrick close behind.
Ryan just lied back on the bed and fell asleep.
. . .
Ryan woke up when Brendon gently shook him awake. Ryan shot up, looking to Brendon with wide eyes, excited. He was ready to tell Brendon everything, he was ready to maybe try and create something with Brendon, his first real something in years. He was so excited to tell Brendon that he wanted him.
Brendon’s expression was tight and his eyes were dull.
Ryan’s immediately wilted, sitting back on the bed.
“I’m moving out,” Brendon said in a gruff voice, leaving no room for argument. “Tell Pete when he gets back.”
Then Brendon turned around and left the room.
Ryan watched him go and forgot how to breathe.
. . .
“Ryan?” Pete called out as Ryan heard him enter the completely dark and silent apartment. “Hey, you in here?”
Ryan sat on the couch, staring out the window. He didn’t have the heart to respond.
“Ryan?” Pete said as he turned on the lights. “Why are you sitting there? Where’s Brendon?”
“Brendon moved out,” Ryan whimpered.
Pete rounded the couch and sat on the floor in front of Ryan. He didn’t speak for a moment. “… Did he move out before or after you told him you like him?”
“I didn’t get to tell him.”
Pete sighed and nodded. “Did he say why he was leaving?”
Ryan shook his head, arms around his body as he hugged himself.
“It wasn’t cause of you, Ry,” Pete murmured. “It couldn’t have been.”
“It could’ve,” he whimpered.
“No, it couldn’t have,” Pete denied firmly. “Brendon’s not that type of guy, Ryan. He wouldn’t do that. He wouldn’t leave here because he dislikes someone. Brendon would rather fight them tooth and nail and be there to annoy the shit out of that person. A-and I don’t think he left because of what he did. Maybe, maybe he just needs to move on. From Sarah.”
“And he has to leave a f-friend behind to do so?” Ryan shook his head, staring at his hands. “Brendon’s not that type of person. I know that much. He never showed signs of ready abandonment of people in his life.”
Pete winced. “Uh, yeah, fuck. Forgot you were so good with people.” He sighed and ducked his head. “Look, I’ll talk to him, okay? I’ll try and knock some sense into him. Sometimes, Brendon makes one wrong move and then acts like he’s a poison and has to be a martyr to save others from his mistakes. It’s fucking dumb and really annoying, and it’s just something we have to deal with when it comes to Brendon.”
“Not deal with,” Ryan mumbled. “That makes it sound like you resent him for those qualities. You don’t resent him, do you?”
Pete smiled sadly and shook his head. “Brendon’s my best friend,” he said. “I could never resent him. I just sometimes wish he wasn’t so selfishly self-destructive. He does these pointless things that just hurt everyone around him in this weird desire to save us from him.”
Ryan matched the sad smile. “It’s common among persons with an inability to understand their worth among their friends,” he sighed. “I mean, he knows you guys like him, but he thinks he can just as easily drive you away with his less-desirable traits. He thinks you affection for him only extends as far as his worth that he’s earned for himself with acting on favors and repaying metaphysical debts.”
“Yeah,” he breathed, leaning his head against the cushions of the sofa. “I’m gonna call Dallon over. Maybe he can make us feel better.”
Ryan grimaced. “Doubtful,” he muttered.
“I’m sorry, Ry,” Pete whimpered. “You don’t deserve this. Jesus, you barely even know how to want someone, you know? You’ve only ever been cheated on. Been such a recluse, no offense. And just, you finally feel something for someone else and they turn their back because the’ve got delusions of grandeur and shit.”
Ryan shrugged. “I kinda just want him to be happy.”
“He’d be fucking overjoyed if he were with you,” Pete sighed. “Look, we’ll talk some sense into him. This is just a dumb and impulsive decision. It happens.”
“If you say so,” Ryan murmured, curling up into an even smaller ball on the couch. He felt something touch the back of his head, so he looked up and saw a cupcake held in front of him, over his shoulder. Ryan craned his neck and saw Patrick wearing a tight expression, like he was embarrassed.
“Patrick likes to bake at two in the morning when he can’t sleep,” Pete said with a wide grin. “He’s really good at it.”
Ryan took the cupcake with a tiny smile, holding it delicately in his hands. It was a vanilla cupcake with blue frosting and Ryan kinda really like it and what the gesture could mean. His hands were trembling so it was kinda hard to focus on the extreme details, but Ryan knew it was pretty and he liked vanilla, so this was pretty awesome. He also assumed Patrick found it hard to be friendly, so he gladly accepted the cupcake with the most genuine smile he could muster and a word of thanks.
“Don’t mention it,” Patrick mumbled, looking away with a faint flush to his cheeks from embarrassment.
Pete giggled and bounced to his feet, rounding the couch. Ryan heard the wet sound of a kiss and couldn’t stop himself from turing around and looking. He’d only known Pete to be loose and free and down for anything with anyone. Now he was with one boy with this crinkle to his eyes when he smiled and Ryan just wondered if Pete had been so ready for anyone because he was desperately looking for that single someone.
Ryan liked to think, even if it was too early to hope, that was Patrick was that someone.
“Dallon actually won’t be over,” Pete said, and Ryan realized that he’d spaced out rather badly. He hoped he hadn’t been staring at Pete and Patrick kissing. That could be awkward. “He’s gonna talk to Brendon for me. Just as well, really, cause my temper is shit. I’d probably end up punching him in the dick.”
Ryan giggled a bit, settling into the couch with a little more comfort after Pete’s brazen humor and the cupcake. He nibbled at the edge, then realized it tasted fucking amazing, and began to eat it with a weird hunger he couldn’t explain, even if he actually could. He didn’t get the extra money to buy sweets all that often. This pastry was a delicacy and he was going to savor the fuck out of it, dipping his tongue into the icing with a pleased moan.
Pete snickered and nudged Ryan’s head form behind the couch. “What did I tell you about that sexy moan? You could end wars and start religions, sounding like that, Ross. Symphonies shall be written for you and that moan. Symphonies and pornos.”
Ryan blushed and shrugged. “It’s not that good.”
“I think it is,” Pete pouted. “I’ll bet Patrick does, too. Patrick, doesn’t Ryan have a sexy moan?”
Ryan couldn’t see Patrick. He just heard Pete scoff.
“Patrick’s just got super high standards because he’s heard me, Ry,” Pete said. “You’re sexy.”
Ryan just shrugged and kept eating the last of the cupcake, disappointed when it was gone.
Patrick set down a tinfoil plate in Ryan’s lap. Ryan pulled back the tinfoil to see six more, pristine cupcakes. They had writing across their tops, reading, “thanks for letting us have sex in the bed you sleep in,” written in tiny, meticulous lettering.
“Pete told me what to write,” Patrick said.
“I can tell,” Ryan giggled. “Pete’s got a way with words.”
“You have no idea,” Patrick sighed.
“C’mon, Ryan!” Pete cried out. “Come to the bed so we can cuddle the fuck out of you and have a Quentin Tarantino marathon!”
“Who?” Ryan asked.
Pete just wailed at the ceiling before going to Ryan and struggling to pick Ryan up, grunting with the effort and then succeeding, carrying Ryan to the bedroom. He deposited Ryan onto the bed and started pulling the blankets over Ryan, then going back for Patrick and dragging him into the bedroom.
“We’re gonna educate the shit out of Ryan,” Pete gushed, grabbing the Playstation controller he had for the TV in his room that was on the wifi. “He doesn’t know Tarantino, such a travesty! Please, just tell me you have, at the very least, seen Pulp Fiction.”
Ryan winced and shrugged.
“Oh my god,” Pete groaned. “Okay. Be ready to stay up way past your bedtime, babies. We gotta right some cinematographic wrongs.”
“I feel sorry for you, Ryan,” Patrick deadpanned. Ryan giggled and shrugged again, happily eating his third cupcake. He didn’t mind watching movies with someone he considered his best friend. And the pastries were a huge plus, he had a secret sweet-tooth.
“I don’t mind,” Ryan said softly with a smile. “Makes me feel like I belong.”
An expression came over Patrick’s face that Ryan, nor Pete, probably, could name.
“Pete tells me that you belong,” Patrick finally said.
Pete grinned and winked at Ryan. “He’s right,” he hummed. “RyRo belongs with his PeterPanda and Pattycakes.”
“I’m included in this now?” Patrick asked.
“You’ve always been,” Pete said. “I just didn’t know it yet.”
Patrick blushed and Ryan giggled again. Pete pulled on some movie with an eighties opening decoration and loud music, jumped onto the bed to nestle between Patrick and Ryan, and threw a pillow at the light switch to turn it off.
Almost three hours later, Ryan swore on the movie that Patrick moaned so much better than he did, especially when Pete was in charge. Ryan also swore there had to be a god, because Pete didn’t do more than kiss Patrick in front of him while Ryan threw cupcake crumbs at them both, giggling with Pete and having the most fun he’d had in a long time.
. . .
“Dallon’s here!” Pete announced late the next morning with pancake mix dripping off his nose and Patrick’s glasses smeared to hell with the same mix. Pete only knew Dallon was here because Dallon had come in through the front door and announced he was home in a deep, low voice that sounded so ridiculous that Ryan broke into a giggle fit.
“Hey, kiddos,” Dallon said as he came into view of the whole kitchen. He stopped when he saw the pancake mix in Pete’s hair and on his face and the way Patrick was trying to clean his glasses with the fourth rag he’d found, grumbling unhappily to himself.
“You guys are the messiest eaters,” Dallon groaned. “Really, I mean, first graders are cleaner than you. I’ll bet if they were having sex, they’d be cleaner and safer than you.”
“Did you really just mention first graders having sex?” Pete asked with a brow raised, though Ryan could barely see it through the mess on his face. “I can totally fuck you over with that. I can have, like, eight different charges put on you. Not actually, and I wouldn’t do it anyways cause I know you don’t mean it, but hey. I learned something at university, how awesome is that? I’m over a hundred thousand dollars in debt to learn something I could’ve googled.”
Dallon rolled his eyes. “You dug the grave,” he reminded him. “Have fun lying in it. I’ve got my lady and that’s all I need. Who’s your lady?”
“Patrick’s my lady,” Pete said.
Patrick frowned.
“No, Pete’s the lady,” Pete corrected. “Patrick is the man. The greatest man. Huge cock.”
Patrick snorted. Dallon cackled and scooped his fingers into what was left of their pancake mix, the wiped it on Pete’s neck. Pete shrieked and swatted at Dallon gracelessly, laughing. Then he picked the bowl up, scraped up as much as he could, and threw it at Dallon. He missed and hit Ryan square in the face.
Everyone went deathly silent as Ryan sputtered and just sat their uselessly, blinded. “It stings,” he whimpered pathetically.
Dallon started giggling and Ryan felt an arm go under his own. He could tell by the height that it was Dallon and wasn’t afraid to lean on him to help him move while Dallon walked him somewhere. Harsh light grew and then there was the sound of the sink, then a washcloth at his eyes. Ryan blinked one eye open and recognized the bathroom.
“Thanks,” he mumbled, pouting a bit. “I-I didn’t expect to have raw pancake thrown at me this morning.”
Dallon hummed as he cleaned up the rest of his face. “I’m supposed to bring you to Brendon.”
Ryan tensed.
“It’ll be okay,” Dallon promised. “He’s, he’s seeing things a bit more clearly.”
“Is he coming home?” Ryan whimpered.
Dallon pursed his lips. “… I don’t think he’ll have to.”
“What does that mean?” Ryan asked, desperate.
“It’ll be okay, Ryan,” Dallon assured him. “I promise, it’ll be okay. I’m gonna take you to his new place around dinner, okay? He found the place almost two weeks ago. He’s really proud of it. He’s ready to start again as who he really is, all thanks to you.”
Ryan ducked his head and just nodded. “Is he mad at me?” he asked after a moment.
“Not at all,” Dallon said. “He’d thought you were mad at him. After the kiss.”
Ryan blushed.
“But now he knows you’re not,” Dallon said. “And he wants to talk to you.”
“C-can Pete come?” he asked in a tiny voice.
Dallon arched a brow.
“Pete just, he’s, he makes me feel safe,” Ryan mumbled, staring at his feet. “He knows how to handle me and the stuff I’ve been through. He knows me really well even though we haven’t known each other long.”
“Yeah,” Pete’s good at that,” he agreed genially. “He’ll come.”
“Thank you,” Ryan breathed, shoulders slumping in relief.
“Of course,” Dallon replied, grinning and wiping the last of the pancake mix from Ryan’s hair. “We all kinda figured you’ve been through enough hard ship to last you a lifetime. So we all, and especially Pete, have decided that it’s gonna be smooth sailing for you from here on out, as long as we have a say in things.”
Ryan smiled a bit. “Thanks…”
“Anything for the world’s greatest therapist,” Dallon teased. “Pete!” he called out. “Be ready! We’re going to Brendon’s new place for dinner!”
There was the rush of footsteps, and then Pete was at the door, wearing a frown. “Brendon has a place?”
“Yeah,” Dallon said. “It’s pretty nice. Plenty of room for five, more than enough room for two.”
Pete’s eyes lit up and Ryan didn’t understand why.
“This is gonna be a party,” Pete said with a toothy grin, before heading back out of sight, presumably to get back to Patrick. Ryan could hear him singing and smiled at the sound, how happy Pete sounded. He liked hearing his friends happy.
. . .
Pete dressed Ryan up again, smirking the whole time.
“You looked amazing the night of the party,” he said. “All the black with the neon. You’ve got a sexy body, Ryan, and a fucking amazing butt. You should be worshipped for your butt. I would love to just touch your butt all day, I mean it, but that’s not my place and I’m not going to tread on what isn’t mine, especially not in front of Brendon.”
“Why does Brendon matter with that?” Ryan asked, genuinely curious.
Pete just giggled and put a black button up in Ryan’s arms with a pair of purple jeans that Pete said he couldn’t fit in anymore even though Ryan found a size tag on them on the back of the thigh.
“I’m giving you my red chucks!” Pete said. “You’ll fit! I promise you will!”
Ryan just sighed and got dressed and found a receipt for this day regarding the purchase of red chucks.
. . .
Ryan was nervous as Dallon knocked on the door of the apartment Brendon know rented. It was really nice. On the second floor with a porch and a balcony Ryan could see. The apartment complex was only two stories high ti begin with and there was even lines of shadowed parking spots. Everything was a pleasant tan with dark grooves and there was a grassy courtyard Ryan could see through the complexes.
“This is nice,” Pete said.
“Lease is only for another month,” Brendon said.
Ryan jumped when he saw the door was open.
“I know the guy who owns it,” Brendon continued. “He’s letting me hold this until we go to LA.”
Pete grinned, bouncing on his toes. “I knew you were with me to the end, B.”
“Always, Pete,” Brendon said with a grin.
“Sorry for kicking sand at you,” Pete winced.
Brendon shrugged. “In the past, right? You had your reasons. I’m not necessarily against those reasons, too. I would’ve torn into the person if he’d been kissed by someone else.”
Pete giggled and Ryan saw him wink at Brendon and jesus fuck, he was so horribly confused right now. Everyone was apparently in on some joke? Maybe an event that probably happened fairly recent that Ryan had no been brought in on. He didn’t really take offense to that. It was probably one of those, “you had to be there,” things.
“Come inside,” Brendon welcomed. Ryan stepped in last and looked around at the spacious living room with wide eyes. It was’t anything like Pete’s place, but it was infinitely better than the places Ryan had lived throughout his whole life. Ryan wondered what he would be like now if he’d grown up rich. Maybe he’d be doing something very different, like studying in England or traveling the world without a care. But the more Ryan thought about it in the few minutes it took for Brendon to show everyone the rest of the apartment, the more he realized that he liked the life he was living now just fine.
“So, I brought Top Gun,” Pete said as he sat on the couch the apartment provided. Ryan sat next to Patrick who was next to Pete, sinking into the amazingly comfortable cushions with a soft noise of amusement. “And Dallon’s got, like eight packs of popcorn and I think shitty candy?”
“Shitty candy,” Dallon echoed with a smirk.
“Fucking awesome,” Pete said. “I say we dim these lights and let Tom Cruise romance our hearts once more.”
“Tom Cruise is love,” Brendon said. He didn’t sit in the recliner next to the sofa and instead sat on the floor at Ryan’s feet. Ryan blushed but couldn’t bring his legs up because Brendon was leaning his back against them.
Dallon put the DVD into his laptop and pulled his HDMI cable from the backpack he’d brought with to hold everything, connecting it to the TV and pressing play as he went to the kitchen to start making their snacks.
The intro credits played, but Ryan couldn’t focus on anything past the feeling of Brendon’s ribcage expanding and shrinking as he breathed. He was hyperaware of the heat coming from Brendon’s body and his blush grew darker with each passing moment as he relieved the kiss again and again until he felt flustered and far too hot. He felt Patrick nudged his arm and Ryan looked to the other man. Patrick arched a brow in a silent question and Ryan shook his head to hopefully alleviate his concerns.
Brendon readjusted himself on the ground and Ryan’s legs opened a little as Brendon settled in between them. Then Brendon rested the back of his head on Ryan’s thigh and Ryan squeaked, shot his legs up onto the couch, and climbed over the back, escaping into the kitchen under the weak guise of helping Dallon prepare the snacks.
Dallon frowned. “You okay?”
Ryan couldn’t answer past the lump in his chest and just nodded.
“Hey, B,” Dallon said soon after. Ryan tensed and stared at the countertop, hands shaking as he held his breath. He could feel Brendon standing just behind him and forced himself to not flinch if Brendon touched him.
“Can I talk to you, Ryan?” Brendon asked, sounding haggard and worn. Ryan turned around cautiously and his heart clenched when he saw a look of defeat on Brendon’s face. “I’m not going to hurt you,” Brendon added after a second, now sounding betrayed. “I wouldn’t hurt you, Ry. Don’t you know that by now?”
“No, I-I know,” Ryan rushed to say. “I’m sorry. I didn’t sleep well.”
Ryan can’t remember the last time he’d lied to make someone feel better. He wasn’t sure if he’d ever done it at all. Brendon was the first. That seemed pretty special to him.
“I know you wouldn’t hurt me,” Ryan said truthfully. “I know that. I know that better than most things I’ve known for longer.”
Brendon managed a smile that didn't reach his eyes. “Can I talk to you?” he asked again.
Ryan swallowed heavily and nodded.
“C’mon,” Brendon sighed. “The bedroom, I guess. Don’t want to disturb their movie.”
Ryan nodded and followed him down the short hall, the door to the bathroom on the right, the door to the bedroom at the left. Brendon went inside first and stopped by the bed that matched the living room furniture, so Ryan assumed it was supplied by the apartment complex as well.
Brendon sighed again, leaning against the wall between the window and the closet. “I, uh, I need to ask you something. Something important. You might want to sit.”
Ryan sat on the edge of the bed, stiff.
Brendon stared at Ryan for a long time. Ryan fought hard to keep from submitting to the stare.
“I, uh…”
Ryan waited for Brendon to continue.
He saw something change in Brendon’s expression.
Something broke a little.
Then Brendon was wearing an entirely plastic mask.
“Want me to help you with the rest of you thesis?”
Ryan knew that wasn’t the question Brendon had planned on asking.
He nodded.
“That’d be nice.”
Brendon nodded and went to the bathroom.
Ryan went back to the living room.
They didn’t talk for the rest of the night.
. . .
“What happened back there, Ryan?” Pete asked softly in the darkness of his bedroom. Patrick had gone home and Pete hadn’t put up much of a fight because Ryan knew he’d been absent and unresponsive since Brendon had taken Ryan into his own bedroom. Ryan was lying on his side, facing away from the window, staring at the shadow Pete’s body cast against the wall, Pete’s skin glowing blue and cold.
“I don’t know,” Ryan mumbled after a moment. “He wanted to ask me something, then ended up asking about something else. He seemed sad.” Ryan looked away, staring at the sheets rather than the shadow, wondering how easy it would be to tear them apart with only his hands.
Pete sighed. “I’m sorry, Ryan,” he murmured. “We thought he was going to be better. We were wrong.”
“It’s okay,” he mumbled. “I wish I could help you.”
“You can,” Pete said. “He just won’t let you.”
Ryan whimpered and turned his face into the pillow, wishing he could just disappear.
. . .
Ryan didn’t go to many classes at the end of the semester. He didn’t go to any. None of the professors were emphasizing attendance and there were any tests coming up for Ryan since he just had his thesis.
He spent most of the final days sitting on Pete’s couch, pouring over the notes he’d taken from Brendon’s sessions and texting Brendon questions whenever he had them. Brendon would only ever respond in phrases less than ten words. Ryan could feel the indifference through the phone screen and every time, it made him feel a little less alive. He remembered why he’d fought not to desire a romantic relationship with anyone anymore. It hurt more than broken ribs when the other person didn’t want anything to do with you.
His thesis was the only thing he was proud of.
Patrick had been staying at Pete’s more often than not and Ryan would always take care to conveniently fall asleep on the couch so Pete wouldn’t try to force Ryan into the bed. He didn’t really want to cock-block Pete like that, especially after everything he’d done for him.
Dallon would come by and help Ryan out, sometimes with Breezy. He’d mull over every single word Ryan had down and help him critique, edit, and refine the thesis. Ryan was so unbelievably grateful to him.
“We’re all moving to LA after this,” Dallon told Ryan.
Ryan nodded.
“Meaning, all of us,” Dallon added.
Ryan looked up from the computer screen to Dallon and nodded again.
“Meaning you too, Ryan.”
Ryan frowned. “Really?”
Dallon nodded.
“Why’s that?” he asked.
“Cause you’re family,” Dallon hummed. “As of now, Pete’s looking for a two-bedroom apartment so you can stay with him. But I’ve got something in the works. No matter what, you’re staying with us.”
Ryan smiled a bit and nodded. “Thank you.”
“Don’t mention it,” Dallon replied with a wave of his hand. “Now, about your presentation of the data…”
. . .
Ryan was waiting outside the Psych’s building main lecture hall, waiting to present his data. He had the powerpoint on a thumb drive, he had his notes on flash cards, he had every word of his presentation down, and yet he was still terrified of failing. He was sitting on a bench, staring at the floor, trying to calm his trembling hands.
Dark sneakers stepped into Ryan’s line of sight and he followed them up to Brendon’s face.
“Hey,” Brendon said.
“Hey,” Ryan replied, shellshocked.
“I’m taking you to dinner after this,” Brendon said.
Ryan nodded dumbly.
Brendon was silent for a long moment, visibly thinking. Then, he ducked his head and kissed Ryan’s cheek. He pulled away just as quickly as he had come and went down the hall with tight steps. He couldn’t help but feel like he was being wooed with awkward gestures and lingering touches that made Ryan’s body light with fire and made him feel alive.
Ryan watched him go, mouth agape, as he tried to figure out what had happened and as his heart fluttered and remembered the touch of Brendon’s lips over and over again.
. . .
On cloud nine, Ryan aced the presentation, basked in the applause, and left with his head held high and a doctorate that only needed to be printed and shipped. He was even more elated because that horrible professor wasn’t in his usual seat.
. . .
Brendon was waiting outside the lecture hall, at the other door.
Ryan smiled shyly at him, hands folded over his notes in front of his body. “Uh, hi.”
“Hey,” Brendon said again, managing a smile. it reached his eyes and Ryan’s heart fluttered. “How’d it go?”
“Amazing,” Ryan breathed. He blushed when he realized he was acting like a starstruck fool. Brendon chuckled fondly and Ryan hoped that meant he didn’t mind. He was very shy to this sort of thing, hadn’t really trusted himself to be open with the past two people. But Brendon already knew all those things. Ryan didn’t have much to hide.
“I’m gonna take you out,” Brendon said. “Like, for dinner. Uhm… A-a date?”
Ryan felt his heart stop. “A date…”
“If that’s okay?” Brendon asked, looking surprisingly vulnerable.
“I’d love it,” Ryan rushed to say. Then he realized he probably sounded way too eager. “I-I mean…”
Brendon smiled wider. “I’d love it, too.”
Ryan blushed deeper.
Brendon grinned and held out his hand for Ryan to take.
Ryan took Brendon’s hand and felt like he could fly.
. . .
“So, like, I know this is out of the blue,” Brendon said as they walked through the campus, their hands swaying gently between their bodies as they walked. “But, uh, I’ve kinda wanted to, like, date you for a while. That sounds lame. But I’ve wanted you for a while. Like, fuck, the night after I told you about my dreams, you remember that? That same night, you, y-you were in my dreams. Dream.”
“I was?” Ryan asked, looking to him and trusting Brendon not to let him run into anything.
“Yeah,” Brendon said. He blushed faintly. “You, uh… You, you looked beautiful.”
Ryan giggled shyly because he didn’t know what else to do and leaned against Brendon. “I’m guessing it was a sex dream,” he observed bluntly. It was funny to watch Brendon’s face go an even deeper red while a smile tugged at his lips.
“So I was thinking I’m gonna take you to dinner and a movie and then we go back to Pete’s and figure shit out, right?” Brendon asked. “And, uh… I feel like I know you a lot better than so many other people who have been in my life for years. And I feel like you know me better than them too, right? So, uh, I washing you’d, uh, m-move in with me? Lived with me? When we all go out to LA?”
Ryan grinned even wider and couldn’t nod fast enough.
“Fuck yeah,” Brendon breathed before leaning in and kissing Ryan like he needed to take Ryan’s air so he could breath. Ryan whimpered against his lips, then tangled his hands in Brendon’s hair, holding him close and smiling into the kiss. He wasn’t very good at kissing, but Brendon didn’t seem to mind. That was the first sign Ryan had for Brendon being someone good to have in his life like this.
Brendon’s hand pulled from Ryan’s so both of Brendon’s arms could rest on Ryan’s waist, comforting and warm and it felt like Brendon was holding Ryan as his own. He knew it was far too early to be falling like this, so he could only hope Brendon was falling just as fast with him.
“Fuck the movie,” Brendon breathed against Ryan’s lips. “Let’s go to Pete’s. Pretty sure they’ll make us food anyways. He’s been waiting for me to tell you for fucking months, jesus.”
“Months,” Ryan repeated softly like he didn’t believe it.
Brendon smirked and kissed Ryan again. “Months,” he echoed. “C’mon. Pete’s gonna be so excited. And Dallon. Especially Dallon. He’s had to put up with some awful shit from me. I’m a bitch when I’m indecisive.”
Ryan giggled and Brendon pulled him along as fast as he could without tripping over their legs.
. . .
“I could fucking kiss you!” Pete shouted, smiling impossibly wide. “Fucking fuck yes! Fuck! I’m gonna order a pizza and a cake and streamers and we’re gonna turn the bass all the way up and we’re gonna fucking celebrate the ever living fuck out of this! And then we’re gonna pass out on the floor and gonna have an orgy after that!”
“What?” Patrick asked flatly.
“Never mind on the orgy!” Pete quickly corrected with an even stupider grin. “But there’s gonna be a cake and pizza and we’re gonna love the fuck out of each other because everyone is with someone so everyone is happy!”
Ryan almost wanted to comment on Pete’s misguided belief that a partner was required for happiness, but then he remembered how he’d felt when Brendon had first kissed him and he found himself unable to argue. He just squeezed Brendon’s hand and leaned against him more and couldn’t stop smiling.
Pete just beamed at them both. “I could fucking cry,” he choked out, sounding like he actually could start crying.
Ryan giggled and moved forward to hug Pete, unable to get over the happiness welding in his chest. This kinda felt like every dream he’d ever had was coming true. Ryan hadn’t ever dreamed for much. A stable job and something that helped him fight thoughts of giving up completely.
He now had, like, five things to keep those thoughts away, and he was so fucking excited for tomorrow and everything after that.
. . .
“I have a question,” Brendon murmured, playing with Ryan’s fingers as they lied on the floor in the dark living room, everyone else mostly asleep around them.
“Ask,” Ryan replied in a whisper, watching their digits tangle and entwine.
“You said you used to have a friend,” Brendon murmured. “Spencer.”
Ryan tensed, his fingers stilling.
“I’m sorry,” Brendon whimpered.
“It’s fine,” Ryan mumbled. “Just, it was my fault. I don’t like to think about it.”
“Was it bad?” Brendon asked after a moment.
Ryan shook his head. “Not for him.”
“What does that mean?”
Ryan shrugged. “It wasn’t hard for him to leave. Just, one day he decided he’d had enough of me and my father. He was tired of it. Tired of being in harm’s way just because he knew me. So after high school, he left. I didn’t even know. He’d changed his number and his parents wouldn’t tell me anything. I was almost scared he’d died until his parents told me otherwise, but wouldn’t let me see him.”
“That’s pretty fucking shitty,” Brendon huffed.
Ryan shrugged again. “He did what he had to do.”
“Doesn’t mean you can step on the people who rely on you,” he bit out. “Especially when they need your help. When they’re being fucking abused. You don’t just walk out on people who are being hurt by the very people who should be protecting them!”
Ryan whimpered and kissed Brendon when he started to get too loud. The kiss distracted Brendon, but he could still feel the lingering anger in the urgency of the kiss. Brendon moved to hover above Ryan, on his knees, straddling Ryan’s waist. He could feel the heat spinning between their bodies and whimpered against Brendon’s lips, shuddering.
Brendon pulled away when he felt him tremble. “I said you don’t have to be scared of me…”
Ryan shook his head, his breathing labored. “I-I wasn’t scared.”
It took Brendon all of three seconds to get it, and when he did, he smirked. Ryan tensed, expecting Brendon to press for more, but Brendon just pressed a kiss to the corner of his lips, then lied back down on his side. He felt Brendon’s arms encase him and pull him close.
“Sleep, Ry, baby,” Brendon hummed softly. “We’ve got our futures ahead of us. And I’m not letting you miss out on a second of it.”