RYDEN ONESHOTS // A Picturesque Score of Passing Fantasy

L¡lac E¡ffel Tøwers and Fløwers

— SAD WARNING —

Brendon's eyes shoot open. His breathing is fast. still fast from his dream he forced himself to wake up from.

His mind, like a scratched CD, continues to play it over and over, torturing him with the sight of horror that, thank god was a dream.

Ryan's car crashing into a tree. Right in front of him.

The gut wrenching fear twists as he pulls over to rush and see if he's okay. He turns to his passenger seat to grab his phone, but looks up and sees a figure over his head. God?

No, it turned out to just be the potted planted hanging above the head.

His soft pajama sleeve wipes the tears out of his eyes and he rolls over to find Ryan gone.

'Strange'

Brendon wonders why Ryan would be up this early at a sleepover. To be fair, he is as well, but that's only because of his crazy mind dolling with his horrible dreams.

Through his ebony fringe, he looks to the sleeping mat on the floor to see Spencer and Jon, curled up together, fast asleep.

A small pang sounds from the mechanics in his heart as a tiny spring coils tight with little too much envy.

 'I wish that could be Ryan and I'

The thought reminds him of his interest in where said boy went.

Carefully and quietly, he sneaks out of the bed and leaves his room. 

He knows that Ryan knows his house well enough, to give him an idea of where he went, also giving him reason to grab the comforter off the guest bed and bring it with him. 

Walking around the edge of the stripped guest bed and looking out the window, he gives himself nonexistent points for being right as he sees, knees to his chest facing out into the twilight, the lighter haired boy.

He opens the window and crawls through with blanket, closes it behind him and stands before walking down the cold roof to the other boy.

-

A cold breeze draws shivers from the base of his spine. They ripple up him and he finally blinks, spilling the pooled tears left over from his moment. He feels the wind make the once warm streaks on his face frigid, yet refuses to wipe them.

He really was spaced out before that chill brought him back. 

What that means is that Ryan doesn't really... exist in the real world for an amount of time, mentally. His senses are off. He's lost in the place wherever his thoughts are at the moment. 

He sees nothing. Hears nothing. Feels nothing. 

Nothing. 

His eyes may be open but he's not truly seeing the dull blue of the twilight or the rising purple of the dawn.

He does however feel the body squat down next to him. 

A dark pair of eyes, matching equally dark hair blows gently in the wind, framing a calm solemn face. Brendon's warm empathy seeps into him as he throws the comforter around his skinny body.

The lighter haired boys tears return at the gesture reminding him he's loved. He wishes he wasn't so he could just disappear and leave no wake to hurt those around him. 

He's almost there. 

He has no one who loves him. 

No one. Except Brendon. 

Sometimes he considers destroying their relationship, getting Brendon to hate him, so he'd have no one and could disappear. 

But then he remembers the times.

The times when that damn boy he laughs just right to remind him how much he loves him, how he sings his words so perfectly, he wishes he could know what other things those lips and tongue did. 

And simply, yet most importantly... the times like this. 

When the satisfaction of death and escaping the hell of being alive, simply doesn't compare to the ecstasy Brendon brings upon him with his feeling of being loved. 

The thought breaks him. He lets out a quiet sob and gives in.

-

Brendon's heart drops at the feeling of Ryan's sobbing as he leans Into him. 

He wraps his arms around, holding onto him tight, wishing he could give his "okay-ness" to the other boy through his embrace. He hates seeing him upset. 

Hauling him up closer, he tries to warm up his cold body.

Ryan turns Into Brendon and wraps his other arm around his torso. Resting his head on his shoulder, he clings to his friend while he cries, quietly of course. 

Brendon's hand rubs Ryan's back soothingly, and strokes his hair, he says nothing though. 

No calming words or sounds. 

Perfect. 

Exactly what Ryan wants. 

Brendon always knows exactly what's good for him. 

He feels his soft pajamas under his moist cheek, and can feel his warm skin beneath it. 

His strong shoulder, his smooth skin stretched taught over the frame... and Ryan's mind wanders to how many times he's seen Brendon's shoulder. How it moves when it raises above his head to take his shirt of, or when he wears a tank. 

'God he's indescribably attractive. Does he know it?'

Brendon Turns Ryan's head inwards, drawing him from his thoughts, and wiping the tears from his eyes with his sleeve. 

Now Ryan can only think about the love. 

How Brendon loves him. 

He's there, wiping his tears, and rubbing his back, and cradling him. 

Holding him.

-

Ryan's soft hot breath washes over Brendon's neck like slow motion water. 

It sends shivers through him. 

Shivers of want, but he knows it's for another time. 

For another time he could desire the feeling of Ryan's soft lips on his skin. 

Now isn't the time. Now he needs to be his friend. 

Even though his thoughts are consumed by his attraction towards his friend, which is only growing stronger with every second they're together. 

Every touch they share, Brendon's infatuation with the boy in his arms currently roots deeper and deeper into his heart garden. 

'so much, I love you so much Ry you have no idea...'

A hot moisture collects on his shoulder, as Ryan's tears trickle down his face and land on the soft fabric, 

dampening the lilac coloured Eiffel towers and flowers.