Things Have Changed For Me (And That's Not Okay)

Ryan slipped into the bar slightly nervously, eyes darting around in search of a familiar face.

“Hey- Ross!”

The twenty-five-year-old let out a sigh of relief at Spencer’s familiar voice. “Hey, Spence.”

“Long time no s-” He was interrupted by a tight hug from his lanky friend.

“You’re still the best hugger ever,” Ry mumbled into Spencer’s shoulder.

“Even compared to Brendon?”

“Sometimes...” he admitted quietly.

“RYAN! RYAN ROSS!”

Ryan turned, half-forcing a smile at his bouncy, flamboyant ex- well, who he expected to be bouncy and flamboyant. Square, wide sunglasses covered gorgeous brown eyes. Black leather jacket over a plain dark t-shirt. Jeans were no longer skin-tight. The most unsatisfactory thing of all- to Ryan, at least- was the tall man pressed close to Brendon’s side.

Dallon.

The smile went from half-forced to completely forced. “Hi, Brendon! Long time no see, huh?”

“Yeah- feels like forever sometimes... This is-”

“Dallon, yeah. We haven’t met before, have we?” Ryan forced himself to hold out his hand for the other to shake.

Dallon took it, his smile just as forced. “No, we haven’t. Nice to meet you.”

Spencer glanced at Jon, both knowing how completely fake the whole ordeal was. As long as Brendon stayed ignorant, then it’d probably end up at least a little bit okay.

“Hey, come sit with us- we were just gonna start some shots,” Brendon grinned, taking Ryan by the elbow and guiding him to a barstool.

“Since when have you done shots?” Ry raised an eyebrow.

“Ever heard of change, Ross? He doesn’t have to be the same person you knew five years ago,” Dallon snorted, sliding closer to his boyfriend and gesturing to the bartender.

Normally, if they sat at the bar instead of in a corner booth, Brendon would be spinning the seat around and making himself dizzy before he’d even consumed any alcohol. Now, though, he sat like a normal person, not attracting any attention to himself whatsoever... until Dallon glanced away and Brendon allowed himself a quick spin. Which makes Ryan giggle a little bit- which immediately brings Dallon’s attention back to Brendon, his guard up immediately from the prospect of Brendon being taken from him.

Ryan managed to hide the fact that he was barely drinking, while next to him Brendon was stage-five drunk off his ass. Dallon seemed to be perfectly sober.

“I’ll be back,” Ry muttered, sliding off the barstool and heading for the bathroom. As he stood there looking in the mirror, the heavy wooden door open and Dallon slipped in, standing silently and glaring at Ryan through the glass.

“He’s mine now.”

“I know.”

“Then back the fuck off!”

“Back the fuck off?! I’m not doing anything! I’m not the one smothering him! You’re oppressing his originality, Dallon!” the guitarist snapped, then instantly curled into himself and attempted to dart out the door, immediately blocked by the other musician. Weekes was bigger than him, most definitely more forceful. Ryan’d be dead if he stayed in that tiny bathroom for another minute.

Dallon didn’t know what to say. Dallon, even though he didn’t want to admit it, knew it was true. Brendon was not his child-like and bouncy self anymore. That wasn’t his fault, though; people change and mature. “Just back off,” he hissed, leaving the bathroom.