Give Me Envy, Give Me Malice, Give Me Your Attention *Ryden*

Better to Face These Kinds of Things With a Sense of Poise & Rationality

Saturday, October 31, 2015/Sunday, November 1, 2015 (Wee hours of the morning)

Zack approached Brendon as Ryan's car sped away from the curb, putting an arm out to steady him but then dropping his hand before making contact. "Let's go."

Brendon began stalking toward the house. "Where's Sarah?" he barked.

Zack said, "She was inside talking to Pete last I saw. She didn't see anything."

"Well, there wasn't anything to see, was there?"

Oh, there was plenty to see, Zack thought. He was glad he'd had the forethought to come looking for Brendon. There was no telling what might have happened if that scene hadn't been interrupted. God knows it wasn't the first time Zack had ever deliberately interfered in similar situations between those two.

"He's such an asshole," Brendon muttered.

"I suspect he had his reasons for coming here tonight," said Zack.

Brendon didn't reply to that. He made it inside, found Sarah, and took a huge swig of her drink. "Ready to go?"

She nodded. "Yup. Let's call it a night."

Sunday, November 1, 2015. (Late morning)

Brendon finally rolled out of bed, grimacing. He wanted to shower and smoke a blunt, not necessarily in that order. He gulped down the water Sarah had brought him, grabbed his iPhone, headed towards his home studio and set about rolling a blunt. Just the act of it alone soothed him, and after a few deep hits he felt himself relaxing. He hadn't realized how tense he actually was. Checking his phone, he saw that he had 3 texts.

First one was from Spence. "Heard you saw Ry last night, howd that go?" (with a wide-eyed, blue faced, scared-looking emoji). Brendon winced, typed back, "Was fine. Good as could be expected. Least it's over with."

Second text was from Zack. "Let me know if you need some aspirin, or if you want me to kick some scrawny ass for ya." He smiled at that, shaking his head. Typical Zack.

Third text was from Adam, who had hosted the party. "Didn't realize there was bad blood or wouldn't have invited him. No harm meant, sorry dude!" (Peace sign emoji). Brendon's finger hovered, about to tap a response, but he hit delete instead.

Stretching, he headed for the shower, stopping in the kitchen first to get more water and wash down a couple ibuprofen tablets. He was met by Bogart and Penny Lane, little tails wiggling and nails clicking against the floor, and he smiled, stopping to pat them and talk to them. Such sweeties. He loved those dogs.

In the bathroom he took a quick look at his face in the mirror. In his drunken state last night, he'd tried to remove the face paint, but around his ears and along the sides of his nose there were still splotches of black. Standing under the steaming hot water pouring from the shower head, he scrubbed his face & allowed his mind to wander. What the hell had that been about last night? Why did Ryan put on such an act about being happy to see him at first, then verbally attack him later on? Brendon wouldn't allow the thought that maybe he'd been the one to start the argument occur to him. Truth be told, he didn't really remember how it started. He did remember wanting to punch him, but then that was overshadowed by the unbelievably powerful urge to kiss him. And Ryan was going to let him.

In spite of his lingering hangover, he felt his dick twitch, liquid heat spreading through his belly when he remembered the way Ryan's eyes had drifted closed, the way he'd leaned in, mouth parted. For a second Brendon entertained the thought of inviting Sarah into the shower with him, but it occurred to him that she wasn't the one he wanted right now. Instead, he grabbed the bar of soap, lathered up his right hand, and began to stroke himself hard and fast, eyes closed, head falling back. It didn't take long at all before he was stifling a gasp, bracing himself against the shower wall with his left hand, and coming all over the shower floor.

Fuck.

He washed his hair, soaped up his skin, rinsed himself and the shower floor thoroughly and stepped out, drying off with a soft, thick bath towel and then wrapping it around his waist. The day stretched ahead of him and he felt restless, not knowing what he felt like doing. Throwing on a pair of boxers and his favorite ripped black jeans in the bedroom, he made his way back to the studio, dogs in tow.

***

Later that afternoon, Zack strolled in. "What's good?" he asked Brendon, who looked up from his computer in the studio, eyebrows furrowed in frustration.

"Absolutely nothing. I wanted to get some work done, but I got nothin'."

"Something on your mind?" Zack said stoically.

"No." Brendon responded, too quickly, too emphatically.

"Look," Zack said, putting his hands up, palms facing out, fingers spread. A gesture of I come in peace. "I've been thinking."

"That never ends wel--"

Zack interrupted him, "I think you should talk to him. Clear the air, get everything out in the open. Like it or not, you're going to be seeing more of him. Spence says his new music is really good, and once his album drops, he's going to be at a lot of the same parties and events as we are."

Brendon stared. It wasn't like he didn't want Ryan to be successful; he did. But it hadn't happened yet, and Brendon was used to the distance that was between them. He liked not bumping into him at every social gathering.

"What do you have to lose, really?" said Zack.

"What do I have to gain?" snapped Brendon.

"I dunno. Peace of mind? Or maybe, an old friend back?"

Brendon snorted. "I don't see that happening any time soon."

Zack narrowed his eyes. "At the very least, it would generate quite a buzz. Fans would go friggin' bonkers."

"Don't you think our fans are already bonkers enough without adding fuel to the fire?" he had to laugh at that idea. He loved his fans, but some of them were definitely...interesting. "The last thing I need is to start being seen with Ryan. Imagine all the new fan fics?" Making his voice high, he used his signature "valley girl" impersonation to say, "They ship us, Zack."

Zack burst out laughing. "I thought you didn't know what the fuck 'ship' meant."

Brendon shrugged, mumbled, "I looked it up."

Shaking his head, Zack said, "You always have to know the internet slang shit, don't ya?"

"Well, it would be dumb of me not to keep up with the times. Pop culture, baby. If you don't know, then you're old."

"I am old."

"Well, I'm not. Just sayin'. Maybe you should start learning. It'll keep you young."

"Pffft. No desire. I got better things to do with my time." Zack said, rolling his eyes.

"Like marathon Game of Thrones and smoke cigars?"

"Hey, I know what makes me happy."

Brendon sighed and leaned back in his chair. He checked his phone again, clicking on the Twitter icon and scrolling through quickly. Zack noticed and cringed, eyes going wide. He waited for it --

"You've got be fucking kidding me!!" Brendon shouted, and threw his phone in Zack's general direction.