And So We Fall

Muttered Apologies

*Ryan's POV*

"Are you excited?" The dark-haired boy sitting next to me asks with a stupid grin on his face.

"Meh. I've released so many films that the process has become sort of dull," I respond, looking out the taxi window at the fleeting Los Angeles buildings. I want to hold Brendon's hand, but no, the driver would not like that. Gay men in his taxi? Despicable.

"Oh, come on!" Brendon jabs me in the ribs excitedly. "It's our first movie together!"

"Yes, and?" I raise my eyebrows, looking over at him.

"And it's one of the best movies you've ever made! With my help, of course." He scrunches his face up into a goofy grin. I love when he does that.

"Alrighty, here we are fellas," the cab driver grunts as he pulls up in front of the office building. He holds out his hand and I give him the cash.

Brendon and I get out of the cab and walk into the building. The lady at the desk greets me with a much-too-happy "Good evening, Mr. Ross. How are you today?"

"Fine, Linda. You?" I say as kindly as I can. Brendon tells me I need to work on my "unnecessarily poor attitude." Anything for him.

"I'm great! Here to see how our editors are treating Death Valley?" She seems excited that I'm not ignoring her.

"Yup."

"Alright, you know where to go. Have a nice rest of your day!"

I nod in response and head towards the elevators with Brendon not far behind. It lights up gold as I press 13.

I lean against the wall of the elevator and look at Brendon. He's let his hair grow out more. Now, long, messy bangs cover his forehead. He's dressed in a simple yellow button-up and dark corduroy slacks, and god, he looks beautiful. And he's all mine.

Brendon catches me staring at him and his eyes sparkle as he grins. I take one swift step to capture his lips in a kiss before the elevator doors open.

We meet the editing team in some conference room. They ask why Brendon's there.

"He helped with the movie," I say blatantly, but the head editor furrows his eyebrows.

"What's his name?" the man says with a thick French accent.

"Brendon Urie."

He looks down at the stack of papers in front of him and begins shuffling through them.

"Was he an assistant director?"

"No."

"Producer?"

"No."

"Actor?"

"No."

"Scriptwriter?"

"No," I huff, getting annoyed. "He's my photographer."

The man scoffs. "He doesn't need to be here."

"But he helped with the idea-"

"I don't care. His name isn't in the credits so he can't be here."

This time, Brendon speaks up.

"You didn't put my name in the credits?" he nearly whispers to me.

"I-" I start, but the man cuts me off.

"Your friend needs to leave." He folds his hands on the table, obviously not in the mood for negotiation. Brendon looks to me for help and I mouth, There's not much I can do.