Boys Will Be Boys *Ryden*

You'll Never Know if You Don't Ever Try Again

Brendon sat on the edge of the bed, watching Ryan empty the contents of his suitcase onto the floor.

"I can't believe you forgot to bring a lighter," Ryan said, exasperated.

"I can't think of everything."

"That's the problem, you never think," Ryan muttered.

Brendon lifted an eyebrow but said nothing. He didn't feel like getting into an argument, especially knowing what kind of mood Ryan had been in all day.

Ryan began digging through one of the outer pockets of his suitcase. After a minute he exclaimed triumphantly, "A-ha! I knew I had one in here." He sat back on his heels and tossed the lighter to Brendon, who caught it one-handed.

Sliding off the bed, Brendon knelt next to him and handed him the joint and the lighter. "You can start it."

Ryan reached out, flinching slightly when their hands brushed. Flicking the lighter on, he put the joint to his lips and inhaled deeply until the end glowed red. The sweet-tasting smoke flooded his lungs and he held it in, closing his eyes, already feeling more relaxed than he had all day.

"That's good shit, right?" Brendon asked, smiling knowingly.

Ryan blew out a stream of smoke and replied sedately, "Yeah it is. Where'd you get it?"

Brendon shrugged. "Zack knows somebody." He extended his arm and Ryan handed him the joint, watching as Brendon took a long drag and then sat back on the floor, his back against the bed and his legs stretched out in front of him. His eyes drifted closed, too, and he murmured, "Ahhh...I knew it'd be good."

They smoked most of the joint in silence after that. Comfortable silence, Brendon thought, but maybe he was just stoned.

After a few minutes, Ryan asked, aiming for a casual tone of voice, "So...are you going back to the party?"

"I wasn't planning to," Brendon answered. "Why? Do you want me to leave?" He couldn't tell if Ryan was trying to kick him out.

Ryan didn't know how to answer that. He didn't want him to go, but he didn't really want him to stay either. Not if they both wanted different things. "It's up to you. Do what you want," he said, instantly realizing how childish it sounded. Fortunately for him, Brendon didn't call him out on it.

"I only want to stay if you want me to stay," Brendon challenged.

Ryan stared at him; his mind a little hazy, his body pleasantly languid from the weed. "I don't know what I want."

Brendon let out a humorless laugh. "Kind of a theme with us, don't you think?"

"Kind of a theme with you." Ryan retorted.

In a second (faster than Ryan would have thought possible, considering the caliber of weed they were smoking), Brendon was on his feet. "Hey, man, I've all been tiptoeing around you all day -- everyone has. I get that things aren't really going the way you want them to, or whatever, but you're getting on everyone's nerves."

Ryan got to his feet too, a bit unsteadily. "Then leave," he snapped.

Brendon crossed his arms and planted his feet wide apart. "Make me," he said with a smirk, sounding like a petulant 10-year-old.

Ryan took a step forward and pushed him, not trying to hurt him, just shoving him in the direction of the door. Brendon leaned back but didn't stumble. Damn him and his stupid balance, Ryan thought. He shoved him again, this time with more force.

"Hey, easy there. You don't want to break a nail," Brendon taunted.

Ryan sneered and moved in to push him again, but this time Brendon caught him by the wrists, hooked his leg around Ryan's ankles, and tripped him. He landed with a thud on the floor and instantly Brendon was on him, tickling him ruthlessly until he squealed like a girl.