how to kill a straight guy // ryden

step 6: make him fall in love [part one]

You tired?"

Ryan took a glance over his shoulder at the boy staring up at him from leaning on the back of his seat. "Why?"

"I could drive."

"Psh," Ryan scoffed back. "Really? Well, I've got an idea."

"What?"

"No."

"Oh, c'mon!" Brendon whined. It was only to Los Angeles, how bad could it be? He scooted to the edge of his seat, chin resting on Ryan's shoulder. "Look at me back here. Brent and Spence are asleep, I'm cramped, and you're the only one who looks like they're having fun." He felt Ryan try to shrug him off.

"I'm not 'having fun', I'm driving," Ryan said. He was getting too mature. "I'm not handing our lives to the driving skills of a guy who just got his license a few weeks ago either. Try to go to sleep or something."

Brendon sat back in his seat with a dull thud, arms crossed across his small chest and thick lips pouting after an overdramatic sigh. "I can't. I'm too awake," he mumbled out, picking at the loose fabric on his jeans. With their concert in San Diego, he had been pumped full of fresh adrenaline—it was his showmanship nature. Working on getting to Los Angeles so they could crash for the night before their next concert, they'd elected Ryan to drive since he was the oldest while Brendon, Spencer, and Brent squeezed into the back to celebrate a successful running. But once Brent and Spencer had given up on the singer, collapsing in sleep that Brendon just wasn't capable of understanding, he had become unoccupied and bored, playing on how the boy driving looked to be tumbling into exhaustion as well. Being chock-full of energy all the time had its kicks. "You sure you're not tired? You look like a wreck to me."

"You can't prove anything," Ryan said back, snarky in tone. Brendon kept pouting before a knowing grin slowly spread across his lips, sitting back up in his seat in renewed confidence.

"You ran a red light and a stop sign respectively about fifteen miles ago, and the next exit is three exits behind us by now. In the half of an hour out of the two and a half it'll take to get there, you've committed two crimes and missed our road."

Ryan blinked slowly, not saying anything as he stared blankly at the long stretch of highway in front of him. There was a long silence, before Ryan sighed loudly, the humming engine of the car growing faint as the guitarist pulled it over on the shoulder of the road. Brendon jumped slightly as the brunet's head snapped back to him.

"Fine. Drive," he stated bluntly, Brendon's eyebrows rising in delayed confusion as Ryan's seat buckle snapped open, the older man scooting across the connected seats to the passenger side. Brendon just stared dumbfounded, not sure if this was an act to test his courageousness or if Ryan really meant it. He counted two minutes before he began to think Ryan was serious, cautiously stretching a leg over the back of the seats and situating himself in the driver's side. He drummed his fingers on the steering wheel, a side glance over to the guitarist that still was staring out of the side window before putting the car back into drive and heading onto the highway.

Brendon suddenly felt like he was growing up.

It really didn't take as long as Brendon thought it would. It was only a matter of minutes before the atmosphere of a quiet van and the repetition of scenery produced the final result of Ryan's suspected drowsiness. The side of the boy's head rested against the glass of the window, sunk down in his seat with knees pressed up against the dashboard and brown eyes closed. It almost looked painful—Brendon never quite liked the idea of sleeping in the car because of what it does to your back. Brent and Spencer in the seats behind them looked content sleeping against each other though, sprawled out along the area with Brent's mouth hanging open quite comically. Brendon was afraid he'd get all of them in a fiery car accident from how many times he'd looked back there just for a laugh.