reunited - ryden

Chapter 2

"Hey, Ryan, you left without saying goodbye yesterday!" Betty says, mock-frowning at me. I sigh inwardly, and force myself to smile at her.

"Yeah, yeah, sorry. I, uh, was late to a music thing." She shrugs, and gives me my change.

"Sure you were. As long as we didn't do anything here, it's all good!" I shake my head, the smile coming a bit easier this time.

"Nah, you guys are great. Could never do anything wrong in my eyes," She laughs, and rolls her eyes, saying,

"You flatter me, Ross," before turning around to begin making my drink. I do spend too much money here, but the staff like Betty - who's a few years younger than me, and is the manager, make it worthwhile. Also, instant coffee tastes and smells like dog shit, and I'm not

She hands me my drink, and I turn around to survey the cafe, picking out which table seems furthest away from everyone. I can see someone watching me and when I turn to look at whoever it is, I almost walk into straight into the table I was going to sit down at. Brendon's watching me, a barely concealed look of shock on his stupidly hot face.

At least Z got her wish, but what the fuck am I supposed to do here!? Do I walk over? Run out? Sit somewhere else and pretend I don't know him!?

Thankfully, he smiles slightly awkwardly at me, and gestures for me to come sit. We're too far apart for him to yell something without drawing everyone's attention, and while I know he's not necessarily opposed to that, he must still know that I am.

I oblige, and find myself sitting on a stool opposite the man I used to be in love with, who I thought was I would spend the rest of my life with. Not marriage, because that's not legal, but more as in Freddie Mercury and Jim Hutton - although less famous. A lot less famous. And with dogs, not cats.

"Hey, Ryan, long time no see, huh?" He says, flashing his teeth at me in a smile I recognise for cameras, and interviews. I feel a pang in my chest, which is stupid. Why would he smile at me the way he used to? We haven't seen each other for...two years, now. No contact whatsoever.

"Uh, yeah, you could say that." I reply. This conversation is painful for both of us, but we still have to go along with it. Maybe I'll write about it in a song. "How are you?" Brendon barely raises an eyebrow. We both know this kind of small talk isn't for me - which funnily enough is why I don't exactly have many friends. Just a few close ones, and people like Spencer and Jon.

"Yeah, I'm doing alright. Didn't know you lived here, I thought you were still central." I shrug.

"Uh, I moved here after I left the band, and to be honest I thought the same thing about you. Unless you don't live here?" Please say you don't.

"I do like central Cali, but Sarah wanted to go somewhere slightly more suburban. We made a compromise, and here was a place we both liked." So he's still with Sarah. What can I say to that?

"Sarah?" I ask. God, this conversation is like one of two people badly improvising our lives. It's just not us, which is why I guess it is. He nods slowly.

"Yeah, my girlfriend. We've been together almost a year now. Uh, engaged as of a month ago. Moved here as of a week ago. Guess you can spot the connection." He doesn't seem happy, but I'm probably imagining it. He's engaged, for fucks sake, get yourself together Ross. Yeah, the last time we saw each other we, uh, conveniently ignored the fact that Sarah was around, but that doesn't mean we can this time.

"Oh, that's cool. You set a date yet?" I'm trying so hard to be calm, not let my shitty emotions get the best of me like they always do, and hoping to god that he can't see through me. He probably can, but he doesn't let me know. All his time in front of cameras and millions of fans have led him to improve his fake smile, and patience. I remember a time when both of us would have to mentally prepare by making out whenever we did meet and greets or anything, but those days are over, and I guess he wouldn't need to anyway.

"Uh, sometime in the summer. Not sure when, but Sarah likes the hot more than the cold, so..." he trails off, shrugging, and ducks his head slightly. A part of my brain helpfully reminds me he does that when he feels awkward, embarrassed. I realise he's watching me looking at him, and the tension manages to somehow increase. Shit. Change topic.

Thankfully, he seems to have the same idea, as he suddenly gets up from his seat. "I...I have to go. I've got to meet with my manager about our new album. It was nice seeing you!" He pauses, some internal conflict showing on his still gorgeous face, before taking out a pen and scribbling something down on a napkin. "Talk later, bye!" He practically sprints out, and I watch him run across the road, before disappearing between houses.

I glance down at the napkin, and then look again. I don't know what I expected it to be, but it wasn't his fucking number!?

I pick it up, as if it doesn't actually exist. As if I'm back in 2009, tripping on LSD and never being able to be quite sure what I'm seeing. True to Brendon, it's written in doctor's handwriting, which has barely improved since I last saw him.

This is a bad idea. I should leave the napkin, throw it away, and just not think about it again.

It ends up in my pocket, and I leave the shop before I can change my mind.

—

The too many empty beer cans on my table tell me not to do anything, to leave my phone where it is, and to just call it a night.

Everything else tells me 'fuck it, what's the worst that could happen?'. Obviously, a lot could happen. Bad things, like he tells me to fuck off and that he still hates me. Good things, like we reconnect, and someday in the future, when the rift between us has healed, we...we...

Fuck.

I realise what I want to happen, and I can't believe it. I can't fucking believe I'm stupid enough to still be in love with him. I run my hand through my hair, on the verge of seriously panicking. What the fuck is wrong with me!? I have the possible change of reconnecting with someone I haven't seen in ages, and I turn it into some fucking fantasy of getting a house and a dog in the country with him.

After a while, I sit up. My apartment's always too silent, especially when it's this late. I turn on the TV, not bothering to flick through channels - it's just the background noise I need, and pick up my phone. The napkin is still in my pocket, and I find myself adding his number into my contacts.

I then find myself typing, and hitting send, with no time to look back on what I said. Then the sofa suddenly looks so comfortable, and I'm too tired to care anymore.

--

ok hi i'm not really sure what to say but for the. 3 ppl that have read this shit, constructive criticism is always appreciated but pls be nice am coward