(I Am the Derivative and You Are the Curves)

Part Three

It was strange how much could change in a week; the drive back to campus from Brendon's house was significantly different than the drive there. Ryan lay curled against Brendon's side, their fingers entwined, breathing deeply and closing his eyes. It was Saturday night, their week break now over, Brendon's family hugging Ryan tightly and telling him to come back soon, and sending him a Tupperware of leftovers.

Ryan had dozed the whole trip back, Brendon woke him and asked if he'd like to stay at his place that night, rather than alone in his dorm. The thought of leaving Brendon when they'd been together all week was painful, so Ryan happily agreed.

And it just seemed to happen, like it usually did with them, but they ended up having sex again, the second they got up to Brendon's room. It was all Ryan could think about since it had happened Friday night, and he was sure Brendon was thinking about it too; they hadn't even brought their bags up from the car before they were making out in the hallway, walking backwards to his room, and falling over in a heap.

"Was this part of your plan in asking me to stay over?" Ryan teased, sitting up on Brendon's chest.

"Kind of," he grinned. "You know I always have ulterior motives." He held Ryan's waist. "Hey um...stay like this?" he asked in a small, curious voice.

"You mean, while we're..." Brendon nodded. "Yeah, okay."

They didn't even bother with t-shirts, just pants and boxers and Brendon helped Ryan sink back down, slowly, waiting until he was comfortable. Ryan leaned over and braced his hands on the mattress, Brendon's hands cupping over his ass, making him move.

"Ohhhh," Ryan moaned, head tilted back, throat exposed.

"You're sure you'd never done this before?" Brendon grinned. "Or are we just that good together?"

"Definitely us," Ryan breathed, and then told him to stop talking and leaned down to kiss him.

They spent the rest of the night like that, in his bed, mostly laying there and talking, until there was a second time, closer to two am, where Ryan was feeling super kinky and sucked Brendon off at the end. They lay naked, still slightly sweaty, tangled together on his bed, sleeping until ten the next morning.

But then, they had to get back to their weekly schedules, and when Ryan walked into his first class Monday morning, he just felt different. Like, his classmates could tell what he had done this week. Maybe it was paranoia, or maybe he was acting unusual. He certainly felt unusual. He found himself grinning at odd moments, not really paying attention to the lecture.

Tuesday, after his math class (where he actually did paid attention, because he knew it would impress Brendon that he had), his professor, Mrs. Mckey, had stopped him and asked him how his tutoring had been going.

"Oh um, it's been working," Ryan said awkwardly, shifting his weight. Did his face give him away or something? It wasn't like he was doodling Brendon's name on his homework.

"I would think so, you've been doing exceptionally well lately." She seemed impressed. "I think you've gained the concepts well enough where your tutor isn't needed anymore. All that's left is the final exam in two weeks, and you just need an 80 to pass the class, so I think you'll do just fine on your own. Have you ever considered a math major, Ryan?"


**
"Wait, are you serious?"

"Totally. She just pulled me aside after class today. She said I was even good enough to consider math as a major," Ryan said.

"Well, I wouldn't go that far." Brendon's face was still reading shock. "I just can't believe she cut my job because you're doing too good."

"Well, if it makes you feel better, it is all your fault." Ryan was more amused than anything. He was just happy his grades were up. And it wasn't like Brendon was going anywhere. "If I recall, you invented certain reward systems? Dude, even in the beginning, you were bribing me with sushi."

"Well that's just because I wanted to go out with you, obviously."

Ryan pointed an accused finger. "I knew it! I think I owe Spencer twenty bucks." Brendon still looked bummed. "Hey, this is okay, really. I mean, I'll still need help on my final exam review. Like she said, it's just one more test. We're just not bound by contract anymore."

"So now, were just like..." Brendon left the sentence open-ended, hoping Ryan would fill in the blank.

"Dating...?"

"I think I would still prefer tutor, but dating works."


**
So now that Saturdays were no longer used for tutoring, and the semester had only two weeks left, Brendon had declared that next Saturday a drinking night.

"That's like, the complete opposite of tutoring," Ryan said when Brendon showed up at his dorm around eight.

"I have a feeling I'll still be teaching you a thing or two, though," Brendon said, smiling. He grabbed his hand. "Come on, the party is super close tonight. Just three doors away."

"Wait...Jon's?"

"Yeah, I haven't seen him or Tom since before Thanksgiving break. It's beer pong night."

Ryan let Brendon drag him by hand out of the room and down the hall. Ryan had sort of been avoiding Jon since he'd been back; they'd catch each other in the halls and say hey, but Ryan still felt awkward about the whole thing, so he'd end the conversation as soon as possible and duck back into his room, as if Jon could see his lovestruck eyes.

There were a dozen or so people crammed into the small room already; the desk had been pulled to the middle of the room, beds pushed to the side, and a flat piece of painted wood rested on top the desk, hosting the beer pong tournament. A white dry erase board hung on the closet door, boasting top scores and who was on the waiting list for the table.

And Brendon was still holding Ryan's hand. Well, good thing Brendon wasn't so nervous about this, cause Ryan just wanted to sit in the corner and keep his head down. Jon was currently at the table but nodded to them when they walked in; he had his hand poised to shoot, and then sunk his white pong ball, hands up in triumph and high-fiving his partner.

"So how many people in this room do you know?" Brendon asked.

Ryan looked around. "Four at the most?"

"Oh man, you need to mingle. Let me introduce you to some of the best beer pongers this school has seen."

They made their rounds and each time Brendon simply said, "this is Ryan; he lives down the hall," but wouldn't let go of his hand in a completely obvious-to-everyone-in-the-room way.

Tom had come up behind Brendon and threw an arm over his shoulder, saying, "hey, how was break buddy?" then seeing Ryan there, and grinned. "So this finally happened, did it? Dude, about time. Hey, going on the table?"

"Oh yeah," Brendon said. He turned to Ryan. "Have you ever played?" Ryan shook his head. "Never? Oh man, we're definitely going next." He added their name to the list, writing bren &ry with a green marker.

Ryan was glad Brendon was well versed in beer ponging, because Ryan was definitely dragging the two of them down. His best was a shot off the rim of the cup. Brendon single handedly sunk all their opponent's cups, but not before they each had to chug three of their own. The beer was too bitter and sort of warm, but Ryan drank it anyway.

Jon and Tom approached the table next to battle the new champions, but Jon and Tom almost beat them too fast; Ryan barely had time to finish one cup before he had another waiting for him. He could feel his tongue getting fuzzy and thick, his head spinning a little. "Don't know what you're getting into, do you?" Jon had said to Ryan after their defeat, and Ryan was sure he was meaning something else.

"I suck at this," Ryan said once they were brushed away from the table. "And I..." he paused to burp, "I think I'm drunk."

"No, if you're sober enough to think you're drunk, you're not drunk."

They moved over to stand in an unpopulated corner. "So Jon doesn't seem to like me much anymore," Ryan said.

Brendon hesitated. "No, I think it's more me he's pissed at."

"Why didn't you ever tell me about him?" Ryan said, the beer making him feel brave, but somehow he knew this wouldn't be a good idea. "I know you two dated."

Brendon looked surprised, but said "I didn't think it really mattered."

"How, though? How does it not matter?" All the things Ryan had been feeling, wanting to say for weeks, the constant nagging in the back of head, were starting to come out.

"I didn't know how to tell you. Every time I wanted to have the conversation with you, it just didn't seem right. And then I decided to let it drop, because...really, it has nothing to do with us."

"Okay, then you can answer me one question, then." Ryan looked him in the eyes, everything slightly fuzzy and glossy, and then the question that was haunting Ryan for the past few weeks suddenly came rushing out. "You don't still have feelings for him, do you?"

Brendon hesitated, and for Ryan that was all he needed. "I knew it. I knew it when I saw you two after the concert, when you...when you told me he was the ex that you got back with in October."

Brendon braced his hands on Ryan's shoulders. "Ryan, listen to me. There's nothing there. Jon and I were so long ago. Remember how I said it was a mistake? And how quickly it ended? We realized we work better as friends. You've gotta believe me on this."

Ryan locked eyes with Brendon for a long moment, then looked past Brendon, over his shoulder, to see Jon staring fixedly at them. "Well he certainly still seems interested. You know what, when you get things sorted out, come talk to me." Ryan shrugged off Brendon's hands, and brushed past him, pushing through the crowd to head to the door.

"You're being really immature about this," Brendon said after him.

"Well, like you say, I am still a freshmen, after all."


**
"Hey, are you okay?"

Ryan was sprawled out on his bed, his left side hanging over the edge, his head buried in his pillow. Ryan knew it was Spencer's voice. Not Brendon. Just a slight bit of disappointment.

"Yeah, I'm fine." His voice was muffled from the pillow.

"Are you drunk?"

Ryan chuckled. "A little. Beer pong night at Jon's."

"How'd that go, you being there with Brendon?"

"Not the best." He finally turned his head and looked over at Spencer, who was kicking off his shoes and setting his bag on his desk. "What about you? Just come from Haley's?"

"Uh, no, we actually...we broke up over break."

"What?" Ryan lifted his head up. Then winced, his head pounding from the movement. "You didn't tell me."

"You've been preoccupied, I haven't seen you all week."

Ryan's head hit the pillow hard again. "Sorry. I have been a bad roommate."

"Well speaking of your aforementioned preoccupation, where is Brendon?"

Ryan shrugged. "Probably still at Jon's. Probably getting back together with him, for all I know."

"Ah, so that came out tonight."

"You know I'm really bad at beer pong?"

"I can sort of tell. If you were good, you wouldn't be as drunk."

"It was just all a bad combination, me and Brendon and Jon and beer. Why would he invite me over there?"

"Because it really, really, is over between them, that's why. Brendon wanted you all to get along and be friends."

"How do you know all of this?"

"He told me. Brendon came over here looking for you, a few afternoons ago. He's been feeling guilty he never mentioned his former-ex-slash-now-best-friend, and wanted you all to hang out so you could see that everything's fine. Brendon's crazy about you, Ryan."

Suddenly, Ryan was feeling very foolish. "Oh man, I may have overreacted tonight."

"I don't think beer pong was the best setting for Brendon's hang out, but at least he tried."

"I've got to apologize." Ryan sighed and buried his head in his pillow. "Thanks, Spencer."

"Hey, you're my best friend, Ryan. And if that means helping you and your boy toy – " Ryan flicked him off, and Spencer laughed. " – then that's what I have to do."

Ryan was feeling very grateful for Spencer. "You wanna hang out tomorrow? Pizza and Halo?"

"I've got marching band practice, but thanks for the offer." Spencer leaned back on his bed. "Just kind of tired now."

"Okay, I'll get the light." Ryan rolled over and stood, pulling the hanging string and then climbing back onto his bed. "Sorry about Haley," he added.

"It's okay, it was a long time coming." They were quiet for a moment, and then Spencer added, "It was never like the way I see Brendon look at you. You're lucky Ryan, you know that?"

Oh yeah, Ryan knew, now more than ever.


**
Ryan fought with himself all the next morning on whether he should wait for Brendon to call, or go over and apologize first. Spencer, putting him out of his misery, offered to drop him off at Brendon's on his way to band practice.

So there Ryan was, standing in front of Brendon's door, trying to muster the courage to knock.

"You know, I can see you out there." Ryan heard his voice on the other side of the door, making him jump back a little.

"This is kind of embarrassing, I feel I have to wait a proportionate amount to my level of stupidity last night."

"I should make you wait out there even longer, but you just subconsciously used math in everyday situations, so I really can't stay mad." Ryan could hear the lock turning, and the door opened.

Brendon stood there in the doorway, not talking, waiting on Ryan's first move. Ryan took a deep breath. "I'm sorry," Ryan said, looking everywhere but Brendon's face. "I overreacted. Spencer told me what you were trying to do."

When Ryan looked up, to his surprise, Brendon was smiling. "You're cute when you're feeling guilty."

"Hey, this is hard for me. I feel like an ass."

"You should; that was some bad beer pong last night." Brendon grinned, but Ryan knew he understood what he meant. Brendon pulled Ryan into his arms, and rested his head on his shoulder. "I'm sorry for not telling you sooner," he said softly.

"I understand, not really a great conversation piece there."

They stood there in the doorway embracing for a few more moments, and Ryan breathed easily, feeling very complete.


**
Ryan was feeling so at ease, in fact, that later that day, he let Brendon read his writing.


Ryan had never showed anyone his writing – not Spencer, not his father, and only a select few teachers when it was absolutely necessary. But when he wrote, it just felt right in his mind, probably the way Brendon felt when he was figuring out complicated formulas. Still, like most writers he didn't seem to think he was any good, so when Brendon asked if he could read one of his stories, it had taken a lot for Ryan to say yes.

They were sitting at Brendon's kitchen table, Ryan refusing to leave so he could watch Brendon's facial expressions as he read. Kind of like the way Brendon hovered at tutoring, so now he said it was just getting even. Every time Brendon smiled or laughed Ryan was just itching to know what part he was at, what lines were the funniest, or what seemed awkward.

Finally, he was at the last page, the last sentence, the last word, and he set the paper down. He hated it. Ryan could see it. His boyfriend hated his writing.

"Ryan...this is...you're really talented, you know that?"

Ryan's eyes widened. "You like it?"

"It's brilliant. The way you use these metaphors, I never knew you could write like this, this is so layered, and...why haven't you shown this to anyone?"

"It's really that good?" Ryan was beaming.

"I'm kind of amazed at you right now. You know, I have a friend that works for the campus literary journal..."

"Oh, I don't know about that."

"No, at the end of the year they highlight the best student writing at each level, and for the freshmen, I'm sure this will make it. Why not just go for it?"

Ryan hesitated, his mind forming an idea. "Okay, I'll submit it." Brendon grinned. "But –if I do that, then...you have to play your music in front of a crowd."

"Ryan, that's a little different..."

"No, it's putting yourself out there just as much as I am. What did you just say to me – why not just go for it? You're talented too, and I know you know it. If I'm sticking my neck out on the line, then you have to do it with me."

Ryan could see that Brendon was thinking it over, and then said, "So what are the specifics of this agreement?"

"How about on Saturday the 19th, the last day of the semester, at the 305 downtown, where we saw Vegas Limit. And tomorrow, I will personally hand in a copy of my story for submission."

Brendon looked at him, smirked, and then said, "You've got yourself a deal."


**
Ryan knew he was getting off easier than Brendon; he just had to submit a story, let a few people read it, and get an email saying he was rejected. But Brendon was putting a lot of effort into his half of the deal; he had already called the venue, and he had a half hour slot for the 19th, two Saturdays from then, at eight o'clock.

Classes were in their final week; Ryan was busy studying for his math final while Brendon rehearsed songs (telling Ryan he was lucky he was already finished with his thesis hours for the semester). Ryan was sitting at Brendon's kitchen table, math book and review packet in front of him, and it felt weird doing this on his own. Brendon was in his room; Ryan could hear his singing and acoustic strumming. It was incredibly distracting, mostly because it sounded so amazing, but he didn't want to go anywhere else to do homework.

"Hey Brendon, what's the equation for graphing a parabola again?" Ryan yelled from the table.

"4px equals y squared, come on Ryan, I'm trying to practice."

Ryan pouted. He didn't see why, Brendon sounded just fine to him. "I need heeeellppp," Ryan whined. "What kind of tutor are you?"

"I'm not your tutor anymore, remember?" Brendon said, but he was coming out of his room anyway, his black acoustic in his hand.

"Yes, but you're still a math nerd, and I thought you said you'd never turn down an opportunity to talk numbers?"

Brendon sighed. "My love of math prevails once again. Scoot over." He set down his guitar and joined Ryan at the table. "What problem are you on?"

Ryan loved getting his way.


**
"Should I move to a G chord here? Or D?" Brendon asked, strumming each on his guitar.

It was late Friday night, the last day of classes before finals, and Brendon's gig was in a week. He was leaning back against his bed, guitar in lap, Ryan lying by his side. "Hmm, G sounds more natural, but it's your song."

Brendon hummed a melody, strumming chords, fiddling with different tempos. He was humming most of the tune, just singing words here and there, phrases like we were holding hands walking through the middle of the street, and take a chance, take your shoes off, dance in the rain.

"Any other lyrics yet?" Ryan asked.

"Work in progress. You'll hear it Saturday." Brendon said. "Oh by the way, I talked to my friend at the lit journal, and he likes your story."

Ryan perked up. "Yeah?"

"Yep. Nothing's definite yet, but he says you've got a good chance."

"Oh man." It wasn't even final, but Ryan's heart started beating faster. "That's so awesome."

"Alright shhh over there, you're the one making me perform, I've got to finish this."

"You know, if it's lyrics that you need, I've written some. Or, a lot, actually. A whole notebook full."

"So we're gonna make this a songwriting duo?" Brendon smiled at the idea.

"Hey, I figured you're always helping me, I need some way to reciprocate."

"I can think of other ways to reciprocate," Brendon lifted his guitar and set it on the floor.

"Are you using me for my body?" Ryan asked when Brendon scooted in closer to him.

"Maybe. Do you mind?"

"Not at all."


**
Ryan had to spend most of the weekend studying, and by Monday night, Brendon was holding Ryan's review sheet and quizzing him, for one final night of tutoring. Except, the reward system seemed more like punishment than anything. Brendon was lying over Ryan's chest, kissing his neck, his jaw, his collar, and still Ryan was supposed to remember the process for multiplying equations?

"It's, ah...first, outer...shit Brendon, I can't think like this."

"If you can do math under these conditions, you can do math under any condition."

Ryan closed his eyes and blocked him out and recited the formula, and Brendon beamed. "Correct."

They went on like that, each question going farther – taking off his pants, his boxers, then a lazy hand to soft kisses, to –

His tongue. Brendon stopped, and asked the last question, something about functions, and dammit, Ryan hated functions. Right now math was so far from his mind; it was all Brendon's soft, wet tongue, his breath fanning against his skin, his hand holding him loosely, waiting for an answer to continue. Functions, functions. Okay, he could do this. He mentally scanned his notes, thinking back over the day that he and Brendon had gone over them, and he could remember what Brendon had said about them, and gave him an answer, hoping it was right.

Brendon didn't reply with words, instead he felt his wet, cool mouth wrapping around him. If Ryan was sure of anything, it was that a semester of work was paying off right now. Brendon took him deep, much deeper than Ryan could've thought possible, his tongue doing this awesome swirling thing and Ryan wasn't sure how long it went on for, but eventually, he was thrusting upwards, his body tense, and holy shit, Brendon was taking it all in, coaxing Ryan through his high, smoothing his hands on Ryan's thighs as he came back down.

"Hhmmm, I think you'll do just fine tomorrow," Brendon said.



**
Ryan's exam was harder than any quiz or test he'd had before, and in the same way he was grateful for Brendon's help, he was cursing him, because he was extremely distracted with thoughts of the night before, and used the entire two hours to finish forty computer questions. Only plus side was that it would be graded then and there, and Brendon promised sushi if he made the 80% that he needed.

Ryan nervously clicked the last answer, then got the "are you sure you want to submit?" screen, impatiently clicked yes, and waited for the page to load.

34/40. No other score was on the page; it just had a tally of correct vs. incorrect answers, showing him what he missed, but Ryan could care less about what the right answers were – he'd just spent two hours doing math, so why couldn't he figure out 34 out of 40 in his head?

Okay. 2.5 points each, 6 questions wrong, so 15 points off....85. He passed. Ryan grinned, and let it sink in. He passed. Whew. He practically ran out of the classroom, he was so happy.

Ryan almost tripped when he saw him standing there, leaning against his silver Toyota, waiting for him. Brendon smiled, and stood straight, walking towards him.

"Jeez, talk about romantic gestures," Ryan said, but he couldn't stop grinning.

"Nothing until I hear a number."

"34 out of 40," Ryan said, knowing Brendon would get the percentage immediately. Not surprisingly, Brendon grinned. What was a surprise was Brendon cupping Ryan's face and kissing him in the middle of campus.

"Brendon, we're feet from the building where all of your colleagues work, not to mention my math teacher, who knows you're my tutor –"

"Not your tutor anymore, remember?" He winked. "Come on, I'm itching for tempura. It's our last Miso's trip of the semester, and I'm starving."


**
Vagnus Nerve was the name of the UNLV literary journal; their "Year In Review" issue came out on the Friday of finals week, and Brendon had taken careful steps to make sure Ryan was in the dark on whether he made it in or not. He was in his dorm, packing it up for the semester (it surprised him how little time he had spent in it in the last month, but then again, so many things had changed in just the last month, not being in his dorm was the least surprising). Actually having to pack everything was making this whole leaving thing seem more real; he wasn't sure what he was going to do for three weeks at home.

Naturally, Ryan was feeling a little down when Brendon knocked on his door that afternoon, but when he saw what Brendon had in his hand, he immediately perked up. Brendon had a smile on his face, and he wouldn't be smiling to tell him bad news, right? But there was no way he was published, just like that. The glossy cover of Vagnus Nerve, sporting a black and white photo as abstract as the title, was staring him in the face, a small box in the corner boasting the "Best Student Writing Fall 2008."

Ryan practically yanked it out of his hand, opened to the table of contents, and let out a yelp. First name on the page was his. His name, his story title, his words, in print. He couldn't speak, just gawk, but his first reaction was wrapping his arms around Brendon, squeezing him.

"This is because of you, you know," Ryan said as Brendon chuckled and hugged him back. "I would have never done this on my own."

"I know."

"You believed in me. You told me I could do it."

"And I was right."

"I still can't believe this isn't some joke –"

"That would be quite elaborate, even for me."

Ryan released him and flipped through the pages, finding his story, getting goose bumps at seeing his words in an actual journal. His day seemed better already. That, and Brendon was here now.


**
The next morning, Saturday the 19th, was spent pacing, changing, warming up, fine-tuning, and freaking out. Ryan had no idea Brendon would be so nervous for this. "Did I tell you my mom is coming down to watch? Yeah. I just, I'm thinking about cutting that one song, it's just not ready –"

"Hey hey, relax. Everything's going to be fine. Do you know how good you are? Seriously. People are going to have their jaws on the floor."

Brendon smiled. "You know how you say you didn't get your story published without me? Well I definitely, definitely couldn't do this without you."

"Hmm well good thing I'm here."

Brendon was straightening his black skinny tie in the mirror; that, paired with a white button down and blue jeans and the standard black frames, was the planned attire for the evening. When he asked Ryan what he thought, he'd said, "Believe me, you couldn't be more hipster if you tried," and then Brendon pulled out the flowered guitar strap, proving Ryan wrong.

"Hey, are you ready to go?" Brendon asked, putting his guitar in his case.

"Yeah, I was waiting for you." They were going to a big group dinner before the show, a nice place that Brendon's mom had booked because she was that excited, and she told Brendon to invite everyone he knew. Which included Ryan and Spencer and Jon and Tom, for sure, and also the guys in Vegas Limit, plus a few of his fellow colleagues. And being the guest of honor, he couldn't be late.

Or, they'd be fashionably late, as the traffic in and out of Vegas put them twenty minutes behind. A round table of twelve was all seated and waiting, saying a collective heyy!! to Brendon when he walked in.

There were two seats left for them, and as Ryan took his seat, he saw Jon directly on his right. "Oh, hi," he said, and gave a small wave, before turning talk to Spencer. Underneath the table, Brendon found Ryan's hand, and Ryan squeezed it once.

Fortunately, table talk consisted of the show that was about to happen, of final grades and projects, of holiday plans. Then, as things were winding down, Jon put his arm around Ryan's chair, leaned in close, and said, "So you and Brendon, huh?"

Ryan's pulse raced. He grabbed his water cup, and said, "Um, yeah," before taking a sip, like it was no big deal.

To his surprise, Jon was chuckling. "Listen, I know you've felt uncomfortable around me lately, it doesn't take someone with Brendon's IQ to figure that out. I've been meaning to talk to you about it, to tell you it's okay. I think you're perfect for him, actually. We've tried that route, more than once, and it's meant to be friends with us. I knew it would happen for you two ever since the night after the concert. So, don't feel weird around me. I still think you're a cool kid. And we're still friends?" He gave Ryan a hopeful smile.

Ryan actually smiled back. "Yeah, friends. I'd like that." Jon patted his back with a smile. Relief washed over Ryan. But next to him, Brendon's leg was bouncing. It was forty minutes till eight.

On the way to the venue, Ryan filled Brendon in on what happened with Jon, and he said, "Yeah, I know, we talked earlier this week. He's been meaning to talk with you. Why do you think everyone was seated like that?"

They arrived at the venue with just enough time to spare for Brendon to warm up and play a few songs for Ryan in the dressing room before he went on. Then, he got the call telling him he was on next.

"Okay, I'm going to watch from the crowd. You'll do great." A kiss for luck, and Ryan left backstage to join Brendon's supporters and wait for him to start.

It was a nice sized crowd, actually; some people were still there from the guy who'd performed before Brendon, a few were just interested in the bar area, but a good group, including Brendon's mom in the front row, were waiting eagerly to cheer him on. Ryan weaseled his way through the crowd, going to stand by Brendon's mom, and she put her arm around Ryan and squeezed his shoulder.

A guy came out to set up Brendon's mic, and then announced his name, the crowd reacting in cheers (his mom actually whistled through her fingers). Brendon walked out, grinning, nodding at the crowd, guitar slung around his neck.

"Oh, look at all you fine people," Brendon said as he approached the mic. He was a total natural at this. Ryan's grin was ear to ear.

"I'm going to play some songs for you, if that's okay," he said, and launched right into his first song. It was upbeat and melodic, singing about hummingbirds and tire swings. The next one was a folksy tune, Ryan's favorite, about summers lasting longer than we do, and by then Brendon was totally owning it, getting into character, not a single nerve showing. He met Ryan's eyes and winked, giving him a great big smile. He even asked the bartender what it would take to get him a beer onstage, and one was promptly brought to him.

He played a few cover songs, two from the Beatles and one from Sublime, getting the crowd to sing along. "Are you guys having fun?" he asked, to which Tom yelled out, "Shut up and play!" Brendon flicked him off, but then started his next song. As soon as he heard the opening chords, Ryan knew it was the new song he'd been working on, and Ryan clapped and cheered, showing Brendon he was glad he kept it in. It was a short one, filled in with some of the lyrics Ryan had provided, and Ryan had never felt so proud. It was strange how good his words sounded out of Brendon's mouth, all velvety smooth and soft, his tinge of vibrato on the long notes. When that one ended, Ryan saw Brendon give a sigh of relief that he'd gotten through it in one piece.

"So, this next one," he said, picking up his beer and taking a sip. "Was written for someone in the crowd tonight, but they have no idea."

The people around Ryan nudged him and smiled, but all Ryan could do was stare at Brendon in shock. Brendon was purposely refusing to look down at him.

"It's about someone very special, someone I've fallen in love with over the past few weeks. So uh, I hope you like it."

Oh no. Brendon was not announcing his love for the first time on stage, in front of a crowd of people. And in song form. Ryan had never heard this song, not even in practice; he must have been doing it in secret, hiding it from Ryan, which seemed near impossible since they've spent almost the last two weeks entirely together, and Ryan just needed to stop thinking and listen. It was a beautiful slow-tempo song, with all that mushy love stuff, a little cheesy, but that was Brendon's style, and hey, who else in here had their own song? Ryan's heart was ready to burst, watching him play, listening to words inspired by himself. And oh, how he loved him back, and how he couldn't wait to tell him.

The song finished, and the ones that knew what it meant were cheering the loudest. Brendon said, "thank you so much," and finally looked down at Ryan. A grin was all they could share for now, but Ryan was sure there was love for that grinning fool seeping from his pores.

"So, that song was about someone that, without, tonight wouldn't have been possible. Thank you all for coming out tonight, you really don't know how much this has meant to me. Drive safe and uh...this is my last song."

Ryan wanted to stay and watch, but he wanted to be waiting for him backstage more. He slipped out of the crowd, and went to wait in the sidelines.

Brendon played out the last few chords longer, strumming as the crowd cheered louder and louder. "Thanks and goodnight, you're beautiful." He slung off his guitar, and turned and headed towards Ryan.

Brendon's smile was so big, walking quickly to Ryan and setting his guitar down fast, and Ryan jumped into his arms. He was sweaty, his white shirt soaked, but Ryan didn't care, he clung to him and wrapped his legs around him and Brendon stumbled forward, trying to keep a hold of him, laughing.

Brendon kept walking until Ryan's back hit a wall and he stayed wrapped in his embrace, feet hooked around his waist, his hands on Brendon's face and saying, "I love you too," before kissing him.

Brendon held Ryan under his thighs, kissing him back, both of them needing air but needing each other more, their love so big and grand in this moment, Ryan pulling frantically at Brendon's shirt, Brendon moaning and squeezing Ryan's thighs, practically clawing at him.

It wasn't until Spencer, Jon and Tom came rushing up that they finally broke away, Brendon setting Ryan back on the ground, both of them finally taking in long gulps of air. They all congratulated him, told him how great he sounded, how at ease he was, how he needed to do this again. His mom hugged him even tighter than Ryan and said how proud she was; when they walked through the venue later most of the lingering crowd praised him, and Ryan felt like he was getting a contact high just being near him.


**
Then, a spontaneous after party broke out at Brendon's apartment; someone had said something about a keg and then Jon said he'd grab his pong table, and then an hour later fifty or so people were stuffed into Brendon's tiny living room. Brendon had to mingle and play the host, but Ryan was just fine being a guest, chatting with Brendon's friends, until he'd felt a pull on his arm, and then Brendon saying, "come with me."

He pulled him back into his bedroom before anyone could really notice, pushing him back against the door the second it had closed. He kissed him hurriedly, then muttered, "clothes off," while stripping himself down.

Ryan grinned. "Isn't anyone going to notice?"

"This can't wait."

Brendon pushed him back towards the bed; Ryan landed sideways and almost hanging off the edge, but Brendon was over him a second later, their legs tangling, the sheet bunched awkwardly under Ryan's back. He laced his fingers with Ryan's and held on for support, and a second later they were arching together, joined, threatening to spill off the bed. Ryan tipped his head back and shut his eyes, Brendon whispering I love you over his skin as his lips slid across his chest.

Someone knocked on the door a minute later, Brendon yelled go away and Ryan laughed. "No one's going to notice, huh?"

"Oh well." Brendon ran his hands through Ryan's hair.

"When did you write that song?" Ryan asked.

"You really want to talk about this now?"

"Can't multitask?"

Brendon kissed his ear and chuckled. "While you were in your math final. Had to keep it under wraps."

"It was amazing."

"You're amazing." He shifted and grunted, then said, "Okay are we done talking now?"

"Lips sealed." Brendon held his hips, hitching Ryan higher. Ryan just smiled lazily and gripped the slipping sheets, not caring if they slipped off the bed with them. He wasn't thinking about how tomorrow he had to leave and go back home for break, how Brendon wouldn't be just right down the road, how they couldn't have drunk Saturdays or sushi dates. But somehow, he knew they'd work something out, because they always seemed to make things work. He was thinking, though, about the first time he met Brendon, and how he should have just known then, how he had exceeded every expectation he ever had for his math tutor, and how he needed to be failing math to figure out how to fall in love.



End