FEVERISH [RYDEN] [REPOST]

REVELATIONS

Ryan's head was still in his hands when the bus door opened.

It was quiet, barely, seeping in the noise of stifled laughter and ground-down misery.

He stood, his hand trailing on the curtain, skimming the fabric.

He froze.

Brendon was bringing a girl onto the bus.

He listened, intently, the lack of light masking him by the velveteen curtain.

He offered her a coke.

Ryan's heart was beating in his chest, the feeling reverberating against his sternum.

The minifridge opened, casting a soft fluorescent light around them.

Ryan could see Brendon, kneeling, peering into the shelves for her drink of choice. The yellow-white light wove in his eyelashes, reflecting on his skin, tearing through the eyes that had dried.

She stood not far behind him, the hem of her dress muddy.

She was not a scene girl.

She had barely any makeup on, this was true, and she wore pastel silk that folded over her ankles.

She didn't seem like Brendon's type.

But then again, what did Ryan know about Brendon's type?

"You want ice?"

"I'm good."

This is not your place, Ryan. He thought. Go to your bunk, you do not want to see this.

He watched, entranced, as Brendon pulled out the can, handing it to her. He placed a hand on her back, guiding her to the couch ever-so-slowly, his hand reassuring and strong, taking care of her.

Jealousy burned in Ryan's stomach.

He took a deep breath and stepped out of the shadows.

"Brendon."

Brendon turned with a sharp intake of breath, meeting Ryan's eyes. His hand did not leave the girl's dress.

The girl's hands were shaking.

"Aliyah," Brendon said, his voice collected. "Have a seat."

"Brendon, who is thi-" Ryan started, ready to fight.

"I can't do this now."

"Brendon, you need to ask before you bring someone on our bus."

The girl closed her eyes, serene, taking a shaky breath.

"Ryan, I-"

"What?"

It came out sharp.

"I don't have to listen to anything you say."

Brendon pushed past him, pushing the curtain aside and going to gather his blankets. He returned, dumping them on the couch, his eyes carefully trained on Ryan, waiting to see what he would do.

He kept watching him as he beckoned her to the couch.

"I'll sit with you until you fall asleep, Aliyah."

Ryan raised an eyebrow.

"I need to speak with you, Brendon."

Their politeness was venom, a poison killing them from the inside, a bomb waiting to detonate.

"Do it in the morning."

"I'll do it now."

He took a step towards him, making dead eye contact.

"I need a word."

Brendon's ears were flushed, his hands trembling slightly.

"I'll be okay here, Brendon," Aliyah said, her voice soft and reassuring, in tune with a melody they could not hear.

"Two minutes."

Brendon pushed past Ryan, opening the bus door with a little too much force, causing Spencer to stir in his bunk.

He rolled over and fell asleep as his two bandmates stood outside the bus, one with his arms crossed, one begging for something in his body to take control.

"What, Ryan? What the everloving fuck do you want?"

His voice came out as more of a growl than he intended.

"Who is she?"

"A friend!"

"Bullshit!"

"Why does it matter?"

There was a pause.

"Are you jealous? Are you fucking jealous of me? You won't let me want you but you won't let me want anyone else? What the fuck is this?"

His voice rose in pitch as he ranted, anxiety and anger filtering in, making a dangerous cocktail.

"Why is she here, Brendon?"

Three.

Two.

One.

Boom.

"Because she tried to fucking kill herself!"

His voice raised, stunning Ryan into silence.

He softened as Brendon turned, avoiding his gaze.

"What?"

"She tried to-"

Brendon leaned against the bus for support, trying not to make eye contact.

"She was at the park I walked to. And I was sitting there, and I was crying, and she came out and talked to me. And I offered for her to hang out tonight, and she said no and went back to her car, and five minutes later she came out sobbing and dumped all her pills in the parking lot and said she would come with us after all."

"So you brought her here."

"Yes."

Ryan leaned forward and pulled Brendon into a hug, burying his head in his shoulder.

It took Brendon a moment before he relaxed, and then he took it, wrapping his hands around Ryan as well.

"Brendon."

His voice, murmuring, was hot on Brendon's t-shirt, weaving in the fabric, his lips making contact with the only barrier from bare skin.

"I want you to want me- I just, I just don't know how."

"You don't know how?"

"I'm trying. I swear."

Brendon pushed him away at arm's length, starting to cry again.

"Just don't call me meaningless, Ry. I'm sick of people saying I'm mea-"

Ryan pushed forward and kissed him, stopping his words with his mouth, his hands shifting towards Brendon's hair. He threaded his hands in his hair, and once Brendon recovered from the shock, he kissed back, and they kissed and kissed and kissed until Brendon was against the side of the bus and Ryan was holding him there, kissing up and down his neck before he pulled away, his pupil's blown and breathing heavily, and then he kissed him once more before glancing towards the bus.

"You did the right thing, Brendon."

And Brendon, his eyes fixated on Ryan's lips, uttered the two words, heavy and assured.

"I know."