FEVERISH [RYDEN] [REPOST]

MAKE SCENTS

AUTHOR NOTE: QUICK TW FOR EATING DISORDERS HERE,SUPER BRIEF

Ryan got up to the sound of the coffee machine.

Brendon's sheets were thrown to the side, his spot cold. Ryan ran a hand through his hair and yawned, moving towards the kitchen.

Brendon was leaned over the counter in his boxers, his head down, his Sidekick open in one hand.

"Bren?"

"They broke up."

Ryan's face went slack.

"What?"

It felt like a punch in the gut. Like all the wind had been knocked out of him, and he staggered a bit.

"Pete and Mikey Way. They- they're over."

Ryan's eyes widened.

How could two people- who were so in love- dissipate over the course of a week? He met them- he knew them- he saw them together- he saw their pirated glances and their touches that supposedly belonged to someone else.

Granted, he was there when they fought- he flew six fucking hours to be in the general vicinity- but wasn't that a good sign? That they would go any distance to make amends.

"Fuck."

Brendon slid a coffee over to Ryan. Brendon looked tired. Brendon liked Mikey.

"How's Pete taking it?"

"Like he's about to jump off a bridge."

Ryan disapproved of that analogy, especially considering Pete's history, but as he glanced at the circles under Brendon's eyes he shoved his words down his throat.

"Can I have a sip of your coffee?"

"You have your own."

Brendon's mug was still full. And steaming.

"Yours is caffeinated."

Some things never change.

Brendon downed it in a gulp, causing Ryan to have to reach for Brendon's mug.

"You wanna-"

Brendon looked over at Ryan.

"You wanna go for breakfast?"

Brendon paused.

"Yeah. Um, Sure. We should probably- uh-"

Brendon gestured aimlessly around the apartment, slightly askew after last night's events.

Ryan nodded, a slight knot in his throat. Brendon moved towards the window, wincing as he walked, throwing open the curtains.

Is this what your twenties is supposed to be like?

Ryan watched him, paralyzed, as Brendon methodically moved around the apartment, picking up their strewn clothes.

"What?"

Brendon had noticed the way Ryan was staring, drinking him in. He furrowed his brow slightly, wrinkling his forehead, and Ryan looked away- almost in slow motion, abashedly.

"Nothing."

Brendon turned back, apparently oblivious to what had just happened, Ryan moving to look at the ceiling as light spilled into the room as Brendon moved.

It filled him up, trickled through his pores and slipped over his tongue and down his throat, the warm golden-yellow, the sunlight, the unimportant importance of a single glance and that feeling- that feeling in his chest- that unnecessary teenage need-to-know of 'so, what are we?'