12b: Bring It Back
The air was thick, blowing around clouds of cigarette everywhere. People were crowded into a line, some in groups or some in pairs. Brendon on the other hand was standing alone, his back against the brick alley walls - also known as the entrance to the dance club Krave.
He watched the men as they passed, eyes narrowed as he looked. Tall, short, blonde, raven, thick, thin. Brendon took a drag from his cigarette, slowly inhaling and exhaling with every third beat of music. He’d taken up smoking at some point; he wasn’t sure when. All he knew was that it felt good.
“Hey baby!”
Turning his head, Brendon looked up into the navy blue eyes of a blonde male. “Not interested.” He said flatly, fate rid of emotions as he faced forwards again. The older man scoffed and walked away. He wasn’t sure why, but his older interests seemed to slowly fade. The yellow haired boys that once made him hard now seemed so plain.
Suddenly, Brendon saw something to finally catch his eye. Without a word, or even an expression on his torn face, Brendon walked towards a tall brunette boy with short layered and straight hair. He stomped out his cigarette against the ground on his way, brushing his hair out of his eyes. It was starting to get long, but he didn’t care anymore.
The man had a sharp jaw and a buttoned nose, along with soft brown eyes (something of which could have come as a bonus). Brendon looked the man up and down before nodding towards his bright orange (and now old) car. The man with familiar features - something Brendon denied in his head - smirked, saying “Let’s go.”
Brendon had no intention of taking the man to the circus; he refused to defile Ryan’s memory like that, even if he was too bitter to realize why he wouldn’t. He drove faster, the man giggling beside him all the way to an old inn he had often used when he was even younger. He paid for a room for the night and led the man he had picked up to the bedroom.
As soon as they entered the room, Brendon pressed the man to the door and pressed their lips together, feverishly working on removing clothing. The man suddenly pulled away and Brendon’s eyes narrowed dangerously as he spoke, “Don’t you want to know my name?”
Brendon jerked open the man’s shirt and ran his fingers over his chest, glaring slightly, “No, I’d rather you shut the hell up,” he snarled before pressing their lips together again.
*****
“Will you get your fucking hands off of me?!” Brendon spat, jerking out of his makeup chair.
He looked around his room, hating everything around him. It had been three years and he still hated all of it. The hired makeup artist sucked, his stylist was shit, and he hated getting ready in his own bedroom.
“Brendon, if you just sit down I -“
“No! You’re fired! Get the hell out of my room!”
Hearing the obvious shouting, Kristina entered the room looking completely worn out by Brendon. He’d been a total wreck for the past couple of years; ordering people around, staying out late on his sexual escapades, not coming up with anything new for the show. It was starting to tear everyone apart.
“You have a show in twenty minutes, Brendon, so for God’s sake just let her do your makeup!”
Why the hell did it even matter? The shows were not the same; nothing was. All his acts had gotten worn out as he had honestly stopped caring. Even the attention was hardly worth the mind numbing pain he suffered day in and day out. So, Brendon moved and tore his lighted mirror off of the wall, sending it smashing down over his desk, onto his floor and even sending shards of glass into his makeup box. The mess was nothing compared to the loud crash it made when colliding, though.
“Are you out of your mind?!” Kristina looked now even more furious than Brendon did, which made it more of a game. He let out a half hearted laugh, running thin fingers through his matted black hair. The room started to heat up, air stifling to an irritating degree with Brendon’s anger.
“Screw off,” he responded, glancing back at the makeup artist. She looked simply terrified, practically in tears, which made him laugh more. Brendon picked up the kit and looked back at Kristina. “I’ll do it myself.”
He brushed the glass off the box and ignored Kristina’s pleads for him to come back. Did they really have that much doubt in him? As Brendon left, the heat traveled with him too.
There was really only one place that Brendon wanted to be. He’d avoided even looking at Ryan’s old tent, but he refused to let it be torn down as well. Stopping in front of the doors, he swallowed nervously. Suddenly his stomach churned, his normally steady hands trembling too. Still, he reached for the door knob and opened the door, fighting the way his heart pounded against his chest or the memories that flooded his mind. When the door opened though, nothing could stop the feeling anymore. A wide smile spread over his face automatically.
The room was the same except for the cold and empty chill that now lingered. It was lifeless and dull without the younger man, despite the brightly coloured walls and furniture. Brendon stood in the doorway for several minutes, picturing how many times he’d walk in to see Ryan moping in bed (Though Brendon never recognized it as moping, he certainly did now).
Then, Brendon started to remember seeing Ryan gathering his clothes on New Years Eve. How had he not known something so obvious? Maybe because Brendon was so wrapped up in himself at the time, he never paid attention to anyone but himself. But now he hardly even thought about himself, unless he thought of his own misery. Brendon just simply and greatly wanted Ryan to come back, and he didn’t know why.
It got harder and harder with each step Brendon took into the room. The feel of the carpet under his socks, the way the door creaked in a familiar way, the way the bed was still made the same as Ryan had left it. Pillows lay neatly on top of the blankets, sheets folded in tight at the edges. Brendon sat on the edge, smoothing out some of the wrinkles before letting out a tiny sigh.
There was his desk; how many times had Brendon sat at it? Legs crossed on over the other, hands folded in his lap as he tried his hardest to sit still; Ryan leaned over him, stroking the brush over his eyes and making him look like the most beautiful being in the world. His hair falling in his eyes, Ryan continuously was flicking it away in that cute and innocent way. The way their eyes would occasionally meet.
Once before Brendon had left, there was an odd lingering moment where their eyes had connected like always. But there was something about it, something strange and unique that sent shivers through his spine; a spark that was never set off inside him; the sort of connection that made him bite down on his lip and stare back. What the hell did it all mean?
Looking up at the clock, Brendon’s eyes went wide at the fact that he had only five minutes left. He jumped up and crawled to Ryan’s desk, slipping into the chair and opening the makeup kit. He gave himself eyeliner and simple blue shadows; it was a mess but Brendon didn’t care. The way the chair felt under his fingers, the way the lights shone down on his face. Brendon could practically feel Ryan’s light breath hot against the back of his neck…
*****
Brendon prepared himself at Ryan’s entrance, eyes shut tight as he grasped onto the boys sharp hips. His nails sunk into his hipbone, leaving tiny little scarlet, crescent moons later. Letting out a small moan he slid himself inside, pressing Ryan up against the bedroom wall of the inn. Neither of them said a word; all that was heard was the insignificant cars zooming by the rooms. The occasional light from street lamps would work their way through the room, other wise it was completely dark.
He placed the palm of his hands to Ryan’s back, gasping as he felt the muscles tightening against his cock. Rain from outdoors beat against the windows and music was blaring from the stereos. Brendon thrusted against each beat, moving quick and hard as he slid in all the way. He knew he wasn’t going to last long. Leaning forwards, he pressed his chest against Ryan’s naked back, putting his hands against the wall now as he moved.
His hair smelled fresh like soap; Brendon nuzzled at the hair against the back of Ryan’s neck, feeling it prickle against his cheek. It felt so good, so soft, so comfortable, and so right. There was nothing but this beautiful vision in front of him, moaning and gasping at his every thrust as he was pinned up against the wall. It was bliss. Brendon thrusted harder as he was intending to make the man before him melt.
Murmuring nothing, Brendon placed kisses against the skin of Ryan’s back. He felt an orgasm about to tear through him, and he was so glad for it. Grinding his hips against the younger man’s tight ass, Brendon made sure to hit the bundle of nerves within. He moaned, he gasped, he shook, and he trembled, his fingertips practically burning with delight. Brendon balled his hands into fists against his shoulder blades, eyes still welded shut.
“Oh… fuck…” Brendon murmured, fists scraping against his shoulders; the orgasm was coming, he could feel it ever so slowly inching through his body; any second now. “Fuck…” he grunted, pulling his head back as his mouth opened on reaction to a pleasurable shock. “Oh… fuck… Ryan…”
“What?!” That was when Brendon snapped out of it. He opened his mouth to say something to the stranger bellow him, completely shocked. “I’m not Ryan, I’m Zac!” the man continued, sounding utterly confused.
Pulling out quickly, Brendon tore the condom off of his now soft penis and bent down, pulling his pants back up. “Yeah… yeah whatever…” he said, still rather shocked himself. Doing up his belt, he glanced up into the brown eyes of the practical stranger. All he could see was Ryan’s beautiful features flashing before his eyes. “Get out.”
“What… why? Don’t you wanna -“
“I said - Get - Out.” Brendon’s eyes were flashing dangerously with flames; nostrils flared as he grabbed the man’s t-shirt and threw it at him. Then he found his own tight black shirt and threw it against the bed before shoving the man towards the door.
“Fine! Fine, fuck!”
How the hell did that happen? Ryan? Where did that come from? Why did Brendon call out his name? It didn’t make any sense. No, it wasn’t really happening… was it? Brendon shoved the man, pushing him out the front door and throwing his jacket at him. Then he slammed the door as the man yelled “Fuck you!” on the way.
Sinking down to his knees, Brendon curled up against the door he slammed. Why did Ryan make his mind toss and turn so much? It had been three fucking years; Brendon had hit his 27th age point and still the stupidly adorable, innocent, beautiful, perfectly silent… “FUCK.” Brendon screamed for what seemed the tenth time that night. He kicked the floor hard in frustration, tears uncontrollably tearing down his cheeks.
Reaching into the back pocket of his jeans, Brendon pulled out his wallet. It was just over midnight now; he realized this by looking up at the digital clock on the nightstand. Inside his wallet he pulled out a small card:
Happy 24th Birthday, Ryan.
“Happy birthday…” he whispered to no one.
*****
It didn’t make sense. Brendon had been trying oh so hard to stop thinking - but really it was impossible. For two years he’d been purposefully picking up younger men with Ryan’s features, picturing the way soft waves would crash in his eyes, his chewed down finger nails, his cold touch too. He’d never thought so seriously (or as much) about anyone in his whole life. What made Ryan so different?
Oh stage the number of eyes on Brendon was slowly lessened. Maybe it was his bagged eyes or his scratched face; or maybe his scruffy untamed hair; Brendon hardly even wore his beautiful makeup again. It reminded him too much of what he wanted to let go of, just like the red hand-crafted circus jacket. Though Brendon was still made to wear it; it was practically his trade mark.
Back in Brendon’s bedroom, the sound of acoustic guitar flooded around him. The air was thick with heat in the middle of winter, thanks to him. He was playing a song, random words spilling out in no pattern. It was sort of like he was speaking to no one - it was his new method of thinking. Thinking about Ryan, thinking about where he was, what he could be doing, who he had become.
He was hardly sure of what he was thinking anymore. Pretty soon Brendon’s vision was blurred by thick tears of despair and regret. That kiss on New Years back in 2002… maybe it meant something. Maybe the ways he treated him were unfair. After all, when Ryan had attempted suicide all Brendon did was think of how he felt. Not how Ryan felt.
Really, Brendon knew nothing about how Ryan grew up. He never bothered to even ask; though he never let Ryan know about his true self either. No one knew the dangerous events that occurred in his early years: Julien, his parents, Bella, Brendon, endless nights of covering his ears and trying to ignore the horrid sounds. No one would ever know because Brendon wouldn’t think about it.
No matter how much he tried, Brendon was not going to get away from it: his nightmares or his thoughts. He could deny it until the day he died but inside he knew he physically needed the brown-eyed beauty (even though he didn’t know why). Not knowing what the need even meant, Brendon didn’t know if he even wanted to know. To know why Ryan was lodged in his head for so long, and to know why he was so miserable without him.
Putting down his maple wood guitar, Brendon silently wandered through his tent. It was just past midnight now and everyone was fast asleep. Digging into his bottom drawer, Brendon pulled out a tiny teddy bear that had been dyed blue. Running his fingers slowly over the crystal eyes, he couldn’t help but smile at how cold they were. He let out a soft laugh before his face fell back to a depressed frown.
Every so often this is what Brendon did when he couldn’t sleep. He stood in his dimly lit room, naked except for a pair of thick grey sweat pants. His hair was messed and there was old black eyeliner collecting and smudging at the corners of his eyes. With his free hand Brendon played with his hair, sighing quietly under his breath.
Moving soon from one tent to the other, Brendon pulled a tiny key from within the bears t-shirt pocket and unlocked Ryan’s tent door. He was the only one with a key now, and Brendon wouldn’t let anyone inside - unless people were bringing him Aquarius gifts. The room was full of them, all holding letters that asked Ryan back. Oh, if only, he thought.
Brendon walked around inside, tears stinging his eyes as they threatened to spill down his porcelain cheeks. Why did this have to hurt so much? He needed something, anything to help him get over his hard sense of loneliness. So with ease, Brendon opened Ryan’s wardrobe and was instantly flushed with the stale lingering smell of his old friend. This was when his tears did escape; half the clothes were missing from Ryan’s travel but it was good enough.
Pulling down one of the hangers, Brendon was now looking at a soft blue hoodie. He smiled a bit, remembering Ryan wearing it the night before he left; New Years Eve. Somehow over the years it still smelled like him: fresh clear water with the strange lingered smell of evergreens. Brendon unzipped the sweater and slipped it onto his own self, wearing it snug against his bare chest.
Sometime later Brendon ended on Ryan’s mattress and curled into himself. He held the sweater close to him, trying to ignore the tiny insolent blood stains on the sheet. This was where Brendon had found him that night, bleeding from the wrists so terribly. This is where he found him after the hilariously erotic dream he had when he was younger. This is where they had pillow fights and stayed up late talking about nothing. Brendon wished so much to talk about sweet nothing’s, something’s, anything’s with Ryan.
That night he fell asleep with Ryan’s clothing and blankets wrapped around him, shielding his body from all harm.
That night Brendon fell asleep clutching onto the soft pillow, crying against the off-white fabric.
That night he fell asleep in the dark, in the cold, just because it reminded him of everything he wasn’t and everything Aquarius was.
That night Brendon fell asleep, realizing how sorely he was in love with Ryan Ross.