Melt Your Headaches, Call it Home (S/A)
It was Ryan Ross’ fault. Just ask Brendon. All of it. Ryan was to blame. How on earth is Brendon finding himself panting on his bunk with his hand down some girl’s panties? He doesn’t know. Honestly, he isn't even turned on by her high pitched moans. Ignores her long, wavy hair. It's easier to pretend with his eyes closed. Just to block everything out.
“Brendon… we can’t do this. Not anymore. We’re sick. And fucked up. This isn’t right and you know it. I have Keltie...”
Brendon’s bottom lip quivers. He knows Ryan would come to his senses about their relationship eventually, but he sure as hell isn’t ready for it now.
“I thought you loved me, Ry,” Brendon manages to spurt out. There’s no change in the elder’s expression as Brendon’s eyes water.
“I do love you. But we need to set up limits to what’s wrong and what’s right. This… isn’t right. It’s fucking sick quite honestly.”
Every muscle in the younger boy’s chest tightens. If there’s anyone who has any particular control over how Brendon feels, it’s Ryan.
Ryan stays motionless as he watches Brendon fall apart in front of him. The youngest wonders if Ryan cares. He wonders how he can watch the boy he held and kissed the night before have his heart break right in front of him.
Brendon’s lucky today is his day off because there’s no way he can go on stage tonight. No way he can meet thirty or so fans and keep a fake smile up. No way he can pretend to be happy…
Thrusting into her is nothing like Ryan. In fact, Ryan hardly even let Brendon fuck him. Ryan liked to be in control. Brendon didn’t mind. Not one bit. But now he has to put all his energy into pleasuring this girl he picked up after the show because Ryan is wrong. Brendon isn’t sick. He’s normal. Look, he can have sex with a girl just like normal guys. The last thing Brendon wants if for Ryan to look at him in such disgust again.
“I can’t believe you talked me into this. You’re so fucking manipulative with your feminine hips and those big fucking lips. You look like a chick. That’s the only reason I let myself do this. It’s because you’re the only one who is around.”
Brendon doesn’t understand why he needs the verbal abuse. Why Ryan has to boost his own ego and shatter Brendon’s heart into further broken pieces.
His face is flushed red and it takes all of his energy to prevent himself from crying.
“I’m sorry, Ryan.”
The eldest boy scoffs.
“You make me sick, Brendon. Don’t even fucking look at me like that again, got it?”
Brendon’s sad, dark puppy dog eyes close and he begins to walk from the hotel door to Jon’s room. He knew all about them. Ryan doesn’t know this of course, but Brendon really needs someone right now. After all, his first real love just broke his heart and then further insulted him. Ryan clasps onto Brendon’s arm roughly and grits his teeth.
“Stay here. I’m going to eat. Clean the fuck up you’re gross. Why did I waste my time with you?”
As Brendon climaxes, he hides his face in to pillow, hoping not to curse this poor horny girl with the look of him coming. He’s positive she’s only there because he looks alright in a few magazines shoots along with the fact that he’s the lead singer of the band.
She hits orgasm and it’s nothing he wants to see, hear, or feel. He wants Ryan, but he wants to reframe from thinking of him as well. He feels pathetic knowing Ryan, a boy, is the only thing on this mind.
He feels hot. He can’t breathe and he kind of really needs a fucking cigarette or something. The girl goes to stroke Brendon’s hair, but he’s already jumping out of the bunk and slipping on a pair of what seems to be Spencer’s pajama pants. On the couch, he spots his box of cigarettes, stuffing one in between his flushed lips. He can’t taste Ryan and it’s not okay. It’s been exactly three weeks and two days since Ryan said it’s over and he doesn’t know what he has to care so much.
It’s news to him that the bus hasn’t even moved from it’s parked spot at the latest venue. As far as Brendon knew, they were driving off to the next city with some stranger in his bunk. Sure, Zack wouldn’t have let that happen but Zack didn’t know.
As he’s stepping down the stairs, Ryan is about to walk onto the bus, a genuine smile on his face until he spots Brendon. Brendon’s covered in sweat with shaky hands and a dark eyes. Dark, beady eyes that look almost frightened and unknowing. As much as Brendon doesn’t want to talk to him, he realizes he’s not wearing his own pants, therefore has no lighter.
“C-could I borrow a lighter?” he stutters, watching Ryan’s monotonous facial expression as he digs into his pants pocket. Brendon forces a half-grateful smile before stepping onto the pavement and lighting his cigarette. Ryan’s watching and Brendon is wondering if he gives a flying fuck, but as soon as he turns up to talk to him again, the boy has walked onto the bus with no goodbye at all.
“Please Ryan, you’ve proven your point. You don’t have to keep doing this to me. You can stop yelling now. I won’t bother you anymore… just please… please stop. Stop hurting me.” Brendon’s pleading, almost at his knees with desperation for Ryan’s screaming to stop.
“Stop acting like I hurt you! You hurt me for being some sick fuck. You fucked me into thinking I was making love to you. Thinking I even loved you. Like that. And I don’t. I fucking don’t Brendon. You’re a boy. And I’m a boy and we don’t belong together. You make me sick.”
Brendon’s crying again. He wants so hard not to, but he can’t help it. Ryan’s eating away at his thoughts, his self-confidence. Brendon would be alright with disappearing indefinitely right about now.
“Please… let me go to Jon. Let me see Jon.”
“You fucking told him didn’t you? Didn’t you?!”
Brendon whimpers as Ryan comes at him again, this time grabbing him by the collar and thrusting him into the wall. His teeth are gritted once more and Brendon has never felt Ryan touch him like this. Never imagined Ryan to even hurt him and now he can feel a bruise forming on his back by the moment.
“I’m sorry. He didn’t care… he’s all I had.”
Brendon watches as Ryan’s face contorts. Watches him make a decision in his head about what to do with him. There’s an aroma of liquor coming from Ryan’s breath and it’s obviously what set him off on Brendon in the first place. It’s not that he doesn’t mean the things he’s saying, he is just making it that much more intense by letting his anger out too much.
Unexpectedly, as Brendon is thinking, Ryan’s knuckles slam across Brendon’s wet face, causing the boy to cry out and cover it immediately. Ryan is scoffing again, something Brendon has now learned he does well, and he gives Brendon one last shove against the wall.
It’s not until his third cigarette that he realizes he left the mysterious girl in his bunk. She’ll probably find some shit to put on the internet about him now. With the way he ran out on her, it’ll once again be said he has a small dick as well. And Brendon doesn’t give himself much credit, but his dick is not that small. It’s over-average and he doesn’t care what his exes think, Ryan liked him the way he was. Back then. Not even long ago.
It’s another ten minutes that pass and the girl is fully dressed and walking off the bus. She’s scoffing at Brendon, something people seem to do oh so well to him and muttering ‘jerk’ and ‘whatta shitty fuck’. Brendon doesn’t care though. It’s probably all true anyway. What does he know when he’s not doing it with the one person he wants to be with? With the amount of shit Ryan’s given him, Brendon would still take him back in a heartbeat.
“You just fucking hit me…” Brendon coughs, not even able to comprehend the situation.
“Yeah? So? What are you going to call it? Domestic violence? We’re not together so charge me with fucking battery for all I care.”
If only Brendon understood how far down his heart could drop. If only Ryan would stop doing this. If he’d just stop Brendon might get over it soon. But Ryan is heartless and Brendon does care and all he wants is to be alone.
“I’m going to take a shower. To wash off all the ugly, yeah?”
Ryan rolls his eyes and Brendon can almost feel them on his hips after, but his vision is too blurry to notice where he’s really standing. Maybe the thought of Brendon wet and naked in the shower was turning him on. Maybe he was disgusted by it. Brendon didn’t know.
“I don’t think you can wash it all off, Bren. Sorry to break it to you.”
Brendon bites his lip to hold back a high pitched whimper from the insults that keep being plunged at his chest. Ryan was obviously not checking him out. What was this, middle school?
The faint taste of blood enters his mouth and Brendon sighs in defeat. This was beyond defeat. This was something beyond being stomped on, shot, stabbed and spit on. This was Ryan. Ryan hating Brendon for only wanting his love.
A reaction in the back of his mind is telling him to pull at Ryan’s shirt, cry into his shoulder, press his lips to if only just his cheek. But he hasn’t got the energy. He can’t take the defeat. So he backs down and nods.
“I’m sorry I’m a fuck up,” Brendon admits, truthfully.
“Go take your fucking shower.”
He’s been chain smoking for over half an hour and he can’t figure out why he feels so sick. There’s just this horrible feeling in the pit of his stomach and he needs it to go away. Needs to have relief. He’s doing all he can to just get over Ryan. And now all he has is memories of the boy holding him, kissing him, whispering of how he loves him and it’s making Brendon literally ill. He wonders if he can honestly die of heartbreak.
Jon comes out some time shortly thereafter. He notices Brendon’s shaky hands immediately as he drags the smoke off of his cigarette. He exhales slowly, just parting his lips to let the smoke dance in the air in a swirling motion rather than blowing it out. It’s always looked prettier to him, so he’s kept exhaling like that. Ryan used to love it as well..
“What’s wrong, man?” Jon asks, concern in his face. “You look rough as fuck. Where’s your shirt...?”
Brendon looks down to examine himself and really, he doesn’t think he’s that horrible looking. Girls don’t fantasize over him because he is just some ugly kid who doesn’t look like his balls even dropped. Maybe his stomach could be a little flatter and his face a little more clear. And maybe his eyebrows could be more groomed and his teeth could be whiter. Or maybe he just needed a whole new face in general. It’s things like that that have been keeping Brendon up at night. Just knowing he’s not good enough.
“I’m fine. Just needed a cigarette.”
“You’ve been out here forever. You’ve been acting miserable for weeks and you won’t even talk to me. What the hell is going on, dude?”
Jon doesn’t know. Ryan said not to tell.
“Don’t you dare fucking tell anybody. I swear to God I will fuck you up like the cool kids did to you in high school when you carried around your gay little band instruments. I should’ve fucking known you’d do this to me.”
“Please… stop cursing. Just stop please.”
“Can’t handle my words, Brendon? Jesus Christ, sticks and stones may break your bones, but words will never hurt you, obviously not in your case. My fist will break you and so will the things I say. You’re so pathetic you can’t even stick up for yourself."
Brendon’s had enough. He’s had enough, but he can’t do anything about it. He can’t cry because he’s been crying. Can’t punch Ryan, because Ryan will punch him back. Can’t scoff because Ryan is already scoffing at him with the most disgusted look ever. Can’t even kill himself because Ryan will have gotten exactly what he wanted.
“Did something with you and Ryan happen?”
Brendon immediately jerks up to make sure the tall, frail boy is not in sight. He doesn’t want Ryan to hurt him again. He doesn’t want to think about Ryan hurting him. Ryan said not to tell. But it’s Jon and Jon already knows. So what’s the harm in letting his feelings out for the first time since the Oprah survey he took online on Tuesday?
“There is no longer a Ryan and I.” Jon frowns because now he gets it. He understands Brendon’s lack of excitement. He understands the boy’s loneliness and most of all, he gets that Brendon could really use someone right now. Because he knows how Brendon gets. He remembers the day Brendon realized he had a crush on Ryan.
“Look… Bren. There are other fish in the sea, yeah?” Those weren’t the right words and even Jon knows it.
“Yeah. I know.”
“Brendon… just… wanna tell me what happened?”
“Not really…”
“Brendon.”
“He doesn’t like me. I don’t know what happened, but he doesn’t like me anymore. I don’t know I got ugly and disgusting and he apparently just noticed I had a dick so there. That’s what happened.”
Jon’s face is sympathetic. He sees the boy’s hurt. He wants to comfort him. Stepping forward, he pulls an arm around Brendon’s shoulders.
“I don’t care if this makes me sound gay… or whatever. But you’re most definitely not ugly. You’re one of the um… prettiest? Yeah prettiest boys I know, Bren. You are the prettiest by far. You’re well… hot. If I was a guy… gay. A gay guy… I’d totally date you. If Ryan doesn’t see that, then he’s an idiot. A fucking idiot if that.”
Once again with the clichés. Brendon hates those.
“Thank you, Jon. I’ll get over it.”
“Who was in your bunk earlier…”
“Oh um. Well, I forgot her name...ha”
“How many girls have you slept with since Ryan…?”
“I don’t know ten or eleven why?”
Jon shakes his head. He’s mad now. And not really so much at Brendon than he is Ryan.
“What did he tell you that made you want to do that?”
“That I’m… disgusting. And fucked up. And now I’m not. So it’s all okay. Everything’s fine.”
But Jon’s mad now. He’s really mad and if he doesn’t find Ryan now, he may break someone else on his journey. Because Brendon is his friend and Ryan is supposed at least be his friend if not his lover and treating him like that is unacceptable to Jon. Brendon’s face contorts into one of worry when he watches Jon disappear onto the bus with loud stomps. He quickly follows, needing to find out what’s going on. He can’t find Ryan, but he finds Jon. The older boy is sucking his teeth and looking around the front lounge, deciding perhaps he would be in the back one by now. There’s no way he’d be in his bunk this early. Brendon stops in the hallway of the bunks, not wanting to witness anything Jon does to Ryan first hand. But there’s a sobbing noise right next to him.
Brendon is eye level with Ryan’s bunk. And it’s definitely his broken voice he hears through the light curtain. But why? He doesn’t want to open it. Doesn’t want to see the boy. Doesn’t need to know. Doesn’t want to know. Doesn’t have any interest. So he walks away down the hallway and into the front lounge to have a beer. He thinks it’s time to quit all of this because it’s not really worth it anymore. All of it.
*
Ryan watches his tears drop onto the polaroid of him and Brendon, body rocking back and forth uncomfortably on his small bunk.
“Be careful! I don’t want you smearing the ink, Bren. It’d be nice to have one decent picture of us where we look cute, okay?”
It’s too late because the smudge mark is already plainly obvious on the small square picture and Brendon pouts, apologizing as he pulls away from the kiss that caused this mistake. It’s okay though because Brendon looks absolutely beautiful right now. There’s no way that smile could ever fade. It’s too perfect right in front of him and printed onto the small, thick film. It might be the arched eyebrows or even possibly his big, round eyes staring straight into his own. They’re too perfect. Everything about this boy is too perfect and Ryan doesn’t think he’ll ever get enough of him. How did he get blessed with waking up to this boy’s face every day?
Ryan smiles because Brendon is his. And that’s all he needs to know.
He rocks back and forth still. Ryan’s not okay because he lost the only person who even really meant anything to him and with the way he treated him, he’ll never get him back. It isn’t even worth trying. He knows Brendon would slap him in the face. He deserves a slap in the face. He can’t even believe he hurt Brendon.
He needs that boy right now. Small and warm and tangled in his arms. There’s not a way in hell Ryan will make it without him. But he has to. Because he lied to Brendon. He told him he was everything he wasn’t: ugly, vulgar, disgusting, fucked up, pathetic. Brendon is nothing less than perfect. And now he has to hear Brendon cry in his bunk at night while Ryan silently falls asleep with tears falling down his face. He doesn’t know why he hasn’t tried to get him back. There’s no way he could face him. He doesn’t have the balls. But he needs to talk to Brendon because now he doesn't know if he can breathe himself. Doesn't know if he can handle hearing the moans of his Brendon along with some girl he took home.
There's no way that Ryan can believe he's fucking all of these girls to prove himself right. His mind is torn, but he jumps out of his bunk. He needs to see Brendon, as to make sure he is alright. Or something. The poor boy has cried himself to sleep again on the couch and it makes Ryan wonder how long he was up there in his bunk. Carefully, he picks up the small boy, bringing him as close to him as he can. He's beautiful, even with a tear stained face. He needs to be able to call that face his again. He needs to kiss that flawless face.
Ryan places Brendon into the younger boy's bed, placing a kiss to his forehead as he crawls in with him. His arms wrap around him gently and his lips continue to find soft patches of skin. His smell isn't the same anymore and neither is his taste. He needs to find his boy's scent. He needs him back.
Eying a sharpie rolled onto his comforter, Ryan pulls the top off with his teeth, taking Brendon's hand into his and expanding it so he can reveal his palm. With a small, hopeful smile, he writes on it neatly, hoping the boy will awaken to read it:
I'm in love with you, Bren. Always have been. I'm so sorry for everything. I need you.