Chapter Text
Ryan has a dirty little secret. He doesn’t even want to admit it to himself, if he’s being honest. But when all he hears is the ringing in his ears as he spits what little he ate for lunch into the toilet, it’s getting kind of hard to ignore.
’I can stop at any time.’ It’s a little lie he likes to keep telling himself.
He flushes the toilet and leans back against the wall of the stall. He pants, catching his breath as he wipes his mouth with a wad of toilet paper. He purposely picked the bathroom furthest from the dressing room just so he wouldn’t be caught doing this. After his close call with getting caught last week he’s not taking any chances. He’s just lucky Jon was too drunk when he stumbled into that bathroom to realize what was going on. He’ll have to be more careful. ‘New rules’ he reminds himself, heaving a sigh. He pulls himself to his feet and grabs his makeup bag off the floor beside him.
If anyone asks, he’ll just say he needed to do his makeup in peace. It’s a believable enough excuse. Even Zack was getting annoyed because Brendon would not shut up about some new game he discovered. He’s been constantly trying to goad everyone into playing it with him. Ryan felt like he was going to snap at him if he didn’t leave to get a moment of peace and quiet. It was easy enough to slip away without being noticed.
He brushes his teeth to flush out any vomit smell before finishing off his makeup. He dusts on a bunch of powder to set it before putting his supplies back in the bag. He checks his phone. He still has twenty minutes or so. He hopes no one’s sending in the troops to look for him. He tucks his makeup bag under his arm and leaves the bathroom to try and find his way back to the dressing room. The venue is like a labyrinth and he can’t exactly remember where to go to head back.
He uses his ready made excuse when Zack finds him in the hallway, holding up his makeup bag as proof.
Zack shoots him a glance like he didn't completely believe him but lets it go for now. “We gotta hurry.” He grabs Ryan by the shoulder to turn him back the right direction. He frowns as his listens to the chatter on his walkie talkie. “They’re about to open the venue doors. So unless you want to get left to the fan girls…”
Ryan sighs and shakes his head, following Zack to safety behind a backstage door. Once back in the dressing room he stuffs his makeup bag back into his backpack. He stops mid-movement, wrinkling his nose as Brendon holds out half a chicken salad sandwich to him.
“Want some?” Brendon asks, mouth full. “I didn’t bite this half, I swear.”
“Uh, No thanks.” Ryan grimaces. “Hard pass.”
Brendon frowns a bit. “Cmon, dude you ate like two bites at lunch today. You must be hungry by now.”
Ryan shakes his head. “You know all that mayonnaise will just turn my stomach. Do you want me to get sick on stage?”
Brendon shrugs and rolls his eyes. “Suit yourself.” He takes another bite of the sandwich as he goes back to the catering table to grab a bottle of water.
Ryan plops down on the couch and tries to busy his mind with thinking about anything but their impending show. It was so dumb of him to think that playing live had to be just as easy as recording. What the hell was Pete thinking, signing a band that never did a live show a day in their lives before this tour? The anxiety tightens in Ryan’s gut the same way it has every night on this run. He glances around at his bandmates and wonders how they’re so unaffected by this. Especially Brendon, he’s noticed, the boy seems to love the spotlight. He performs with an ease that Ryan envies.
Brendon is leaned up against a corner and singing along to his iPod as he warms up. Spencer’s in the corner tapping away on his drum practice pad. Jon is changing one of the strings on the acoustic he always keeps in the dressing rooms. But Ryan, he’s off in a world of his own. He wishes he could have even half their confidence. He wonders if the people that paid through the nose to see them tonight will see through his fragile disguise and realize he’s a huge fraud.
He’s pulled out of his thoughts by the sound of the crowd intensifying. The opening act must’ve just gone on. A giant digital clock on the wall by the door shows the time and a countdown till they go on stage. With every passing second, Ryan feels like his chest might just cave in.
Spencer presses a bottle of water into Ryan’s hands. Ryan jumps a bit and looks at it. He tries to uncap the bottle but hasn’t realized until now how bad his hands are shaking.
Spencer twists the cap off and hands it to him. “Still got stage fright? I figured it would’ve worn off by now.”
Ryan rolls his eyes. “Well obviously it hasn’t.” He takes a sip of the water.
“I don’t know what you’re so afraid of. We all know the show. It’s the same one we do every night. Except this time we’re in Utah.” Spencer drops down on the couch beside him. “Anything I can do to help?”
Ryan shakes his head. “I’ll be fine once we get it over with.”
Spencer puts a hand on his shoulder and gives it a squeeze. “Take a deep breath, man. I promise it’ll be alright. We’re on top of the world right now, try and enjoy it a little.” He gives him a smile as he gets up. “Drink your water.”
“Yes, mom.” Ryan has to resist another eye roll. He knows Spencer means well. He always does. It’s just hard for Ryan to believe he deserves any of that blind devotion. He wonders if Spencer has just stuck around this long because he didn’t know any better, or if he actually cares. He can’t help they way his mind drifts to the too many sleepless nights curled up on the floor of Spencer’s room. Just because he needed somewhere to hide from his dad; from the whole world too, if he was being honest.
He doesn’t really register the flurry of movement in the room at first. Someone threads his in-ear wire through his shirt and tapes it to his back before clipping the pack to his belt. Someone else grabs him and rushes him to the side of the stage with the others. He hears the roar of the crowd chanting “Panic! Panic!” A tech loops the guitar strap over his head and gives a thumbs up. Before Ryan even knows it, he’s squinting into the blinding spotlights as they walk on stage. He grips his guitar, white knuckled, as he steps up to the mic. He hears Spencer in his earpiece counting them off for the first song. Ryan’s body just starts on autopilot. He tries hard to not let his anxiety show to the audience, but he knows he probably looks ridiculous.
He tries to remember to stay in character when Brendon does his usual mid-show spiel and walks up to him. Brendon immediately notices how pale and flushed Ryan looks. Ryan stiffens as Brendon pulls out Ryan’s earpiece to ask if he’s okay. Ryan just gives a small nod. Brendon kisses his cheek and continues on with the act. It doesn’t stop Brendon from sending sideways glances at Ryan whenever he gets the chance.
By the end of the show, Ryan feels like he’s run a marathon. He hands off his guitar and they all start walking back to the dressing room. Since he is at the back of the group he glances one way, then the other. The hall to the right is empty, save for road cases lining either side. He sneaks away down this hall and finds a back fire exit. Thankfully the door doesn’t have an alarm on it as he pushes it open and steps outside.
He just needs some fresh air to try to clear the cobwebs from his mind, and maybe to stop the damned shaking while he’s at it. He leans against the cool brick wall and closes his eyes. He’s only had a moment’s peace when he hears the chain link fence rattle and some girls shout his name.
He doesn’t want to talk to anyone, so at first he pretends to not hear them. All he wants is a chance to catch his breath. Their yelling only gets more persistent. He doesn’t want to appear like a total jerk, but he just wishes that they understood he’s off duty. They already got what they paid for out of him.
After wrestling with the decision a moment more, he heaves a sigh and walks over to the dozen or so fans clustered along the fence. He manages polite greetings and a few smiles as cameras flash in his face. He’s sure these people are getting all his worst angles with his deer-in-headlights look. He signs the ticket stubs and scraps of paper shoved at him through the holes in the fence.
Ryan hears the back door slam open and slightly angry footsteps approach. Someone grabs him by the arm. Ryan jolts and turns to see it’s Zack and he looks pissed. More so than usual.
He lets go of Ryan but nods back towards the building. “It’s time to get back inside.”
Even though he knows he’s probably in shit, he’s kind of glad to be saved from anymore awkward fan interactions. He gives a sheepish wave to them as he follows Zack inside.
“That was really stupid.” Zack lays into him, now that they are inside and out of fans’ earshot. “Dude. Don’t fucking take off like that without telling anyone. If you want some fresh air or whatever fine but I can’t keep playing hide and seek with you multiple times per day. And you can’t just go out there by yourself. It’s a security risk. Those girls will rip you apart given half the chance and sell the pieces on eBay.”
Ryan sighs. “Sorry.”
He shakes his head and pinches the bridge of his nose. “You kids are going to give me a heart attack, I swear.” Zack nudges him back in the direction of the dressing room. “Get your stuff. Bus call is in ten.”
Once back, Ryan collects his bag and sits by one of the vanity mirrors. He takes out his makeup remover wipes and tries to scrub off what he can. There’s still a bit of liner smudged around his eyes but he can’t bring himself to care. It makes the bags under his eyes look darker. All he can think about is curling up in his bunk and passing out.
He jumps again when Brendon comes up from behind and grabs him by the shoulders. He wonders why everyone feels the damn need to grab him today. Can’t they see he doesn’t want to be touched?
Brendon smiles at him in the reflection of the mirror, resting his chin on top of Ryan’s head. “I’m gonna watch a movie in the back lounge. Wanna join me?”
Ryan finally pulls away from the touch and throws the spent makeup wipes in the trash. “I don’t think I could stay awake if I tried.”
“Cmon. I’ll keep you awake.” He pokes Ryan’s side with a sly grin.
He moves away from the touch again, not knowing how else to hint that he’s not receptive without saying it aloud. Ryan knows what that look Brendon’s giving him means. He knows it well from so many nights secreted away in hotel rooms. He knows what Brendon wants but it doesn’t mean he has to give it. “Honestly I’m super tired.”
Brendon pouts and crosses his arms, acting a little like a spoiled child. “Don’t be a party pooper.” He leans in to whisper into Ryan’s ear since the others can’t hear. “Maybe I’ll just have to fuck Spencer instead.”
Ryan rolls his eyes, not taking the bait. “I don’t think Spence will go for it. I think he at least has some standards.”
“But you don’t. Don’t pretend that you suddenly do.” He gets more forward and plops himself down in Ryan’s lap. “C’mon. Just for a little bit.” He leans in to whisper in his ear. “I’ll make it worth your while.” Ryan can hear the wink in his voice.
Ryan caves and he shoves his makeup bag back into his pack. “Fine.”
Brendon’s face brightens. “Let’s go then. I already called dibs on the back lounge.”
Ryan follows Brendon back to the bus. They go up the steps, through the living area, past the rows of bunks and through a sliding door to the back lounge. It’s small but cozy back here. But more importantly it’s the only room on the bus with a lock. A fact Brendon likes to take full advantage of.
Brendon sprawls himself across one of the couches as he turns on the tv and starts browsing the movie selections. He chooses one at random. It doesn’t matter since they won’t be paying much attention to it anyway. He just wants it loud enough to cover up any noises.
Brendon tosses the remote aside as he moves to sit in Ryan’s lap, and captures his lips in a real kiss for the first time in days. With his arms wrapped around Ryan’s shoulders, he feels the other man give slightly into the kiss. Brendon has a blush and a smile on his face when he finally pulls away for air. He meets Ryan’s gaze, trying to decode the meaning behind those hard eyes of his. He doesn’t understand Ryan’s fear of what they both so obviously feel. He wants to be with Ryan. He knows it. He wants the whole world to know it. He’s always worn his heart on his sleeve, but he feels like he always loves harder than he gets loved in return.
Ryan shrinks from Brendon’s gaze. He knows what the other must be thinking. He’s been trying to bring it up more and more lately, but Ryan has been avoiding the conversation out of fear. He’s long built walls around himself so tall he doesn’t think anyone will ever see over them. He lets his eyes slip closed as Brendon starts to kiss at his neck. He tries to shake the thoughts and just melt into it, but his mind just won’t stop racing.
Deep down he knows Spencer just deals with his bullshit because he’s used to it. Brendon is the only one with the balls to ever call him out on it. It scares Ryan. He doesn’t like feeling that vulnerable. He can’t feel like he’s at the mercy of others. That’s just how he’s managed to keep himself somewhat sane for all these years after everything he’s been through. He scared to admit he loves Brendon because he knows deep down he can never be what Brendon truly needs.
Brendon twines his fingers in Ryan’s hair, tilting his head up so he’ll look at him. “Are you okay?” He asks, fully ready to stop if the answer is no.
Ryan sucks in a breath. If he’s being honest, he’s not really feeling it, but he doesn’t want to ruin Brendon’s night. “I’m fine. I promise. Just tired is all. You’re fine.” He murmurs.
Brendon instantly picks up on his hesitation. “Are you sure?” He asks gently. “We can stop.”
Ryan just shakes his head and pulls him in for another kiss, silencing any further argument. It seems to work because within a moment he’s kissing back. He lets his hands slide down Brendon’s back until he reaches his hips. He tugs the other in closer as he deepens the kiss.
Brendon pulls back from the kiss with a soft moan. He runs his hands up under the front of Ryan’s shirt, cool fingertips on the warm skin of his chest. “You’re so tense tonight, baby.” He moves to kiss at the other man’s neck, pausing to nip lightly over his pulse. “Please let me help take your mind off it.” He murmurs against the soft skin at the join of Ryan’s neck and shoulder.
Ryan closes his eyes and tries to focus on the feeling of Brendon’s lips as he works his way down to the collar of Ryan’s t-shirt. Ryan wordlessly lifts his arms to make it easier for Brendon to take it off him. He can settle into this routine. This part is easy, automatic. He tugs at the hem of Brendon’s shirt, he wants the focus off him and onto the other man.
Brendon strips off his shirt and tosses it away. He looks at Ryan with want and desire in his eyes. He knows they can’t get away with much on the bus without getting caught, but he’s always loved pushing boundaries. He presses one last longing kiss to Ryan’s lips before he slides off his lap and settles on the floor between Ryan’s legs. He bites his lip and glances up at him as he works his belt and pants open. He nudges Ryan to get him to lift his hips. He smirks when he realizes that he isn’t wearing any underwear and Ryan’s hard cock springs up to greet him. He barely has Ryan’s pants to his knees before he can't resist anymore. He wraps his lips around Ryan’s cock head, he brushes his tongue over it in the manner he knows the other man likes.
Ryan bites back a moan. “Oh, fuck.” He gasps as he fists a hand in Brendon’s hair. He swears he’ll never get tired of that feeling, of how Brendon knows just the right ways to drive him wild. He tries to keep himself quiet as he rocks his hips up to meet Brendon’s mouth. He knows he probably won’t last long at this rate. Not with how tired he is and how turned on Brendon has him.
Brendon, spurred by his soft moans, only speeds up his pace. He wants to draw more out of him. Part of him kind of wants the others to hear. He doesn’t know why Ryan is so ashamed of this, of them. How anyone can be ashamed of something that makes them feel this good. He lightly rakes his nails down the supple skin of Ryan’s inner thigh. He wishes more than anything that Ryan would let him mark it up, truly make him his.
Ryan gasps and tightens his grip on Brendon’s hair. He tries to ignore the thought of how disgusting Brendon must think his thighs are. He can’t even stand the sight of looking down at them. He doesn’t stop him though. “Getting close.” He warns.
Brendon pulls off him with a slick sound, a dark look in his eyes as he kicks off his pants and settles back into Ryan’s lap. He gathers both their cocks in one of his hands, pumping both of them together. He silences all the pretty noises that spill from Ryan’s mouth with a messy kiss. Ryan is like putty in his hands as he comes undone, hips stuttering as he spills over Brendon’s fist. Brendon’s own climax follows not long after. He breaks their kiss as he pants softly. “Better?” Brendon asks with a smirk.
Ryan looks up at him with wide eyes and a tired smile and nods. “Much better.”
Brendon kisses him one last time before he pulls back to clean them up best he can with a handful of tissues. They are both a bit dazed as they get dressed before anyone can barge in on them.
Brendon sits back down next to him and glances up at the TV, at the movie they are supposed to be watching that was now like half over. He sighs and looks back over at Ryan. “I’m tired of hiding.” He says quietly. “I’m tired of only being yours when it’s hotel rooms, closets and bathroom stalls.”
Ryan stiffens a bit and doesn’t meet his gaze. “I know.”
Brendon frowns. “That’s all you’ve got to say? That ‘you know’?”
“I’m sorry that this just doesn’t come easy to me. If you wanted easy you should’ve picked someone else.” Ryan looks down at his hands in his lap.
“But I don’t want someone else.” Brendon defends. “I want you. Even if you’re a fucking asshole about it.” He sighs. “I don’t get why we can’t at least tell Spence and Jon. It’s not like they’re gonna treat us any different. Haven’t I at least earned that much?”
Ryan shakes his head. “It’s not about how they see us. It’s about everyone else. Do you really want every interview for the rest of our careers to be people asking us which songs are the ones with the ‘gay subtext’?”
“No.” He replies. “But I’m not ashamed of who I am. I don’t get why you are?”
“Maybe try being raised catholic. They pile on enough guilt to last a lifetime.” Ryan shrugs.
“And the Mormons don’t?” Brendon rolls his eyes. “When are you going to stop caring what others think and just do what makes you happy?” Brendon asks pointedly.
“Caring what others think is kind of part of our job.” Ryan rubs at his tired eyes.
“Caring what people think of our music is our job. Caring what people think of our love lives isn’t.”
“One day we can. I promise you.” Ryan looks up to meet Brendon’s gaze. “Just not right now.”
“You’ve said ‘not right now’ for the last year now. Let me ask you something Ryan, when exactly is a ‘good time’? Cause it feels like never.”
Ryan pulls away and stands up. “I’m not doing this fight again. I’m too tired. I’m going to bed.”
“That’s your problem.” Brendon crosses his arms. “You want things but you’re never willing to fight for them.”
Ryan knows he’s right, he just ducks his head as he slips past the door and goes to his bunk. ‘Brendon doesn’t understand because he can never understand,’ he tells himself. Brendon had a decent upbringing. He has a family that adores him, even if they did kick him out for a bit when he decided to pursue music. They took him back. They still care. All Ryan received when he told his dad he wasn’t going to college and that he joined a band, was the beating of a lifetime. He’s pretty sure he still has marks on his back from where his father took the belt to him.
He pulls the blankets over his head and shuts his eyes tight. If he’s lucky, maybe sleep will just be kind to him tonight.
Turns out, he doesn’t get that lucky. He wakes up in the middle of the night, sweating and panting. His mind is fogged with a nightmare he can’t remember yet can’t quite shake. His blankets are all tangled up at the foot of his bed and he’s drenched in sweat. When he sits up he immediately feels sick to his stomach.
He slips out of his bunk and is careful to try and not wake anyone as he stumbles in the dark to the bathroom. He drops to his knees in front of the toilet in a well rehearsed motion. He doesn’t spit up much, other than bile. He hasn’t eaten anything so there’s nothing to bring up. He knows it’s probably sad that just the motion of this brings him comfort now. He knows that means he’s gone too far. That he should stop and ask for help. But help is the furthest thing from his mind as he lays himself down on the cold tile floor. His eyes feel heavy as they drift closed.
He doesn’t know how long he stays like that, stuck in the thick fog between half awake and half asleep. It takes a long moment to register that someone is knocking on the door. He lifts his head and hears a sleepy voice.
“Dude are you okay?” More knocking follows. “Did you throw up or something? Cause it sure sounded like it.”
Brendon. Because of course it is.
Ryan peels himself off the floor and flushes the toilet. “Yeah. I’m fine. Go back to bed.” He knows purging on the bus is a risk. It’s one of his rules and now he broke it. He leans over the sink as he rinses his mouth out and splashes some cool water on his face to try to bring himself out of his daze.
Brendon is waiting for him outside the door, looking a combination of tired and worried. He presses the back of his hand to Ryan’s forehead, trying to feel if he has a temperature. “Are you alright? Did you come down with the flu or something?”
Ryan swats his hand away. “I’m fine. Venue food just didn’t agree with me.” He lies.
“I’m pretty sure you never even ate any of the venue food.” Brendon’s expression grows even more worried.
Ryan takes a step back from him. “It's not like you’re watching me every second of the day. I did. I had one of those ham and cheese sandwiches but it was kinda warm. Must’ve been sitting out too long.”
Brendon gives him a look that says he doesn’t buy his excuse. “Are you sure?”
Ryan just nods and starts heading back to his bunk. He climbs inside and starts to close the curtain but Brendon stops him. He slides into the bunk behind him and presses himself to Ryan’s back before shutting the curtain the rest of the way. He wraps his arms around Ryan’s waist. He sighs softly as he settles in. “You would tell me if something was wrong, right?”
Ryan closes his eyes, trying to shrug off the conversation. “I told you I’m fine. Stop worrying.” He vows to himself that he’s going to have to be more careful about hiding his little ‘issue’ because people are catching on. He knows he can’t let them.
Brendon frowns a bit as he rubs Ryan’s side. Ryan turns to bury his face in the pillow, effectively ending the conversation. Part of him wants to just roll over and tell Brendon everything. But the other part of him just knows that if he peels away his shell to expose all his dirty insides, Brendon will run. They all do in the end.
He pretends to be asleep until he hears Brendon doze off behind him. He turns in his arms and rests his head on Brendon’s chest. He lets the soft rise and fall of his breaths ease him into sleep, almost like a lullaby. He stays like that the rest of the night. Thankfully, the nightmares leave him be.
The next day, once Brendon is out of his bunk, he takes out his black notebook from the depths of his bag. He flips to one of the last few empty pages. He fills in his numbers from the day before and starts a new entry with today’s date. ‘NEW RULES:’ He’s lost track of how many similar entries he’s made over the years.
1.) no purging on the bus or in shared rooms. Nowhere where it’s too risky to get found out.
2.) from now on, eat whenever the guys eat. Take at least one thing from the catering table. Take a sip of water between each bite. Wait at least an hour to get rid of it to avoid suspicion.
3.) time to come up with better excuses.
4.) fast every other day if possible.
He sighs as he reads it over. Now he just has to stick to his own advice. He hides the notebook back away and gets out of bed.
He makes himself a coffee; black, of course. He rifles through the fridge to find something small to eat. Yogurt? No, too hard to purge. Toast? Same thing. He settles on an energy bar out of a box he finds in the cabinet. He flips it over to glance at the nutrition label. 240. A bit much for breakfast. Maybe he can get away with only eating half. He gives a small smile as Brendon sits across from him at the table with a bowl of sugary cereal. He wonders how Brendon can eat so much junk and still look so good. He feels like he explodes just eating an apple.
“Whatcha thinkin about?” Brendon asks between bites.
“Oh.” He shrugs and takes a bite of the energy bar. “I was just zoned out. Haven’t had enough coffee yet.”
“Is that chocolate chip?” He points to the bar in Ryan’s hand.
Ryan gives a small nod. “Yeah. I think they’re a little stale though.” He takes a swig of his coffee.
“I hear we have three interviews today. One of them has an acoustic set.” Brendon tells him as he gets up to make another coffee.
Ryan waves his finger in a circle. “Whoopee. Can’t wait to answer the question ‘who didn’t close the goddamn door?’ for the hundredth time...this week.”
Brendon chuckles. “My personal favourite is when they ask what we think of the ‘emo’ scene. I mean, do I look like Pete Wentz?”
Ryan hides half the energy bar in the wrapper and sticks it in his pocket. On the way in to the radio station building he casually tosses it away. He smiles when no one seems any the wiser.
The radio host seems way too chipper for this ungodly hour of 7am. He wonders what kind of rock stars do 7am talk radio. Or worse yet, who the hell listens to it? He sits down in an office chair next to Brendon and moves the mic so they can both speak into it.
He somehow resists banging his head on the table when the host cracks a joke about ‘closing the goddamn door.’ He shoots Brendon an ‘I-told-you-so’ look. They awkwardly laugh like they haven’t heard the same line a million times during this tour alone. Ryan mostly stays quiet unless he’s spoken to directly. He tries to keep down the thought that he feels like a background character in his own damn life.
The second interview later that day has a catered lunch for them. Ryan initially shies away but then he remembers his new rule #2. He picks a fruit cup and a turkey sandwich. Everyone’s too distracted to notice the way he alternates each bite with a sip of water. The interviewer smiles as she walks up to them. She shakes each of their hands as she introduces herself.
This time one of the questions asked does catch Ryan’s attention. “This one’s for Brendon and Ryan. There’s a lot of fan speculation on if you two are an item. Are the rumours true?”
Ryan glances over at Brendon, the other man looks just as unsure of what to say. “No.” He lies.
“Who’s the lucky lady?” She asks, wondering if she’ll maybe get a headline out of this mess of an interview after all.
“I don’t kiss and tell.” Ryan tries to pass it off with a joke.
When they get back in the van, Brendon has a sour look on his face as he gets in the seat next to him. “So when do I get to meet the girlfriend?” He rolls his eyes.
Ryan sighs, not wanting to have this fight in front of everyone. “Look in the mirror.”
“Are you saying you wear the pants in this relationship? Cause no way.” He finally cracks a smile and playfully punches Ryan’s arm.
“What, are you saying you’d rather see me in a skirt?”
Brendon thinks for a moment and then shrugs. “Actually... that might be kind of hot.” He whispers.
Ryan feels like he can’t roll his eyes enough. “I fucking hate you.”
Brendon smirks. “I didn’t hear a no.” He teases as he files that thought away for later.
“Absolutely fucking not.” Ryan protests.
Ryan is starting to really loathe this anxiety he can’t shake before every show. He loves making music, it’s the ‘standing in front of a few thousand people while you bare your soul’ part that he can’t stand. He feels every eye on him even if he knows that they’re probably focused on Brendon. It’s his words that the crowd sings back at him every night. He’s sure they don’t even know what half of them are about. He assumes they wouldn’t show up if they did.
He has too much time to think now that he’s locked all by himself in this dirty arena bathroom. On the way back to the venue from their mini press tour, they’d stopped at a gas station. Ryan mumbled something about needing to stretch his legs as an excuse to get away. He may or may not have purged into their dumpster out back. He was quick enough that he thought no one was suspicious. At least now he won’t have that meal weighing him down while he’s on stage. He fixes his attention back on his makeup. He can almost forget about the show as he works on the intricate bird pattern trailing down his cheek. Zack knocks on the door. Tells him it’s time to go.
With a deep breath he gets up. He checks his costume one last time in the mirror before he leaves. Before they go on stage Brendon tells him his makeup is really pretty. He’s glad he put on enough to cover up the way he blushes.
It’s been a few days and Ryan thinks Brendon is finally getting less suspicious of him. He doesn’t shoot him those looks at every meal anymore. He doesn’t shove food in his face and beg him to eat it. Even Spencer doesn’t think twice in asking him out for lunch or whatever. If that means his purge counts have to go up, then so be it. Ryan’s so used to pretending to be okay anyway.
When he steps on a scale again, he can’t help but be disappointed. It’s one of those stupid coin operated ones in a mall bathroom that prints off a fortune along with your weight. He’s gained three whole pounds. He steps on it twice just to make sure. He frowns as he looks at the second paper print out. He’s not really kept a meal down. How can he possibly be gaining weight?
It pretty much sours his mood for the rest of the day. He shuts himself off from everyone and hides in his hotel room. He’s glad Brendon is out because it means he can get rid of his lunch without feeling too guilty about it. He double checks his phone to make sure he still has time. He turns on the bathroom fan to cover up the noise. He drops to his knees and presses his fingers to the back of his throat. He winces as he gags, it burns more than usual. He leans panting over the toilet and curses himself for breaking one of his rules yet again. He’s never been good at sticking to anything. He hopes the smell will dissipate before Brendon comes back. He sprays a bit of air freshener and cracks the window just to make sure.
Brendon comes back a couple hours later and smiles as he drops a paper bag in Ryan’s lap. “We went out for burgers. Figured you’d be hungry by now.”
Ryan tries his best to force a smile. “Thanks.” He takes a deep breath. He doesn’t really want to break two rules in one day. But he knows if he eats it there’s no getting rid of it tonight. How much weight is he bound to gain from just this meal alone? He takes his time unpacking the meal. A greasy plain cheeseburger and an overflowing box of fries. When he glances over he notices Brendon is already busying himself with the TV.
Half. He tells himself. He’ll only eat half. Then he’ll make some excuse about being tired and ‘save the rest for later.’ If it gets forgotten in the hotel mini fridge then whoops, oh well.
When Brendon notices Ryan’s done with his dinner, he shifts into the other bed with him. “It’s been a few days.” He murmurs before leaning in to kiss him.
Ryan lets his eyes fall closed, just enjoying one of the rare moments he feels safe in his own skin. He reaches a hand up to hold Brendon’s cheek as he deepens the kiss. Brendon relents easily as Ryan climbs into his lap.
For a brief moment he thinks that this is exactly where he belongs, in the arms of someone that cares about him probably more than anyone else. Ryan knows he feels the same in return. He just can’t put a finger on why he doesn’t feel worthy and why he’s scared to say it out loud. He tries his hardest to push the nagging thoughts to the back of his mind, after all he has more pressing issues to attend to. He breaks their kiss, resting his forehead against Brendon’s. He can feel that Brendon is already hard beneath him. A smirk plays on his lips as brushes his fingers over Brendon’s belt buckle. He moves to undo it, but then stops, changing his mind.
Brendon moves to flip them over but Ryan stops him. No. Tonight he wants control. He shushes Brendon with a finger pressed to his lips. Brendon tries to fight it a little, but Ryan takes his wrists and pins them above his head. The look Brendon gives him: that wide eyed stare, lower lip trapped between his teeth, it stirs something deep inside him. He can’t resist. He rolls his hips against Brendon’s, just to watch his reaction. His moans are music to his ears. He wonders if he can get him off just like this, tease him past the point of no return without ever even taking off their clothes.
Brendon has other ideas though, as he pulls his hands free from Ryan’s grip. He pushes up Ryan’s shirt halfway. “C’mon.” He runs his hands over Ryan’s sides. “I wanna see you.”
Ryan just pins them back down. “Not yet.” He teases. “You’ve gotta work for it.” He hovers over him, kissing at his neck. He smirks when Brendon tilts his head, allowing him more access. He starts to work Brendon’s shirt off but Brendon stops him.
“If I have to then you do too.” He whines.
They don’t swap places often. Ryan knows Brendon is kind of a stubborn bitch and likes to be in control, but tonight, Ryan has the urge. He wants to take just a little of that control away. He pushes Brendon’s shirt up further. “Good things come to boys who wait. Now, arms up.”
After pouting for a moment, Brendon finally lets him take his shirt off. Ryan wastes no time. He trails his hands over Brendon’s chest, stopping briefly to brush his thumb over one of his nipples just to gauge his reaction. The pleased whine that follows makes him smirk. “So pretty, and all mine.”
“That’s what you think.” Brendon says as he finally succeeds in flipping them over. He silences Ryan’s protest with another kiss.
Ryan’s even more upset the next time he weighs himself. They’re hanging out at a friend’s house on a day off. He’s supposed to be having fun but instead he’s staring at the number on the dusty scale in the corner of the bathroom. ‘It can’t be right.’ He steps off and lets it reset before getting back on. He frowns and shakes his head.
Not only has he not lost the weight he’d put on, but he’s gained two more pounds. Paranoid, he takes off his clothes and steps on it one last time. It barely makes a difference. He gets that sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach as he hurriedly gets dressed.
He vows to himself to not eat anything for the rest of the week. He thinks that ought to be enough to get this all off of him. He goes back to his friends, pretending like nothing happened at all. But, it’s a nagging thought in the back of his mind for the rest of the night.
He successfully avoids breakfast by waking up earlier than everyone and heading out for a walk. He leaves a note on Brendon’s nightstand so that no one will worry. He wanders the city for a bit until he starts getting messages to head back. He comes back with coffee and donuts for the rest of the guys. He’s careful to have taken one donut out and thrown it away so that he can say he’s already eaten one and that’s why he isn’t having any. It’s a smart plan, or so he thinks. He smiles to himself as he heads onto the bus.
Lunch is harder to skip. Their friend is coming to the show tonight and insisted on bringing a take out lunch for them. He hears the commotion in the lounge and swallows hard. He knows he has to go out there. He braces himself before slipping out of his bunk and puts on his best fake smile.
He feels even more uneasy as he puts on his costume for the show that night. There was not time to get rid of the meal. Too many people around and not enough chance to sneak away. He feels like his pants are too tight in all the wrong places. He’s half convinced one of the seams will break while he’s out there in front of everyone. He can almost see the fan blogs talking about it now. They’ll tear him apart, call him disgusting. They’ll all see Ryan for the monster he truly is. He frowns at himself in the mirror as he tries to fix his shirt. It’s fitting all wrong and he just wants to rip it off.
Brendon comes up for him from behind, draping his arms over Ryan’s shoulders and rests his head atop his. He’s clearly oblivious to Ryan’s struggle with the mirror. “Pete’s coming to the show tonight, are you excited?” He asks.
Ryan just shrugs. “I guess. I mean he’s probably just coming to see what all his money is paying for.”
Brendon chuckles. “He’s throwing us a big after party at Angels and Kings. Well I mean it’s not just for us, it’s also Patrick’s birthday but we’re invited so…”
Ryan sighs. “I don’t know. You know I hate parties.” They’re always too loud and too bright, people are always too handsy. He shudders just thinking about it.
Brendon looks a little saddened. “Cmon. It’s all people we know at this one at least. I promise it’ll be fun.” He gives him a puppy eyed look. “You can watch me eat my weight in cake.” He says, almost sing-song.
Ryan rolls his eyes. “I can think of a million things I’d rather watch.”
“Everyone else is going. Plus it’ll look shitty if everyone in the band is there besides you because you wanna be an antisocial grump.”
Ryan’s shoulders fall. “Fine. I’ll go for a little bit. I’m not staying the whole night though.”
Brendon smiles wide and kisses his cheek. “It’s gonna be so much fun. I promise.”
Pete shows up just as they’re waiting in the wings to go on. He hugs everyone and catches them up on what’s going on with his band. Ryan relaxes into the conversation, feeling normal for even just in that brief moment. He almost forgets about being nervous until someone comes up to attach his in-ears. Then everything comes into focus: the sound of the crowd, people rushing around to change set pieces as the creep closer to show time. He steps a little close to Brendon, trying to ground himself.
Ryan feels pressured to put on a good show, seeing as the dude who’s paying for it all is watching. Brendon is hamming it up wherever he can. He loves having an audience. Ryan wishes he had half that confidence. Thankfully he makes it through the show without feeling like he totally wants to die.
They barely have time to change out of their sweaty show clothes and scrub off their makeup before Pete announces their limo is here. Ryan’s a bit impressed but it feels overkill to do all this just for a dumb party.
In the back of the limo, Pete smiles as he presses a button and a mini bar rises up from one of the seats. “You guys thirsty? I’m not much of a bar tender but I think I can figure it out.”
Brendon grins, eager to do anything to impress Pete. “Yeah sure.”
Ryan elbows him. “You’re underage.”
Brendon rolls his eyes. “Shut up. Who cares?”
Ryan feels uneasy as he watches his bandmates and Pete do rounds of shots as they’re driven downtown. They all seem more than a little buzzed when they pile out.
Ryan blinks when they walk into the club. There’s a collective cheer when they walk in but Ryan assumes it’s mostly for Pete. Ryan knows they’re the newest on the label and, compared to the rest of the people in this room, they still have so much left to prove.
Brendon lets go of Ryan’s hand and makes a bee line for the bar. Booze is the last thing on Ryan’s mind, especially after that uncomfortable car ride. He’s still not much of a drinker even with it being offered all the time. Every time he lifts a bottle to his lips all he can think of is his father. He never wants to end up like that. It’s a vice too low even for him.
Ryan settles himself in a corner booth alone. He watches all the people around him. Some dancing to the beat of some electronic music while strobe lights flash. Some making out, pressed up against the wall near the bar. Plenty are guzzling shots like their life depends on it, he notices Brendon among them. He’s finally rattled out of his thoughts as someone sits down in the booth across from him.
Patrick smiles a bit and sets a plate of cake in front of Ryan. “Not your scene either, huh?”
Ryan shakes his head. “I only came so that Brendon would stop bothering me about it. Oh, and happy birthday by the way.”
Patrick takes a bite of his cake. “Thanks. I told Pete he didn’t need to throw a party but he insisted. Said he didn’t open a bar to not have fun in it.”
Ryan glances at Brendon enjoying himself then back to Patrick. “Sorry if I seem like a party pooper.” He shrugs.
Patrick shakes his head. “‘No. No. Not at all. It’s actually kind of nice to talk to someone who isn’t drunk. I think I’ve had to refuse Gabe’s offer of ‘birthday makeouts’ like four times now.”
Ryan laughs. “I’m sure he’ll find success with someone in this room. It’s only a matter of time with him.”
“That’s true.” Patrick smiles. “So how’s your tour going so far?”
“Kinda rough. I’m not used to going out there.” Ryan admits.
“Me either.” Patrick says as he finishes off his cake. “I got lucky though, and I just don’t wear my glasses when I’m on stage. Can’t be afraid of what you can’t see. I guess.”
Ryan nods. “I kinda wish I could just be like Brendon. He just goes out there like he was born for it. It doesn’t even phase him.”
“You know, I always thought the same thing about Pete. He’s the borne performer. I never wanted to be up there till he made me.” He pats Ryan’s arm. “It’ll get easier. I promise.”
Brendon, already pretty sloppy drunk, shoves himself in beside Ryan. He presses a shot glass into Ryan’s hand. “What are you doing moping in the corner?” He smiles when he finally notices Patrick. “Hey! Happy birthday man! Great party!”
“Thanks.” Patrick replies. “I’ll let you two be. It was nice talking to you Ryan. I’ll see you guys around.” He smiles and waves.
Brendon turns back to Ryan. “Cmon. Drink. Enjoy yourself. It won’t kill you to have some fun for once. I think someone around here has coke. You should try some. It might loosen you up a little.”
Ryan downs the shot just to appease him. He winces at the way the liquor burns when it goes down. The dull ache in the back of his throat just reminds him how it feels after he purges. “No thanks.” He shrugs. “I’m good. I think I’m just gonna stay here for a bit.”
Brendon looks down at the uneaten cake slice still on the table. “You gonna eat that?”
Ryan shakes his head and pushes the plate over to him. “All yours.” He watches as Brendon takes it and bounds back off to the party.
The shot doesn’t sit right in Ryan’s stomach. He’s glad there’s so many people around because at least then no one will ever think it’s him in the bathroom forcing his fingers down his throat.
Ryan starts making his way through the mass of people, trying to get out. He just wants to go back to the hotel. ‘Maybe sleep forever,’ he mumbles to himself. He’s stopped in his tracks when Brendon throws an arm around him, leaning into his side. If he was just sloppy drunk earlier, he’s completely wasted now. His blown pupils tell Ryan that booze isn’t the only thing he’s on.
“Whe’re you goin’?” Brendon slurs.
“Back to the hotel. I’m tired.”
Brendon smirks and slides his hand down to Ryan’s ass, squeezing it. Ryan bats it away quickly, knowing none of the people in this room are good at keeping secrets. “I’m coming with.” Brendon tells him. “But we should say bye to everyone first.”
Ryan relents and lets himself be dragged into conversation after uncomfortable conversation as Brendon has to tell practically everyone in the building he’ll see them later. He has to keep brushing off Brendon’s drunken advances in between. Brendon’s hands gravitate down to his ass, his wet lips press onto Ryan’s cheek. Ryan pushes his hands away, feeling a little uncomfortable.
By the time they make it into the cab, Ryan feels even more exhausted. He has no clue how Brendon does this all the time. How he seems to thrive off the energy of other people while it just drains the hell out of Ryan.
Brendon can’t keep his hands off Ryan even though he knows the cab driver is probably watching. He starts to unbuckle Ryan’s belt and frowns when his hand is pushed away.
“Knock it off. Not here.” He whispers sharply.
As they pull up to the hotel, Ryan pays the cab driver. Brendon stumbles out of the cab and grabs onto Ryan to stay upright. Ryan sighs as he helps him inside. Once in the privacy of the elevator, Brendon takes hold of Ryan’s face for a messy kiss.
Ryan nearly gives in but makes himself pull away. He’s not about to be caught in this damn public elevator. “You taste like a brewery.” He frowns.
Brendon rolls his eyes. “You honestly don’t taste that great yourself. Did you beat me to puking or something?”
Ryan steps off the elevator when it reaches their floor. “You know I can’t handle my liquor.” He says as an excuse.
It’s Brendon’s turn to roll his eyes. “Sure.”
Ryan unlocks the room and lets Brendon inside first. “What the fuck is that supposed to mean?”
Brendon barely has the sense to kick off his shoes before he flops on the bed. “Never mind.” He heaves a heavy sigh. He rolls over, facing his back to Ryan. He thankfully passes out not long after his head hits the pillow.
Ryan brushes his teeth as he gets ready for bed. He starts to get into the empty bed but stops. He lets out a sigh as he lifts the covers and moves to lay down next to Brendon. He convinces himself it would be warmer this way. He was always so damn cold lately. He closes his eyes and presses up to Brendon’s back.
All Brendon is aware of when he wakes is the incessant pounding behind his eyes. He feels weighed down as he starts to move and that’s when he notices Ryan’s hand resting on his stomach. He gently untangles himself from Ryan and gets up to find the bottle of aspirin that’s buried somewhere in his backpack.
“Morning.” Ryan mumbles as he rubs at his eyes.
Brendon frowns when he realizes the bottle is empty. “Got any?” He asks, holding it up.
Ryan nods and sits up, stretching. “Yeah. Hold on.” He yawns as he grabs his bag off the other bed. He tosses the bottle to him. “I’m a little surprised you’re upright before noon with everything you did last night.”
Brendon swallows the pills dry before handing the bottle back. He takes a bottle of water out of the hotel mini bar and chugs the whole thing in one go. “Me too. To be honest, I don’t even remember half of it.”
Ryan lays back against the headboard, yawning again.
“You wanna order room service?” Brendon asks as he pulls the menu out of the nightstand drawer. “Nothing cures a hangover better than hash browns and pancakes.”
“Just get me a coffee and a bowl of fruit or something. My stomach is still off from last night.” He lies smoothly.
Ryan settles in his bunk on the bus. He thinks it feels like his escape and his tomb all wrapped up in one. He can hear everyone else in the lounge fighting over rounds of Mario Kart. A fan gifted them a GameCube at their last signing and the guys have been hooked ever since.
He isn’t expecting Brendon to pull the curtain back, so he quickly scrambles to stuff his little black notebook under his pillow. He can’t let anyone know what I’m there. It has far too many secrets.
“You sure you don’t wanna play a few rounds?” Brendon asks, glancing over to where they guys are laughing in the lounge. “Just a sec!” He calls to them.
Ryan nods. “I’m sure. I have a headache.” The lies seem to slip off his tongue so easily these days. He makes a show of digging around in his bunk for his bottle of ibuprofen.
Brendon frowns. “Are you alright? Do you need anything?”
Ryan shakes his head. “I gonna take some medicine. Probably gonna take a nap. It’s just stress.”
Brendon nods. “Well we’re stopping in an hour. I think we’re gonna get Chinese food.”
“Sounds good.” Ryan just agrees. ‘Stick to your rules,’ he reminds himself.
A bit emboldened, Brendon leans in and kisses him. He smiles when he pulls away. He knows it pisses Ryan off when he does stuff like this where people could possibly see, but he is always push boundaries. “I’ll let you sleep. I’ll come get you when we stop.”
Ryan can’t hold back his blush and he quickly covers his face with his hands. “Alright.”
Brendon smiles and winks before closing the curtain.
A week later and they have three more shows under their belts. Only twenty two still left to go, much to Ryan’s chagrin. They have a day off today, though at this point all the cities blend together.
“We’re almost to Denver.” Jon supplies when Ryan asks. The bus is set to drop them at their hotel and then they’ll have the day off to do whatever they want.
Ryan watches Brendon talk excitedly with the others as he makes plans. Ryan always feels like he’s on the outside looking in at times like these. He sits, half awake, in the corner of the couch as he sips at a mug of coffee that's already gone cold.
“How about you, Ry?” Spencer askes, trying to drag Ryan into the conversation. “Anything you wanna see or do?”
Ryan shrugs. “Whatever you guys wanna do is fine.”
Spencer smiles excitedly. “Well first we’re going out to lunch. We looked it up and there’s this place a few blocks from the hotel that has rave reviews apparently. They were on one of those Food Network shows and they have awesome looking barbecue.”
Ryan stiffens a bit as he thinks of all those wasted calories. How everything will be covered in sticky, drippy sauce and the taste that will coat his mouth for hours afterward. He also knows that if he keeps skipping meals, Brendon will just get more suspicious. He decides he’ll go. Eat whatever is put in front of him. Sneak away at the soonest possible opportunity and purge it all. If he’s lucky he won’t have the heavy food weighing him down for long. Spencer must’ve noticed Ryan’s slow response because he waves a hand in front of his face.
Ryan breaks himself out of his thoughts and forces a smile. “Sounds great. I’m in.” He can’t help but notice how Brendon’s expression relaxes some when he agrees to eat.
Spencer regales the others with a story of how he and Ryan once finished off an entire box of barbecue chicken wings by themselves when they were like, eight. He makes fun of Ryan for eating the lion’s share of them, and jokes about how sick they felt after. Ryan smiles and plays along, but he remembers that day. What Spencer didn’t know was that he hadn’t eaten in three whole days. His dad was on another drinking binge and hadn’t bought food. Booze was more important. All that was in the kitchen was mouldy bread. He ate so much because he had no other choice. He had to eat what he could when he could, because he never really knew when his next meal would come. But no one really knows the dark secrets hidden in his childhood. He finds himself wishing that he could forget.
The bus pulls up to the hotel and they all pile out. There are a handful of fans screaming at them as they walk in but Zack keeps them back. Ryan half hears Spencer’s instructions to meet back in the lobby in 30 minutes. He quietly steps into the elevator. Brendon stands beside him and presses the button to the fifth floor.
“We’re in 509.” Brendon passes Ryan a key card.
Ryan nods and just follows Brendon to their room. He sets his backpack on the bed and sits down on the edge of it. He tells himself to snap out of whatever mood has decided to settle over him that day. That he’s just bringing everyone down. He takes his notebook from his bag and plucks the pen out of the spiral binding. Maybe he can just scribble in here for a bit and let his mind sort itself out. Brendon probably won’t question his mood if he can blame it on some idea he has stuck in his head. Brendon knows how he gets when he writes.
Brendon takes off his shoes and lays back on the other bed with the remote in hand. He flips through the channels to try and find something suitable for background noise. “You alright today? You seem kind of out of it.” He tries to ask in a way he hopes appears casual.
“Stop asking that. I’m fine.” Ryan sighs as he scrawls a string of words in his notebook. He scratches one of the words out and writes a new one below it. “Just had an idea stuck in my head. You know how it goes.”
Brendon settles on the news. Not that he cares. The news in Denver doesn’t really matter. They only have two days in this city then it’s off to the next. “Can I read it?” He asks.
Ryan just shrugs. “Maybe when it’s done. It’s not ready yet.”
They fall into a bit of a silence until Brendon tells Ryan it’s time to head down. Ryan takes a deep breath and tells himself that it will be okay. He doesn’t have to keep the food down. He just has to eat enough to keep Brendon and the others off his back. He pockets his phone and slides the notebook back in his bag before he follows Brendon out.
Spencer, Jon and Zack are waiting for them in the corner of the lobby that has a circle of leather arm chairs set up. Zack drives them to the restaurant in a rented van that has been dropped off for them.
Ryan dreads walking into the restaurant. He managed to shake most of the lunch outings so far, only giving in once in a while to keep the suspicion down. He hates it cause he never really knows exactly what he's consuming. Sure some places list calorie counts but most don’t. Everything is just an estimate. He can't control the way the food is prepared or what goes in it. The thought is enough to get his stomach turning. He sits down in the corner booth between Brendon and Spencer. He tries hard to force a smile and join in with their laughter, but all he can feel is the gnawing at the pit of his stomach as he looks over the menu. He debates the least caloric thing he can eat without being obvious. He settles on a barbecue chicken breast with a side of fries and a small salad. If most of the fries end up slipped in a napkin or dropped to the floor, well then that isn’t anyone’s business.
Ryan is a master at this by now. He takes bites whenever someone else is looking at him but when they aren’t he tucks bits of food into a napkin in his hoodie pocket. He pushes the rest of the food around to make it look like he eats more than he does. In the end he’s more than a little proud of himself for only eating half the meal. He excuses himself to go to the bathroom. He isn’t expecting Brendon to say the same and follow after him. Ryan ducks into one of the stalls and drops the napkin full of food into the toilet. He goes to the bathroom and flushes the toilet before walking out to wash his hands. He isn’t dumb enough to purge while he has witnesses. Besides, that’s against his rules. He knows he has to get rid of the food soon though. It already feels so heavy in his stomach. He sits back down in front of the others and gulps down the rest of his glass of water. It will just makes it easier to bring it all up later.
Once the bill is paid they climb back into the van. Ryan stares out the window. He doesn’t really care where they’re going or what they’re doing, he’s just along for the ride. Jon mentions something about needing to get a gift to send home for his girlfriend’s birthday. Twenty minutes later, Zack pulls into a lot and parks the van. Ryan sees the sign for the 16th Street Mall as they get out.
Brendon smiles and nudges Ryan’s side. “C’mon. I know you love shopping.”
Ryan shrugs. It feels like he doesn’t love much of anything these days. “Sometimes.” He follows after the other, peeking into the windows of galleries and trinket shops. He eyes the guys, trying to time his plan of sneaking away at just the right time. Finally he takes his chance. He tells Jon he’s going to grab a coffee from the cafe across the street while they’re busy browsing the shelves of some antique thrift shop thing. He’s thankful no one follows him this time. And even better, the cafe only has single stall bathrooms. He lost count of how many times he’s been on his knees in front of a toilet recently but it feels good to get the food out. He grimaces a bit as he struggles to get the chicken up but with one last heave he feels blissfully, wonderfully empty. He curses himself for leaving his backpack at the hotel with his toothbrush in it though. He tries to get the vomit taste out of his mouth best he can with just water from the sink and scrubbing his teeth with one of his fingers. He orders a black drip coffee on his way out and goes back to join the others.
“Can I talk to you about something?” Brendon asks Spencer since they’re finally alone.
Spencer nods and gives a kind smile. “Sure. What’s up?”
“I’m worried about Ryan. He’s been really off lately and he won’t tell me why.”
Spencer shrugs. “He’s just stressed out. We all are. He always gets a little moody when he’s stressed.”
Brendon shakes his head. “No. I think it’s more than that. It’s a bunch of little things I’ve noticed over the last few months and they’ve like intensified on tour. I think they’re adding up. He hasn’t been eating much lately. He kinda got a little better lately, but I think it’s cause now he knows I’m watching. At first I thought it was stress too but then the other night I saw how much skinnier he seems. And how he always goes to bathrooms after meals. I’m not sure if I’m like, seeing things or if he’s actually hiding something from me. I just need someone else’s opinion on this. I just want to see him happy.”
Spencer scratches his head. “I’m not sure. He’s always been really small. If he did lose weight it doesn’t seem like it’s been super dramatic or anything. I’ll keep an eye out though.”
Brendon looks down, feeling like Spencer isn’t taking his concern seriously. “I watch him a lot. He always seems so uncomfortable in front of mirrors. He, like, gets all upset looking and just stares at himself. It’s especially bad before shows. He always disappears after we eat. He always has some excuse. He doesn’t know I know, but I’ve caught him weighing himself twice. It isn’t like how people normally do it. He does it over and over again, like he has to make sure.” He finally looks back up at Spencer. “I know you’re going to say he’s always quiet but he’s not always this withdrawn and out of it.”
“What do you think we should do?” Spencer asks.
“I don’t know.” Brendon sighs. “I just wish I was better at getting him to open up to me. I only see it sometimes, bits and pieces in what he writes and stuff like that. I feel like I could help him if he just told me what was going on.”
Spencer examines some of the weird ceramic knickknacks on the shelf in front of him. “I dunno man, that’s a puzzle even I can’t crack and I’ve known him since kindergarten. You’ve got a better chance of hell freezing over than getting Ryan to talk about his feelings.”
Brendon purses his lips. “It can’t be healthy to bottle everything up all the time like that. It feels like he doesn’t trust me. I’m scared something is really wrong and that I’m not doing enough to stop it.”
Spencer shrugs again. “He does trust you. He’ll tell you stuff when he’s ready. I’m sure there’s plenty he hasn’t even told me. You know how stubborn he is.”
“I’m just worried about the whole ‘not eating’ thing.” Brendon admits. “I did some research the other night and it’s like a legitimate mental disorder. People die from it.”
Spencer sets an odd little gnome sculpture back down. “I’m sure it’s not that bad. Surely if it was. It’d be pretty obvious. Like how it is with all those supermodels on tv and stuff.”
“I caught him puking on the bus awhile back.” Brendon’s tone shifts to worry. “He said he had a bad sandwich at the venue. He never had a sandwich. I offered him half of mine and he turned it down. I know for a fact he didn’t eat that day. Which means he did it to himself.”
Spencer turns to look at him. “I’m sure it’s just a coincidence. It has to be.” He isn’t sure who he’s trying to convince more, Brendon or himself. “Like I said, it would be way more obvious if he was struggling. You know how much Ryan hates being fussed over. Maybe it’s best to just leave him be.”
“I’m scared though. I don’t want to just ‘leave it be’. I just...how do I even go about asking him?” Brendon ponders. “I can’t just saunter up to him and be like ‘hey dude, I think you have an eating disorder. Maybe you should fix that.’ That would never work. He’d just deny it.”
Ryan has been hiding at the end of the aisle, listening in to their conversation. At first he is almost paralyzed by fear. Brendon knows his secret. He feels so stupid for letting himself slip up like this. No one was ever supposed to know about his dumb little problem. Once the fear starts to subside it’s replaced by anger. He’s mad at Brendon of course, but he’s mostly mad at himself. He steps out of his hiding spot and clears his throat. “That’s the thing, though. You don’t ask.” His voice is low and clearly angry. He looks at both men as turn around with shocked expressions. “I don’t appreciate when people talk about me behind my back. Mind your own damn business.”
“We weren’t talking behind your back. You know it wasn’t like that!” Brendon defends. “It’s a legitimate concern. I’m fucking worried about you, dude.”
Ryan throws his arms up, exasperated. “How many times did I tell you don’t worry about it? You never fucking listen, do you?” They’re starting to attract the attention of other people in the store. He hears Zack come up behind him and put a hand on his shoulder. He quickly shakes him off.
“Hey, hey, guys. Let’s calm down.” Zack tries to interject.
Brendon just ignores him, focusing in on Ryan. “Talking to you is like talking to a brick wall sometimes, so excuse me if I wanted some advice. No one asked you to eavesdrop on a private conversation.”
“No one asked you to psychoanalyze me either! You know what? Fuck this. I told you to leave it alone and you didn’t. Clearly you don’t trust me to handle myself. I’m not going to be treated like a toddler.” He spins on his heel and evades Zack’s grabbing hands as he rushes out of the shop. He hurries out and disappears into the crowd shopping plaza before the others can see which way he went. He’ll be back for the show… maybe.
Spencer just stands there, looking dumbfounded at the whole situation as he watches Brendon take off after Ryan.
Brendon stops in the middle of the walkway, looking in all directions. He gives a frustrated groan and slams his fists into his thighs. “Where the fuck did he go?” He has tears welling in his eyes.
“Maybe he just went back to the hotel? He can’t have gone too far. But, maybe we should split up to look for him just in case.” Spencer suggests.
Zack shakes his head. “No. I’m sending you guys in a cab back to the hotel. I’ll call a couple of the other security guys and we’ll go look for him.”
“I’m coming with you.” Brendon says firmly.
“No you’re not. If he’s pissed at you it’s only going to make the situation worse. You know how Ryan gets when he’s mad. Go back to the hotel and wait.”
Ryan hops in the first cab he sees and askes the driver to take him anywhere that is as far away as he can get from this stupid mall. He ends up in front of some dive bar. His phone says it’s only 3pm. It isn’t too early to drink, right? He silences the buzzing of his phone and ignores the dozens of missed messages and calls and heads inside.
What the hell does Brendon know anyway? He thinks to himself as he sits down at the bar. He has no clue what it’s like to live in Ryan’s head. He bets Brendon couldn’t last a day without crumbling under the pressure, without cracking from the self hatred. How can Brendon just assume he knows what’s going on? How could he tell Spencer? Now they are both going to be breathing down his neck. No. They don’t know, he thinks to himself. And if he has his way, they never will.
He doesn’t like booze but he’ll do anything to kill the urge to self destruct. He wants his brain turned off. Is he about to be reckless and stupid and maybe ruin the only good thing happening in his life? Definitely. Is he going to regret it later? Probably. Does that matter in this moment in time? Not at all.
The bartender, some dude in his early thirties, recognizes him immediately and confesses to being a fan of the band. Ryan asks him if he has tickets to the show tomorrow. He says he does. He offers Ryan a drink without asking for his ID. He’s probably well aware that Ryan’s underage. Ryan orders a whiskey. His dad’s drink of choice. How fitting.
There’s only a handful of other patrons in the bar so the bartender ends up striking up a conversation. Normally Ryan would’ve just ignored him, but with a bit of liquid courage in him, he’s a lot more talkative.
“So what’s it like being up on stage like that? I bet it’s amazing.” The bartender asks as he wipes down the bar top. “I’m Trevor, by the way.”
Ryan shrugs. “It’s not as great as it seems. Can’t see much while you’re getting blinded by spotlights. It’s a little unnerving knowing everyone is watching you. It’s hot, sweaty and loud.”
“That’s the best part of shows!” He insists. “Why did you get into music then if you don’t like performing?” He asks.
Ryan has asked himself that same question probably a thousand times this tour alone. “We got signed before we ever played a show. It was just kind of by chance.”
“Pete Wentz must’ve really believed in you guys then.” Trevor shrugs as he pours Ryan another drink.
“I kind of insulted him. I wrote him a comment on his LiveJournal. I told him that my band was better than his band or something stupid like that, and linked our demo. I think he was prepared to tell us exactly how much we sucked but instead he didn’t. So moral of the story, always insult your heroes, I guess.” Ryan gladly accepts the drink, downing it quickly.
“You have no idea how much I’d kill to be up there.”
Ryan nods. “That’s the thing. Out of the millions that would kill for the chance, only a handful ever get lucky. The music business is a cruel bitch.”
Trevor smiles. “I’d trade it for bartending any day of the week.”
Ryan gives a sad smile as he sets the empty glass down. “Careful what you wish for.”
Brendon is pissed at himself when he gets back to the hotel room. Why couldn’t he have just kept his big dumb mouth shut and saved that conversation for later where there wasn’t a chance of Ryan overhearing? He picks up a pillow and throws it across the room. It knocks Ryan’s backpack off the bed, two notebooks and some clothes fall out of it. Brendon goes to pick them up and put them back. He realizes he recognizes one of the notebooks but doesn’t with the other. He feels guilt rise up in him as he holds the black covered notebook in his hands. He knows he shouldn’t want to read it, but he does. It’s probably just song lyrics, right? Ryan’s never hesitated sharing them before. After another long moment of contemplation he takes the notebook and sits down on his bed.
He turns to the first page. It seems to be some sort of diary. The entries are dated. There are a set of numbers in the right hand margin beside each entry. Brendon is confused about what they mean. He frowns as he reads the first few entries.
‘12-2-03 I gave in for the first time today. I don’t regret it. I probably should. 120, 386, 800 P’
‘12-6-03 I think I wanna stop. I feel so dizzy. But it’ll be worth it, right? 0 P.’
‘12-10-03 Spencer and his mom insisted we go out for milkshakes. I can never say no to them but I’ve learned my lesson. Now I’ll have to work harder to get it off. 0, 820, 0.’
‘12-11-03 new rules. 1.) no one can know. ever. 2.) p only when no one is around to hear. 3.) more than 900 in a day means a fast for the next. 4.) when someone makes me eat, just do it and get rid of it later. 5.) always have a pre planned excuse…”
He flips forward to the most recent page that’s written on. The notebook is almost full with close to four years worth of entries. All of them are similar. A vague sentence or two, sometimes more. They seem to get more self deprecating as time goes on. The numbers in the right hand margin get lower. Some of them have ‘P’ with multiple tally marks after it. Brendon doesn’t know what any of it means. He feels even more guilty for having read it. Ryan’s gonna kill him if he finds out. He hurries to put the notebook back in the bag. Now he feels almost like he knows too much and yet not enough at the same time. He wonders if he should go back and read more.
He doesn’t.
At least not right away. He makes it about fifteen minutes before he gets back up and grabs the notebook again. He takes a deep breath as he opens it up. He looks back at the first page. 2003. His best friend has been dealing with this for at least three years. Who knows if there was a notebook before this? This had been going on the entire time he’d known Ryan so it’s no wonder he didn’t notice it sooner.
He vows to himself that he’s going to do something about it. He’s gonna confront Ryan. With what he finds out from the notebook he feels like he now knows what to look out for. He reads page after page of Ryan tearing himself down. Brendon swears he must see the word ‘fat’ at least a hundred times. It makes his heart ache to know Ryan feels this way about himself. He has to stop himself about halfway through because he can’t read anymore through the tears.
It’s the next day. They’re supposed to be on stage in an hour and a half. Everyone is frantic because Ryan still hasn’t shown back up. Brendon’s drained his phone twice trying to call Ryan nonstop. Zack tries to assure them that he has his guys turning the city upside down to find him. He doesn’t mention that he spent the morning calling every police station, jail and hospital in the area. Just to be on the safe side.
The door opens and everyone turns, holding their breath. They expect it to be more venue staff or security but are surprised that it’s Ryan. He’s still drunk as hell. He has the same clothes on from the day before but now they’re all grass stained because he slept in the park. He reeks of booze. He sways on his feet as he walks to the catering table and grabs a beer off it. He’s really starting to turn out like his old man now, maybe it’s all just bad genetics. Maybe fate is just a cruel bitch, he thinks.
Everyone just kinda stares in shock, but Zack’s the first to react. He grabs the bottle out of Ryan’s hand and sets it back on the table. “Where the fuck have you been?”
Ryan just grabs another bottle off the table. “Doesn’t matter. I’m here now.”
Zack takes that one too. “You’re fucking drunk? Where the hell did you get booze? You’re not even legal”
Ryan rolls his eyes. “It doesn’t matter.”
Zack stares him down with a look that says he’d beat his ass given half the chance. “Get cleaned up and get dressed. You have a fucking show to do.”
Ryan mimics him in a whiny voice. “Waaah you got a fucking show to do. Shut up. You aren’t my mom.”
Zack shakes his head. “You’re on thin fucking ice, Ross. Knock it off.” He turns him around and points him to his road case.
Ryan ignores the hurt looks from Brendon as he walks over to his wardrobe case. He pulls his outfit off the hanger and takes it to the bathroom to change. No one needs to see his fat disgusting body. And if he throws up? Well now he at least has the booze to blame. He stands in front of the mirror as he buttons up his pants. He grimaces as he notices the way they dig into his hips. He needs to try harder to keep the weight off. No one will want him at this rate. He jumps at the knock on the door. “What?” He calls out.
“Can I come in?” Brendon asks.
“Why? You wanna watch me shit?” Ryan replies.
“I know you’re not on the toilet. You’re too close to the door.” Brendon tells him.
Ryan hurries to put his shirt on then turns the door knob, letting it swing open.
Brendon steps inside and closes the door. He wrinkles his nose at the acrid smell of vomit. He’s still worried about his friend. All the anxiety has been eating him up since their fight. He barely slept last night and the bags under his eyes show it. “I’m really sorry about yesterday. You were right. I probably shouldn’t have talked to Spencer.”
Ryan turns his back to Brendon. “You’re right. You shouldn’t have.” His voice doesn’t have nearly the amount of anger in it that it did yesterday.
“I’m just worried about you and I needed to talk to someone about it. I wanted to make sure I wasn’t just seeing things.”
Ryan freezes. “I told you a hundred times now not to worry. I’m fine.”
Brendon looks down at the floor. “But I know you’re not fine.”
Ryan finally turns around. “What the hell is that supposed to mean?” He’s terrified that his carefully crafted shell truly is crumbling around him.
“You know what it means.” Brendon says, voice flat. “I-I kind of saw your notebook. Everything makes sense now. I’m right, aren’t I? You starve yourself.” He struggles to get his words out. “Why didn’t you just say something?”
Ryan sees red as he clenches his fists at his sides. “Going against my wishes wasn’t enough so you gotta read my diary now too? Get out.” He points at the door.
“I would’ve put it together with or without the notebook. Did you really expect me to not notice that you’ve lost that much weight? That you make excuses every time there’s food around? That you run to bathrooms whenever you do eat?” He takes a step closer. “It’s not shameful to ask for help.” Brendon tries to speak as gently as he can.
“You don’t know what you’re talking about.” Ryan narrows his gaze. “Mind your own fucking business, and get out.”
“Ry-“
Ryan holds a hand up, cutting him off. “Don’t. You invaded my fucking privacy. That’s not okay.”
“I didn’t do it on purpose.” Brendon tries to say.
“Oh, I suppose it just fell into your lap then? You want my fucking trust so bad but you’re seemingly ready to violate it whenever it’s convenient for you.”
Brendon looks down at his feet. “I thought it was the notebook you had song lyrics in, I swear.”
“That doesn’t make it any better. It means you went through my bag to get it either way.” He sighs and pinches the bridge of his nose. “How much did you read?”
“About half.”
“Jesus fucking Christ, Brendon.” He shakes his head as he turns away from him.
Brendon swallows hard. “I’m sorry. I know it was wrong. But you never tell me anything and I just want to help.” His voice fades a bit. “All I want to do is help.”
“What the hell do you want to know that you didn’t already read?” He asks.
“You don’t have to be afraid to talk to me.” Brendon speaks gently. “You know I’d never judge you or anything like that.”
Ryan’s shoulders fall as he slowly loses his resolve to fight. “It’s not your judgment I’m afraid of. Too late for that. Not everything is about you. Some things are just too complicated to put into words.” He leans against the wall. “You can’t save what’s already broken.”
“I never said it was about me. I just don’t think puking your feelings into a toilet is exactly a healthy way to live.”
“You don’t know what you’re talking about.” He steps back from him. He just wants out of this conversation, and if the only way to end it is to not play into it then so be it.
“You might be able to lie to everyone including yourself, but you can’t lie to me.”
“Just leave me alone. I’m not in the mood. I’ve had enough of your shit already.” He looks into the mirror as he buttons up his shirt.
“So you’re telling me if I kiss you right now, you’re not gonna taste like you just threw up?” Brendon challenges.
Ryan sighs and changes tactics. Maybe ignoring him will finally get him to leave. He threads the scarf for his costume through his belt loops and ties it above his left hip. To him the pants feel tight when in reality they’re barely clinging to his hips.
Brendon strides closer to him, not one to be ignored. He cups Ryan’s face in both of his hands as he kisses him. He pulls back after a moment with a frown. “I don’t understand why you’d do this to yourself.” He slides his hands down Ryan’s sides. “You’re so fucking beautiful.”
Deep down Ryan wants nothing more than to give in to Brendon, to believe him, but he can’t. Ryan shakes his head and tries to pull away. “You don’t understand.”
Brendon hooks a finger under Ryan’s chin and doesn't let him shrink away. “Then make me understand.” He turns them so that they are both facing the mirror, standing just behind him. “Tell me what you don’t like.”
Ryan shuts his eyes tight and shakes his head. “Don’t do this to me. I’m not in the mood. I can’t…”
Brendon feels his heart ache as he sees the way Ryan’s expression instantly changes. “Open your eyes baby.” He says gently. “Open them and tell me.”
Reluctantly, Ryan opens them and looks in the mirror. He swallows hard as he sees the reflection of his father for a brief moment. No. He wasn’t him. Would never be him. He isn’t dying alone in Vegas cause he drank himself to the point of liver failure. He pushes that thought to the back of his mind, and tries hard to focus on Brendon instead.
“Tell me what you don’t like.” Brendon prompts again, taking hold of one of his hands and giving it a squeeze.
Ryan shuts his eyes again, not being able to stand the sight of himself. “Allofit.” He mumbles.
“What?”
Ryan is quickly getting overwhelmed. “All of it. I fucking hate myself and this isn’t fucking helping.” He pulls away, quickly wiping the tears that build in the corners of his eyes.
“All I want to do is help.” Brendon tries to assure. “Cause I love you.”
Ryan shakes his head. “Don’t say things you don’t mean.”
“I do mean it.”
Ryan stills. “You shouldn’t.” His voice cracks.
“But I still do. I love you. Even if you don’t love me back.” Brendon takes a step closer.
“I…” He gulps and trails off. “I do. I-I love you too, but you deserve someone way less broken.”
Brendon pulls Ryan into his arms. “Maybe you’re a little broken, but that doesn’t mean you’re beyond repair. I’m willing to help piece you back together.”
Ryan just hides his face into Brendon’s neck and tries his hardest to hold back tears, shaking from the effort.
“Are you gonna be okay to do the show?” Brendon asks.
After a long moment, Ryan takes a deep breath to steady himself and nods. “Just let me do my makeup. I’ll be okay.”
Reluctantly, Brendon lets him go. He checks the time on his phone. “You’ve got less than like thirty minutes. Text me if you need anything, okay?” He looks down again. “I’m really sorry for reading your journal. I knew it was wrong, I just... we can talk later, right?”
He agrees just to get him out of the room. Once he’s alone, Ryan collapses onto the stool near the table with the mirror. That conversation feels like it took everything out of him and just left him feeling uncomfortably raw. Brendon knows his dirty secret but he doubts Brendon knows how deep it really goes. He purposely kept that diary vague just in case someone did read it. He doubts Brendon knows what most of it means anyway. It’s his own little code.
He does his makeup the best he can with trembling hands until his phone starts buzzing in his pocket. He assumes it’s Brendon texting him but when it doesn’t stop going off he glances at the screen. It’s a number he doesn’t recognize but it has a Vegas area code. Holding his breath, he answers.
His heart feels like it stops when he hears the words spoken by the lady on the other end. “I’m sorry to tell you that your father passed away in his sleep this afternoon. You were listed as his next of kin but I don’t have an address for you. I need to have somewhere to send the paperwork. Again, I’m deeply sorry for your loss.”
Ryan feels numb as he gives her the address to the management office. He knew this day was bound to come, but he doesn’t expect it to hit him this hard.
When he’s done with the call he just sits there in silence, holding his head in his hands as memories flash in his mind. He tries his best to push them down. After all, he has a show to do.