HOME | DD

Description
"Jon! Man, are we glad to have you back," Brendon's chirpy, overly-cheerful voice cut through my thoughts as I stared at the piece of paper in front of me. For some reason, everything I tried to write came out along the lines of "Lips ghost across skin," or "fingers trail down hips" or... Well, you get the point.

"Ryan!" I jumped, quickly shutting my notebook, and turned to an also overly-happy Jon. "Miss me, kid?"

"You have no idea," I sighed, rolling my eyes as I threw the notebook into my bunk. Maybe I could write some sensible lyrics later. Lyrics that didn't have to do with-

"Brendon!" Spencer's laugh followed the sound of... well, it sounded like mini-marbles hitting the floor.

"Fuck... Skittles, man," I heard Brendon loudly announce, laughing. He staggered into the room, a huge grin on his face. "Ryannnn..." He dragged my name out, and I stared at him in confusion, while Jon watched with an amused expression. Brendon grabbed my hand, pulling me after him into the main room of the van, the both of us stepping on skittles. Jon followed close behind us, a smirk on his face and his arms crossed. I was more than a little uncomfortable; Bren and I tried to avoid each other around anyone else, in case they could feel the same electricity running through us as we did.

"What? Brendon," I whined. "Let gooo, I left my drink in there- Woah!" He twirled me back around to face him, since I'd been pulling toward the room, and I felt the blush rise in my cheeks, even as he lifted our hands and pulled back, drawing me in close... And kissed me.

As soon as I realized what was going on, I pulled back, clamping my hands down over my mouth and backing right into Jon. He blocked my retreat into the other room, so I slid down until my back was pressed against his legs. Everyone else was cracking up, and Jon stepped back, holding onto the door frame for support. I fell back, finally letting my hands fall, feeling confused, embarrassed, flustered, and a number of other things.

Brendon stood, grinning widely and holding out his hand to me, which I ignored. "What... The fuck... Was that?!" I exclaimed, leaning back on my hands and glaring stonily at him. He shrugged.

"They already knew."

Spencer paused in his cracking up just long enough to manage to stutter out, "You should have- seen his face- Ryan... It was- was almost- as good as yours. He- he dropped his skittles- and was like- he went all- fuck this- and stood up, then went- f-fuck skittles, and, well..." He cracked up again, doubling over and falling into a seat. "You know the rest."

I gawked. "H-how did you guys know?"

"We were waiting," Jon spoke up, still snickering. "We figured it'd happen eventually, you know, so it was only a matter of time..."

"I... Fucking... hate you guys," I groaned, falling back onto the floor (and skittles) and covering my face with my hands. Man, I had to be blushing so much right now. I was suddenly lifted into the air, and, flustered once again, my hands scrabbled up and around the neck of none other than Brendon. I sat there in his arms for a minute, terrified, then got annoyed at his big, cocky grin. "Put. Me. Down, Brendon," I growled, and he laughed.

"Aww, Ryan, don't be like that... Come on."

"No."

"Please?"

"No."

"Even if I pout?" He knew that got me.

"No."

"Fine," he muttered, and went to set me down, then stopped. "Would you be happier with me if I took you shopping?" I paused, pondering the thought, and felt the want to go shopping slowly creep over me, becoming an almost uncontrollable urge to go shopping, get new clothes...

"Fine," I muttered, trying to keep my mood dark, but hey; Brendon was taking me shopping. I was cool with that.

---

"Oooh, Brendon, come on!" Ryan grabbed my hand and dragged me forward, bending down to examine a designer vest. (I didn't know they had designer vests, but whatever.) With a flourish and a grin, he slipped it on, modeling for me. "What do you think?"

"Hmm?" I was distracted, not by Ryan for once, but someone else, who was continuously giving us dirty looks. I gave him a grin. "It looks great, Ryan. You should totally get that." I wasn't lying, either; it did look great on him. Certain articles of clothing, I've found, just fit Ryan. I don't know how it works.

"Really?" He looked into a mirror, turning sideways and adjusting it, yanking on it a bit.

"For serious, Ryan," I said, walking forward and hugging him from behind, grabbing his hands as I did so and holding onto them. "It looks amazing." I watched in the mirror as his blush grew.

"It looks better with you on it, Bren, I'm not going to lie," he said, then laughed, pulling away and taking it off swiftly, moving instead to the shirts.

The guy gave me a very dirty glare, which was returned with as much vehemence as I could muster, then stalked out of the store.

---

"Thank you, Brendon!" If there was a way to 'squee' in real life, Ryan would have been doing it. He had this really nice, sincere smile that lit up his face, and I couldn't help but smile myself. He was just so happy, and after the Pete thing... I was more than glad for it. He threw his arms around me, still smiling that little anime-boy-worthy smile, complete with slight blush. It surprised me a little, but I smiled and hugged him back, laughing.

"It's fine, Ryan."

"Oh, yeah!" He pulled away, fishing through one of his large bags. "When I was checking out, I bought this... It was only a dollar, but I think it's cute. The owner's daughter makes them." He pulled from his bag a small bracelet, holding it up for me and smiling. It was one of those bead bracelets, black and white checkered , except for the text blocks on there. I stared at it in shock, the words seeming to scream at me.

I love you.

"Do... You like it?"

"No, Ryan, I lo-"

"Okay, really?" I turned, and there he was, the guy from the store, fuming. "There are kids here; what you're doing is disgusting," he spat out the last word. "Have some manners and at least save that shit until it's just the two of you. No one wants to see it." I know I was shocked, but one look at Ryan told me all I needed to know about how he felt. A rage grew in me as he slowly lowered his hands, still holding onto the small bracelet with both hands.

I turned to the guy, furious. "Fuck you, man, we're allowed to do whatever you want. And it's better than those guys," I said, gesturing to a young couple that were practically slobbering all over each other.

"The difference, buddy, is that they're not fags!" He seemed outraged that a homosexual would talk back to him. It only made me angrier, especially when I saw the blank look on Ryan's face, eyes widened in shock and mouth hanging open slightly.

"There's nothing wrong with us!" I argued, practically yelling. "The only person who has something wrong with them is you, you fucking homophobe!"

"Me?" The guy sneered. "I'm not the one sticking my dick in some guys ass, you freak!" Ryan's hands lowered so that he was no longer holding the bracelet with both hands, and it hung loosely from a few hooked fingers.

"It's probably better than all that stretched shit you have to deal with. Wait... That might be true if you got anything. Stop being jealous. Come on," I turned and grabbed Ryan's free hand, planning to lead him away, but he was still staring, and what the guy said next stopped me cold.

"And you." He was obviously talking to Ryan. "You're the worst. You might as well be a fucking girl, and you act like some lovesick child. You reek of gay, you fag!"

That was it. I turned, releasing Ryan's hand to throw myself at the dude, my anger almost blinding. I slammed my fist into the dude's face, and down we went, but it turned out that the guy actually knew how to fight, and this time I wasn't much of a match. After a few minutes of scrambling, I ended up on the bottom, arms covering my face and pulling my legs up in protection as Ryan dropped everything and began to scream at us to stop, begging, but the guy didn't listen until some passerby managed to pull him off.

Ryan was by my side in an instant, eyes wide with panic and worry. "Brendon, Brendon, are you okay?" he practically begged, and I rolled onto my hands and knees, actually coughing and spitting up blood. I turned to the guy, furious, and bolted to my feet, but some other people held me back as well, determined not to let us fight again.

"Brendon!" Ryan moved in front of me, and I gave him a good one-over. Hat, scarf, vest, and fingerless gloves, stylish shirt and pants, designer shoes, the whole lot. His feminine face, etched with worry. His brown eyes, widened for the same reason. But beyond the worry, far enough down that I was probably the only one who could see it right then, was this intense hurt that made me want to just kill the homophobe. "Brendon, please!" He grabbed my shoulders, his back to the guy, and looked directly into my eyes. I found myself unable to tear my gaze away, not even needing it when he moved his hands to my face, cupping it. "Brendon, please, let's just go."

I stared at him for a moment, then sighed, nodding my head and relaxing, and the guys holding onto me released me cautiously. I helped him grab his bags, and he slipped the bracelet onto my wrist with a small smile. I smiled back, despite everything, and the guy decided to do the stupidest thing imaginable.

"Yeah, you'd better run, faggots."

Ryan grabbed my hand to lead me away, and for a moment I thought he was just going to take it, but he suddenly turned, drawing back his leg, and nailing the guy in the nuts. And it wasn't a soft kick, either; it made me wince. Everyone holding the guy let go from shock, and he sank to the floor. I started to crack up, but Ryan suddenly tugged on my hand, running and not stopping until we'd reached the car, where both of us erupted into laughter.

---

I was appalled.

I was crushed, I was shocked, I was hurt, and most of all... I was depressed.

I'd tried to rape Ryan? What? Where on earth did that come from?

I sighed, stomping into the van and past a rather disinterested looking Andy, who was perched on a random stool reading a book. I was still holding the bloody tissue to my mouth, the flurry of emotions rushing through my head as I paused by the bathroom, hearing the shower. I opened the door, peeked my head in, only to have Joe tell me it was him and not Patrick, almost too calmly.

I shut the door, and only felt worse, sitting there and brooding for a minute before throwing away the tissue. I sighed, and turned to storm away, but Andy stopped me. "Pete, you honestly didn't think it was going to come back and bite you in the ass sometime?" He didn't even lift his head from the book, and I could see his eyes still sliding across the page.

"What are you talking about?" I snapped, almost too defensive.

"I'm talking..." He paused, flipping a page. "About you and Pat. And not just you two; you and Brendon, you and Ryan... And they don't even want to do anything."

"What? What're you... How did you find out?" I had been all prepared to argue, but hey; it was Andy. The fight just kind of seeped out of me. He's almost like... Our 'guru' or sorts. He just 'knows' things.

"I can tell, Pete." He lifted his eyes for a moment, focusing me with this little 'trust me' look. "When it comes to you, I can tell." And with that, he returned back to his book as if nothing were wrong. I sat there for a minute, staring at him, then held out my hands, waiting for more, but he just fixed with another brief look. That was his 'that's it' look, too. I sighed, turning and walking through the van, sliding into my bed.

"...Pete?"

"What, Pat?" I grumbled, a little bit more sharply than I meant to.

"Is... There any way I can help you right now?" I sighed, and Pat slid the curtain to my bunk, which I had closed, open a little, crouching down on the floor and kneeling in. I turned my head to stare at him, gray eyes widened in worry, brow furrowed and slightly dispositioning the ever-present hat on his head, blonde hair hanging in his eyes... Staring at his hair, I was pushed to run a hand through my own.

"I... Fucked up, Pat."

---

"Holy, shit, Brendon, what happened?'

"Pat?" Brendon looked over at him, surprised, as I skipped up, giddy and in a great mood. "We went shopping and beat up a homophobe!" I declared brightly, hanging onto Bren's arm. "And I finished him off!"

"Ry- you... Did? What?"

"Just... Long story," Bren waved him away, ignoring a very hyper and giddy me, still clinging to that arm of his, even as I leaned my head against his shoulder, wrapping both my arms around his single one. "Why're you here, Pat?"

"Oh! Pat's here to help me bring in bags. Right, Pat?" I asked, then bounced off towards the car again, dragging Pat with me this time. I loaded him up, grabbing one for myself and not feeling a drop of guilt as I ran up to Bren and jumped on his back. He kind of 'oof'ed and staggered forward, but I wrapped my arms around his shoulders, snuggling against him, total anime-style. "Don't worry, Brendon, I'll take care of you when we get inside..." I pushed my lips into a pout. "I know it has to hurt." He shook his head, heading into the bus, but I lowered my voice, growing serious. "Seriously... Thanks." I could feel and hear the different tone in my voice, and he stopped just before climbing the first step on the bus.

"No problem, Ryan. What he said was a bunch of bullshit anyway." He shrugged, heading back in, and I sombered up, resting my chin on his shoulder.

"Not all of it," I argued. "He's right; I do reek of gay."

"And that's a bad thing?"

"Maybe. Is it?"

"Do you care?"

"Should I?"

"No." He set me down, as Pat struggled up the stairs with the rest of my bags, and I bit my lip, looking up at him and feeling once more like a little kid as he did nothing but stare at me. It was almost intimidating, that stare. It was like he was picking me apart, figuring out my thoughts. I've always hated that stare; thankfully, he doesn't use it much. He sighed, leaving Pat to flump onto one of the seats with my bags, and grabbed my hand, pulling me into the next room, telling Spence and Jon to get out, we were having a 'serious talk'.

They took one look at him and agreed, walking out and sliding the door shut, and Brendon locked it behind them, turning to me. I don't know if any of you guys know this, but Brendon can be very convincing if he feels like it. If you look at him, you can just tell he's persuasive.

"Ryan." He leaned forward, grabbing my shoulders and gently yet firmly pushing me down into a couch. "Listen." He sat on his knees beside me, fixing with the most serious look he could muster. "That guy... Doesn't even deserve to live, in my opinion."

"How could you say that? That's what he thinks about us."

"No... Let me rephrase that; I don't think he deserves to... Live with any form of luxury. He should be... He should live on the fucking street, for what he said to you alone. It's different with me hating him, because I hate him because of personality and his own judgementalism, where he hates us because of our sexuality. Ryan, look at me," I'd looked down, but couldn't resist those eyes, pulling me in, making me listen.

"Brendon, I'm fine, I just... Need some time. After a while, it all builds up, you know?"

"Yeah, I do, and I'm telling you: Don't listen to anyone like that. Ever. I like you just the way you are..." I looked back up at him again, only to find him extremely close, and I felt my lips part without me even telling them to, and our lips connected. I closed my eyes, raising my hand and twining it into Brendon's hair as he pushed me gently back, so that we were laying on the mini-couch, with him pressed tightly against me, kissing me probably more passionately than he ever had. I kissed back, loosing myself in the moment, as my hands went to his shirt, untucking it. One of his own moved to my vest, struggling to unbutton it and get it off, and he finally broke away, focusing his attention on my clothing. "You wear too many damn layers, Ryan," he muttered, and I couldn't help but chuckle. I raised my hands to help him out, but jumped when someone knocked on the door. Did they always have to interrupt? Brendon raised his head, staring at the door with the look he got when he was pissed. "What?" he called out, voice tinged with annoyance.

"Uhm... Brendon?"

"Oh, shit! Pat! Sorry..."

"Fucking... People... Always interrupting us," I muttered, censoring myself as much as possible, but I could only do so much. Brendon hopped off of me, and staggered over to the door, disheveled. He opened the door, to a sheepish Pat, whose expression soon changed when he saw Brendon with his shirt halfway untucked, hair mussed, and me in a similar state and still laying on the couch.

"Uhm, am I... Interrupting something?" A smile ended up twitching on the side of his mouth, which I saw when I let my head slide off the couch so I could look at him upside down.

"Wait..." I rolled off the couch, landing on my hands and knees, never taking my eyes from him. The smile twitched again, and you could tell quite plainly he was trying to keep it from showing. Brendon stared between the two of us, starting to get where I was going. "Were you... In on it, too?"

"G...G..." His face split into a big grin, and he laughed, in his little quieter way, no where near as uproarious as our bandmates had been, but frustatingly enough as it was. He finally stopped, and managed to get out, "Guilty as charged," before looking at my glare and cracking up again.

"Uhm, well anyway," Brendon said, a forced brightness to his voice. He knew I wasn't really angry; slightly irked, yes, but not honestly mad. "What was it you wanted?"

Description
"Jon! Man, are we glad to have you back," Brendon's chirpy, overly-cheerful voice cut through my thoughts as I stared at the piece of paper in front of me. For some reason, everything I tried to write came out along the lines of "Lips ghost across skin," or "fingers trail down hips" or... Well, you get the point.

"Ryan!" I jumped, quickly shutting my notebook, and turned to an also overly-happy Jon. "Miss me, kid?"

"You have no idea," I sighed, rolling my eyes as I threw the notebook into my bunk. Maybe I could write some sensible lyrics later. Lyrics that didn't have to do with-

"Brendon!" Spencer's laugh followed the sound of... well, it sounded like mini-marbles hitting the floor.

"Fuck... Skittles, man," I heard Brendon loudly announce, laughing. He staggered into the room, a huge grin on his face. "Ryannnn..." He dragged my name out, and I stared at him in confusion, while Jon watched with an amused expression. Brendon grabbed my hand, pulling me after him into the main room of the van, the both of us stepping on skittles. Jon followed close behind us, a smirk on his face and his arms crossed. I was more than a little uncomfortable; Bren and I tried to avoid each other around anyone else, in case they could feel the same electricity running through us as we did.

"What? Brendon," I whined. "Let gooo, I left my drink in there- Woah!" He twirled me back around to face him, since I'd been pulling toward the room, and I felt the blush rise in my cheeks, even as he lifted our hands and pulled back, drawing me in close... And kissed me.

As soon as I realized what was going on, I pulled back, clamping my hands down over my mouth and backing right into Jon. He blocked my retreat into the other room, so I slid down until my back was pressed against his legs. Everyone else was cracking up, and Jon stepped back, holding onto the door frame for support. I fell back, finally letting my hands fall, feeling confused, embarrassed, flustered, and a number of other things.

Brendon stood, grinning widely and holding out his hand to me, which I ignored. "What... The fuck... Was that?!" I exclaimed, leaning back on my hands and glaring stonily at him. He shrugged.

"They already knew."

Spencer paused in his cracking up just long enough to manage to stutter out, "You should have- seen his face- Ryan... It was- was almost- as good as yours. He- he dropped his skittles- and was like- he went all- fuck this- and stood up, then went- f-fuck skittles, and, well..." He cracked up again, doubling over and falling into a seat. "You know the rest."

I gawked. "H-how did you guys know?"

"We were waiting," Jon spoke up, still snickering. "We figured it'd happen eventually, you know, so it was only a matter of time..."

"I... Fucking... hate you guys," I groaned, falling back onto the floor (and skittles) and covering my face with my hands. Man, I had to be blushing so much right now. I was suddenly lifted into the air, and, flustered once again, my hands scrabbled up and around the neck of none other than Brendon. I sat there in his arms for a minute, terrified, then got annoyed at his big, cocky grin. "Put. Me. Down, Brendon," I growled, and he laughed.

"Aww, Ryan, don't be like that... Come on."

"No."

"Please?"

"No."

"Even if I pout?" He knew that got me.

"No."

"Fine," he muttered, and went to set me down, then stopped. "Would you be happier with me if I took you shopping?" I paused, pondering the thought, and felt the want to go shopping slowly creep over me, becoming an almost uncontrollable urge to go shopping, get new clothes...

"Fine," I muttered, trying to keep my mood dark, but hey; Brendon was taking me shopping. I was cool with that.

---

"Oooh, Brendon, come on!" Ryan grabbed my hand and dragged me forward, bending down to examine a designer vest. (I didn't know they had designer vests, but whatever.) With a flourish and a grin, he slipped it on, modeling for me. "What do you think?"

"Hmm?" I was distracted, not by Ryan for once, but someone else, who was continuously giving us dirty looks. I gave him a grin. "It looks great, Ryan. You should totally get that." I wasn't lying, either; it did look great on him. Certain articles of clothing, I've found, just fit Ryan. I don't know how it works.

"Really?" He looked into a mirror, turning sideways and adjusting it, yanking on it a bit.

"For serious, Ryan," I said, walking forward and hugging him from behind, grabbing his hands as I did so and holding onto them. "It looks amazing." I watched in the mirror as his blush grew.

"It looks better with you on it, Bren, I'm not going to lie," he said, then laughed, pulling away and taking it off swiftly, moving instead to the shirts.

The guy gave me a very dirty glare, which was returned with as much vehemence as I could muster, then stalked out of the store.

---

"Thank you, Brendon!" If there was a way to 'squee' in real life, Ryan would have been doing it. He had this really nice, sincere smile that lit up his face, and I couldn't help but smile myself. He was just so happy, and after the Pete thing... I was more than glad for it. He threw his arms around me, still smiling that little anime-boy-worthy smile, complete with slight blush. It surprised me a little, but I smiled and hugged him back, laughing.

"It's fine, Ryan."

"Oh, yeah!" He pulled away, fishing through one of his large bags. "When I was checking out, I bought this... It was only a dollar, but I think it's cute. The owner's daughter makes them." He pulled from his bag a small bracelet, holding it up for me and smiling. It was one of those bead bracelets, black and white checkered , except for the text blocks on there. I stared at it in shock, the words seeming to scream at me.

I love you.

"Do... You like it?"

"No, Ryan, I lo-"

"Okay, really?" I turned, and there he was, the guy from the store, fuming. "There are kids here; what you're doing is disgusting," he spat out the last word. "Have some manners and at least save that shit until it's just the two of you. No one wants to see it." I know I was shocked, but one look at Ryan told me all I needed to know about how he felt. A rage grew in me as he slowly lowered his hands, still holding onto the small bracelet with both hands.

I turned to the guy, furious. "Fuck you, man, we're allowed to do whatever you want. And it's better than those guys," I said, gesturing to a young couple that were practically slobbering all over each other.

"The difference, buddy, is that they're not fags!" He seemed outraged that a homosexual would talk back to him. It only made me angrier, especially when I saw the blank look on Ryan's face, eyes widened in shock and mouth hanging open slightly.

"There's nothing wrong with us!" I argued, practically yelling. "The only person who has something wrong with them is you, you fucking homophobe!"

"Me?" The guy sneered. "I'm not the one sticking my dick in some guys ass, you freak!" Ryan's hands lowered so that he was no longer holding the bracelet with both hands, and it hung loosely from a few hooked fingers.

"It's probably better than all that stretched shit you have to deal with. Wait... That might be true if you got anything. Stop being jealous. Come on," I turned and grabbed Ryan's free hand, planning to lead him away, but he was still staring, and what the guy said next stopped me cold.

"And you." He was obviously talking to Ryan. "You're the worst. You might as well be a fucking girl, and you act like some lovesick child. You reek of gay, you fag!"

That was it. I turned, releasing Ryan's hand to throw myself at the dude, my anger almost blinding. I slammed my fist into the dude's face, and down we went, but it turned out that the guy actually knew how to fight, and this time I wasn't much of a match. After a few minutes of scrambling, I ended up on the bottom, arms covering my face and pulling my legs up in protection as Ryan dropped everything and began to scream at us to stop, begging, but the guy didn't listen until some passerby managed to pull him off.

Ryan was by my side in an instant, eyes wide with panic and worry. "Brendon, Brendon, are you okay?" he practically begged, and I rolled onto my hands and knees, actually coughing and spitting up blood. I turned to the guy, furious, and bolted to my feet, but some other people held me back as well, determined not to let us fight again.

"Brendon!" Ryan moved in front of me, and I gave him a good one-over. Hat, scarf, vest, and fingerless gloves, stylish shirt and pants, designer shoes, the whole lot. His feminine face, etched with worry. His brown eyes, widened for the same reason. But beyond the worry, far enough down that I was probably the only one who could see it right then, was this intense hurt that made me want to just kill the homophobe. "Brendon, please!" He grabbed my shoulders, his back to the guy, and looked directly into my eyes. I found myself unable to tear my gaze away, not even needing it when he moved his hands to my face, cupping it. "Brendon, please, let's just go."

I stared at him for a moment, then sighed, nodding my head and relaxing, and the guys holding onto me released me cautiously. I helped him grab his bags, and he slipped the bracelet onto my wrist with a small smile. I smiled back, despite everything, and the guy decided to do the stupidest thing imaginable.

"Yeah, you'd better run, faggots."

Ryan grabbed my hand to lead me away, and for a moment I thought he was just going to take it, but he suddenly turned, drawing back his leg, and nailing the guy in the nuts. And it wasn't a soft kick, either; it made me wince. Everyone holding the guy let go from shock, and he sank to the floor. I started to crack up, but Ryan suddenly tugged on my hand, running and not stopping until we'd reached the car, where both of us erupted into laughter.

---

I was appalled.

I was crushed, I was shocked, I was hurt, and most of all... I was depressed.

I'd tried to rape Ryan? What? Where on earth did that come from?

I sighed, stomping into the van and past a rather disinterested looking Andy, who was perched on a random stool reading a book. I was still holding the bloody tissue to my mouth, the flurry of emotions rushing through my head as I paused by the bathroom, hearing the shower. I opened the door, peeked my head in, only to have Joe tell me it was him and not Patrick, almost too calmly.

I shut the door, and only felt worse, sitting there and brooding for a minute before throwing away the tissue. I sighed, and turned to storm away, but Andy stopped me. "Pete, you honestly didn't think it was going to come back and bite you in the ass sometime?" He didn't even lift his head from the book, and I could see his eyes still sliding across the page.

"What are you talking about?" I snapped, almost too defensive.

"I'm talking..." He paused, flipping a page. "About you and Pat. And not just you two; you and Brendon, you and Ryan... And they don't even want to do anything."

"What? What're you... How did you find out?" I had been all prepared to argue, but hey; it was Andy. The fight just kind of seeped out of me. He's almost like... Our 'guru' or sorts. He just 'knows' things.

"I can tell, Pete." He lifted his eyes for a moment, focusing me with this little 'trust me' look. "When it comes to you, I can tell." And with that, he returned back to his book as if nothing were wrong. I sat there for a minute, staring at him, then held out my hands, waiting for more, but he just fixed with another brief look. That was his 'that's it' look, too. I sighed, turning and walking through the van, sliding into my bed.

"...Pete?"

"What, Pat?" I grumbled, a little bit more sharply than I meant to.

"Is... There any way I can help you right now?" I sighed, and Pat slid the curtain to my bunk, which I had closed, open a little, crouching down on the floor and kneeling in. I turned my head to stare at him, gray eyes widened in worry, brow furrowed and slightly dispositioning the ever-present hat on his head, blonde hair hanging in his eyes... Staring at his hair, I was pushed to run a hand through my own.

"I... Fucked up, Pat."

---

"Holy, shit, Brendon, what happened?'

"Pat?" Brendon looked over at him, surprised, as I skipped up, giddy and in a great mood. "We went shopping and beat up a homophobe!" I declared brightly, hanging onto Bren's arm. "And I finished him off!"

"Ry- you... Did? What?"

"Just... Long story," Bren waved him away, ignoring a very hyper and giddy me, still clinging to that arm of his, even as I leaned my head against his shoulder, wrapping both my arms around his single one. "Why're you here, Pat?"

"Oh! Pat's here to help me bring in bags. Right, Pat?" I asked, then bounced off towards the car again, dragging Pat with me this time. I loaded him up, grabbing one for myself and not feeling a drop of guilt as I ran up to Bren and jumped on his back. He kind of 'oof'ed and staggered forward, but I wrapped my arms around his shoulders, snuggling against him, total anime-style. "Don't worry, Brendon, I'll take care of you when we get inside..." I pushed my lips into a pout. "I know it has to hurt." He shook his head, heading into the bus, but I lowered my voice, growing serious. "Seriously... Thanks." I could feel and hear the different tone in my voice, and he stopped just before climbing the first step on the bus.

"No problem, Ryan. What he said was a bunch of bullshit anyway." He shrugged, heading back in, and I sombered up, resting my chin on his shoulder.

"Not all of it," I argued. "He's right; I do reek of gay."

"And that's a bad thing?"

"Maybe. Is it?"

"Do you care?"

"Should I?"

"No." He set me down, as Pat struggled up the stairs with the rest of my bags, and I bit my lip, looking up at him and feeling once more like a little kid as he did nothing but stare at me. It was almost intimidating, that stare. It was like he was picking me apart, figuring out my thoughts. I've always hated that stare; thankfully, he doesn't use it much. He sighed, leaving Pat to flump onto one of the seats with my bags, and grabbed my hand, pulling me into the next room, telling Spence and Jon to get out, we were having a 'serious talk'.

They took one look at him and agreed, walking out and sliding the door shut, and Brendon locked it behind them, turning to me. I don't know if any of you guys know this, but Brendon can be very convincing if he feels like it. If you look at him, you can just tell he's persuasive.

"Ryan." He leaned forward, grabbing my shoulders and gently yet firmly pushing me down into a couch. "Listen." He sat on his knees beside me, fixing with the most serious look he could muster. "That guy... Doesn't even deserve to live, in my opinion."

"How could you say that? That's what he thinks about us."

"No... Let me rephrase that; I don't think he deserves to... Live with any form of luxury. He should be... He should live on the fucking street, for what he said to you alone. It's different with me hating him, because I hate him because of personality and his own judgementalism, where he hates us because of our sexuality. Ryan, look at me," I'd looked down, but couldn't resist those eyes, pulling me in, making me listen.

"Brendon, I'm fine, I just... Need some time. After a while, it all builds up, you know?"

"Yeah, I do, and I'm telling you: Don't listen to anyone like that. Ever. I like you just the way you are..." I looked back up at him again, only to find him extremely close, and I felt my lips part without me even telling them to, and our lips connected. I closed my eyes, raising my hand and twining it into Brendon's hair as he pushed me gently back, so that we were laying on the mini-couch, with him pressed tightly against me, kissing me probably more passionately than he ever had. I kissed back, loosing myself in the moment, as my hands went to his shirt, untucking it. One of his own moved to my vest, struggling to unbutton it and get it off, and he finally broke away, focusing his attention on my clothing. "You wear too many damn layers, Ryan," he muttered, and I couldn't help but chuckle. I raised my hands to help him out, but jumped when someone knocked on the door. Did they always have to interrupt? Brendon raised his head, staring at the door with the look he got when he was pissed. "What?" he called out, voice tinged with annoyance.

"Uhm... Brendon?"

"Oh, shit! Pat! Sorry..."

"Fucking... People... Always interrupting us," I muttered, censoring myself as much as possible, but I could only do so much. Brendon hopped off of me, and staggered over to the door, disheveled. He opened the door, to a sheepish Pat, whose expression soon changed when he saw Brendon with his shirt halfway untucked, hair mussed, and me in a similar state and still laying on the couch.

"Uhm, am I... Interrupting something?" A smile ended up twitching on the side of his mouth, which I saw when I let my head slide off the couch so I could look at him upside down.

"Wait..." I rolled off the couch, landing on my hands and knees, never taking my eyes from him. The smile twitched again, and you could tell quite plainly he was trying to keep it from showing. Brendon stared between the two of us, starting to get where I was going. "Were you... In on it, too?"

"G...G..." His face split into a big grin, and he laughed, in his little quieter way, no where near as uproarious as our bandmates had been, but frustatingly enough as it was. He finally stopped, and managed to get out, "Guilty as charged," before looking at my glare and cracking up again.

"Uhm, well anyway," Brendon said, a forced brightness to his voice. He knew I wasn't really angry; slightly irked, yes, but not honestly mad. "What was it you wanted?"