⚠︎︎𝚂𝙼𝚄𝚃 𝚆𝙰𝚁𝙽𝙸𝙽𝙶⚠︎︎

𝚁𝚢𝚊𝚗'𝚜 𝙿𝙾𝚅

Our bodies push together in unity, the sweat making our skin glide over each other. His hands are wrapped tightly around me, his blunt nails digging into my back, tugging me down against him. Pure ecstasy is rolling off both of us in hot waves and I watch as his face contorts with pleasure. His eyes are squeezed shut, mouth hanging open as his head falls back.

God, I can't remember the last time I saw him like this, writhing and begging beneath me. Tour is difficult in the sense that you are always on the move, always exhausted. We're lucky if we can even steal a quick handjob before a show. Even on hotel nights, a good night's sleep is more important than getting off sometimes.

His long drawn out moan pulls me from my thoughts and I focus on studying his face, savoring the way his dark eyes stare into mine. As his hips rock into mine, I let my eyes fall shut and lose myself in the feeling of this. Something I probably won't have the luxury of experiencing for at least another week.

"Fuck Ryan, I think I'm—" he breaks off with a soft gasp as I lick a hot trail up his throat, tasting the salty tang of his sweat. Yeah Brendon, I know I know, I am too. And I don't even have to voice these thoughts. He knows how close I am, he's familiar with the way my hips snap in a desperate manner.

A few more moments and we're whining into each other's mouths, begging for a release. My hips hit just the right angle and he unravels before me, his pupils dilating as I swallow his moan of, "Oh god, Ryan!"

I fuck him through his climax, trying to hold off my own for as long as I can. It's a lifetime before his own hips stop moving and his taut muscles finally relax. "I love you," Brendon whispers, his last word drawn out into a whimper as I bite down hard on his collarbone.

My eyes close and I allow a cry of ecstasy to escape my lips as I climax, finishing inside of Brendon. I feel him squirm beneath me, sigh softly as his fingers slowly card through my hair.

And then I roll off him, pull him into my arms and kiss his forehead, enjoy the way his hot breath tickles my neck.

"I love you too," I say at last, my voice breathless and somewhat raspy. He presses his face into my neck and I feel him smile against my skin.

"Prove it," he murmurs, almost too soft to catch. I pull back then, just enough so I can look at his face. His eyes are gleaming challengingly and it's almost enough to make me shiver.

"I believe I just did," I respond slowly, holding his gaze unblinkingly. One corner of his mouth quirks up and he leans close. I move in to meet him, feeling my energy slowly return to my body. But he raises a finger, blocking our lips from touching.

"Why don't you do it again?" he proposes, leaving his finger up against my chin. We're so close, that his eyes have merged into one. I part my lips, taking the tip of his finger into my mouth. It's all I can do not to grin when I see goosebumps race to cover his skin.

Apparently he takes that as his answer, because in the next few seconds he's straddling my hips and pinning my hands down to the mattress.

☀︎︎ ☾ ☀︎︎

𝙱𝚛𝚎𝚗𝚍𝚘𝚗'𝚜 𝙿𝙾𝚅

I could've sworn I closed the blinds last night. I remember pulling the string, concealing our room from the world as he pressed up against my back. And from there, it's all a blur. So it makes no sense that the sun is streaming through the dirty hotel window, shining its rays over my face. Revealing our sins to the sky.

I'm not in the mood to get up and fix it. Not yet, at least. I roll over and wrap my arms around Ryan's waist, letting out a soft groan.

My eyes snap open. Unless Ryan was transformed into a pillow overnight, he isn't here.

With an exasperated sigh, I force myself into a sitting position. If he isn't with me, I know he must be in the shower. I'm not really sure why he didn't wait for me. We always shower together when given the luxury of a hotel night.

I grab my boxers off the floor and pull them on, noticing how Ryan's clothes are gone. Well yeah, he probably put them away. He hates leaving messes.

That's when I realize I don't hear the water running.

But it's okay, I'm not too worried. There's plenty he could possibly be doing besides showering. He's probably doing his eyeliner, or calling his girlfriend.

I feel a slight twinge of jealousy at that thought, but I push it away. I knew he had a girlfriend when I got myself into this mess. There is absolutely no reason that I should envy Keltie when I know Ryan would leave her for me if he could.

Still, I can't help standing outside the bathroom door silently for a moment. Waiting to see if I can catch a piece of their conversation.

I hear nothing. There's no sound at all. No water, no talking, not even any breathing. It's as if the bathroom is empty. This is weird, even though Ryan can be quiet when he wants to.

"Ryan?" I call, leaning against the doorframe and tapping with my knuckles. When I don't get an answer the first time, my pulse quickens and I reach for the door handle. Luckily, it's unlocked.

When I push it open, I see blood.

Not just a little puddle on the sink or something, but there is literally gallons of blood all over the floor and the walls. I gasp and take a step back, the sharp intake of breath causing the metallic tang to fill my lungs.

The blood slowly leaks out of the room, spreading onto the carpet. I don't know what to do. I don't know what I can do. I don't know what the fuck is going on.

The walls are starting to close in, is the blood rising? Yeah, there's definitely more than there was before. Fuck, it's all over, it's hot and sticky and suffocating and it's dragging me under and I'm being crushed and I'm gonna die, god this can't be how I die, this wasn't supposed to happen but here I am buried under gallons and gallons of blood and I'm drowning and—

I hear a knock at my door and suddenly the hotel room is clean. My entire body is shaking and my breath is escaping in quick gasps. Though I can still smell it, there isn't blood anywhere. And the bathroom is completely empty.

Another knock, louder this time. "Come on guys, we've gotta check out soon," Spencer's voice sounds exasperated and muffled through the thick wooden door. I hear him let out another loud sigh before knocking once more.

I force myself to stand up, but my legs are shaking. Fuck, what was that? I've never seen anything like it before.

"Sorry Spence, I'll be out soon," I promise, noticing that my voice sounds strangely quiet. Shit, this isn't how today is supposed to go. I clear my throat to try again, but he must have heard me.

"Make sure you are. Pete's already complaining that we're going to be late. God, you'd think that guy is our manager or something," Spencer rants, knocking his knuckles against the door twice more to emphasize his point. I just let him talk, trying to take deep breaths. There's something so comforting about Spencer Smith. He can always calm me down, even if he doesn't realize it.

As I pull on the first shirt and pair of jeans I can find, I listen to Spencer's footsteps pacing just outside my door. I have a lot to pack up, and it's not helping that Ryan is gone. I don't know where the fuck he is, but it's really worrying me. It isn't like him to just disappear. I mean, it's Ryan Ross. You can always trust him to be lounging around on his Sidekick. He hates nearly anything that requires him to move except for sex.

Once I have all of my own stuff packed into my suitcase, I go over to the door and open it to see Spencer waiting just outside. As soon as I meet his eyes, the tight feeling in my chest loosens a little bit. "Hey," I say breathlessly, and he raises a brow.

"You good?" he asks, drawing it out slightly. I force a smile and nod quickly, deciding this thing with Ryan probably isn't a big deal. Even though Ryan Ross is very lazy, he can also be unpredictable at times. I'm sure he's off having fun before our show tonight.

"Yeah, of course man. Just waiting for Ryan to show up. God knows where he is," I respond, chuckling a little for good measure. Spencer buys it and actually grins at me.

"I told him he shouldn't be with that Keltie. He's too much of a whore for his own good. I mean, nobody can tell Ryan what to do though. He gets all bitchy, you know?" Spencer sighs, his bright smile fading into a small frown. "But I hope he knows what he's doing. If he's not careful, he could fuck up tonight's show."

I mirror his frown and shake my head quickly. Ryan would never do that. The band means everything to him. Spencer knows that. "No man, he'll be here. Just give him some time."

Spencer shrugs, pushing past me to gather Ryan's things for him. Well, someone has to do it and I'm sure as hell not going to after he just left me like that. "You'd better tell that to Pete before he goes fucking insane."

"Sure. Meet you in the lobby then," I tell him, grabbing my suitcase before heading over to the elevator.

I push any doubts I have out of my head. I have to stop worrying about him. He knows what he's doing, he's literally an adult. I'm not his parent, I'm not his boyfriend, I'm just his bandmate.

So why am I so worried?

☀︎︎ ☾ ☀︎︎

There's two hours before the show and Ryan still isn't back.

We've been hanging out in the bus, pretending not to worry about it. But we're lying to the truth. The truth is, we boarded the bus at seven this morning and it's six in the afternoon now. We're still parked just outside the hotel, waiting for Ryan to call or text or something. Anything.

Jon's smile is beginning to look more like one of those creepy Barbie dolls. Spencer is sweating more right now than he does even onstage, which is saying something. And me? God, I don't even know where to start.

Something is not right and we all know it. But no one will address it. I'm not sure why. It's not like ignoring this will make it better. It hasn't so far. We should be doing something, looking for Ryan.

"Guys," I say slowly, the first step towards figuring this out. Jon's smile immediately falters. He knows what I'm going to say.

"He'll show up," Spencer interrupts, narrowing his eyes at me. I purse my lips, not arguing. None of this makes any sense at all.

Was it something I did? Is he sick of having sex with me? Shit, he could've told me. I never meant for this to fuck up the band. That was always our deal, we could do this as long as it doesn't mess with the band. If I violated that... if I did something wrong...

I look up as Pete boards the bus loudly. He storms over to the three of us, scowling. "You said he's going to be here," Pete snarls at Spencer, raising his hands.

Spencer just glares at him and crosses his arms. "He will be. We might have to push the show back a little longer, but he's going to make it."

"Look Spence, I know you want things to turn out perfect but that's just not going to happen," Pete says matter-of-factly. "Even if he does show up, who knows what state he's going to be in? For all we know, he could be hammered. Stoned."

"We don't know that—" Spencer starts to say, but Pete cuts him off.

"That's the point. We don't know. It's not fair to make your fans come all this way for a lousy ass show." Pete sighs, pressing his fingers to his temples. I glance at Jon, who has his chin propped in his hand and his eyes closed. He clearly agrees with Pete, but doesn't want to argue with Spencer. And honestly, I feel the same way. We can't disappoint our fans. If we can wait longer and put on a fantastic show for them, that's what we're going to do.

"Fine," Spencer growls, standing up. "At least I'm not the one who has to refund all these people." With that, he sulks off towards the bunks.

Pete looks at Jon, and then at me. "I'll take care of things, alright? You guys go get some food and some rest for now. We'll find Ryan tonight and do this show tomorrow."

Obviously he's only saying this so we won't worry, which is really good of him. He's remaining really calm. Almost too calm. Almost like... he knows something.

I meet Pete's gaze and he gives me an almost challenging look. After a moment, he gets up and pats my shoulder, hard. "I'll talk to you about this later," he tells us as he goes to the door and gets off the bus.

My chest has become tight again. There's something really wrong about all of this. I glance at Jon, and he meets my gaze solemnly. "This is seriously fucked up," he mumbles under his breath before following Spencer to the bunks.

I'm left alone on the couch, wondering how this could have gone so wrong. Whatever it is, we'll figure it out. We have to.