Brendon wakes to somebody whispering his name and shaking his shoulder, softly.

He opens his eyes, and them immediately regrets regaining consciousness. Pain spreads through his body like wildfire, and he has to take a deep, calming breath to stop himself from screaming. His vision clears, after he blinks quickly against the pain, and focuses upon a face, looming above him.

It's Ryan, biting his lower lip, and looking concerned. Memories of the kisses and the blowjob wash over Brendon, and he sits up so quickly that he bangs into the other boy. He glances at the window to see the night sky, and gazes at Ryan with questioning eyes.

"It's nine," Ryan explains, softly. "Your phone is ringing, that's why I woke you."

Brendon blinks, realising that he can hear his ringtone going off, and he quickly fishes about in his jeans - that have been pulled back up, seemingly by Ryan - and answers it. "Hello?"

"Brendon, honey, where are you?" comes a worried, female voice, and Brendon winces. He'd completely forgot about his mom, and hadn't thought to let her know anything when contentedly going to sleep that morning.

"Um, I'm at Ryan's," he says, trying to sound as though everything is fine. "We're working on our music project. I forgot to ring, sorry."

"You're at Ryan's?" she repeats, sounding relieved. "You should have told me! Rodney and I have been worried --"

"Rodney hasn't been worried," Brendon cuts through her, rolling his eyes. "He's probably happy that I'm out of the house so that he can have you all to himself again. Mom, seriously, why is he even there? You know that you can do better; all you need to do is walk out of the house and you'll find a better man. I think --"

"I'm not about to discuss this over the phone with you," she sighs, tiredly, and Rodney's voice can be heard, angrily in the background. "Listen, honey, I'm going to have to go. Are you sleeping at Ryan's?"

"Am I sleeping at Ryan's?" Brendon echoes, looking over at the boy in question with a shy smile. It's a Saturday tomorrow, but he has no idea what might happen between them now; does Ryan regret what's happened? Is he going to close off again, and kick Brendon out? To his surprise, however, Ryan leans over and kisses Brendon's cheek, and then pulls back, nodding. "Yeah, I am."

Ryan beams - the first time that Brendon has ever seen him do so - and Brendon has to hang up before his mom can say goodbye, drop the phone somewhere, and lunge forward, pinning Ryan down on the bed and meeting his mouth in a clumsy, eager kiss.

Ryan laughs against it, his arms sliding comfortably around Brendon's waist, pulling their bodies even closer together. "You're staying over, then?" he asks, as Brendon rolls onto his side - wincing as he does so - curling his arm around Ryan's waist as they face each other.

"Yeah," Brendon replies, with a smile, so close to Ryan that their noses are almost brushing. Ryan grins, and tilts his head slightly so that he's kissing Brendon, again.

As his tongue presses against Brendon's, Brendon closes his eyes, and tries to work out why such a thing feels so damn amazing.

*

Lawrence sits down opposite him, looking miserable, his eyes upon anything else but Brendon. One of his cheeks hold a nasty bruise, and one of his wrists is sprained and supported by a bandage. He looks down at the drink he's ordered, and swills the straw miserably around the glass.

"Brendon," he says, in a quiet voice, and looks up at last through his dark blonde fringe. Brendon's insides tighten, nervously. He can guess what's coming, but that doesn't make it any easier. "We need to talk."

"That's what we're doing, now," Brendon laughs, helplessly. He traces shapes onto the table cloth with his finger, and looks up at his boyfriend, imploringly. "You know, I think we should go out to a really expensive restaurant tonight. I'm in the mood for some really good food. I don't mind paying, either, this time, because my mom just gave me my money for the month and you got the dinner last time, so it's my --"

"Brendon, please, can you just let me speak?" Lawrence asks, sounding a little guilty. Brendon shuts up, immediately. Usually, Lawrence is content just to let Brendon ramble until he runs out of steam, and he only usually interrupts when it's something important. "I don't know if I can do this anymore."

"Do what?" Brendon's mouth is dry, and the worry in his gut increases tenfold. "Do what, exactly?"

"Stay in this relationship," Lawrence sighs, closing his eyes and bowing his head. "It was never meant to be this serious. I was just trying to figure out who I am, and you were there and confused, too."

"I was just there?" Brendon repeats, slowly, all emotion steadily draining out of him. Lawrence meets his eye, and Brendon can see the sincerity in his expression, mixed with the sadness.

"Yeah. I just needed to work some stuff out, I never wanted - well. I never wanted a boyfriend, or anything. Now we're both getting beaten up, every day, and it's just not worth it."

"I'm not worth it?" Brendon asks, his voice much smaller than he'd intended it to be.

Lawrence bites his lip, looking like he's close to crying or something. "No. You're not."

Brendon opens his mouth to shout or cry, or even laugh, what with the erratic nature of the emotions inside him at the moment, and he just can't believe that this is --

"Good morning," comes a soft whisper, seemingly out of nowhere, and Brendon opens his eyes. He realises that he was merely dreaming a memory, and heaves a great sigh of relief. He sits up, rubbing his eyes, and glances around.

Ryan is sitting next to him on the bed, holding a bowl of cereal, and smiling warmly. He leans forward, and kisses Brendon's forehead, before pulling back and offering him the cereal. "Here you are. You're probably hungry, we didn't eat anything yesterday, did we?"

Brendon realises that it's is true, and his stomach lets out an impatient growl. He gives an embarrassed laugh and takes the cereal, with a grateful smile. As the spoon is halfway to his mouth, he realises that Ryan has just woke him up with breakfast, and it's possibly the sweetest thing anybody has ever done for him. "Thank you. You really didn't need to get me anything."

"Of course I did," Ryan dismisses, one of his hands trailing to Brendon's side, and idly tracing swirls into a one of the bruises with a finger. "How are you feeling now?"

"Uh, a little rough," Brendon shrugs, but he says it with a smile. "Physically, anyway. Otherwise, I'm really good. I mean, it's just. Well. This, you know? This is good, and it makes me, um, good. I don't know if I'm making any sense, anymore."

"You're not making much sense," Ryan admits, as Brendon finishes his cereal. "But I understand."

Brendon smiles, and a few drops of milk slip from his lips, back into the bowl. Ryan shakes his hair from his eyes, and fixes Brendon with an almost stern look. "Right. I need to know exactly what happened yesterday, and who did it."

Brendon sighs. He knew that the question was coming and, whilst he's happy that Ryan is concerned, he doesn't want the unpredictable boy to go and do anything that might get him beaten up, too. Hesitantly, he goes through the events of the morning before, hoping that it won't sound that bad out loud. It sounds worse, if anything, he realises, as he recounts it.

Ryan's face darkens a little more with each word, and Brendon begins to get anxious. He doesn't want anymore trouble. He just wants things to be peaceful, like they were once he'd gotten back to Ryan's and he'd admitted his sexuality. "...then you shoved some paper through - hey, that reminds me," Brendon says, a thought suddenly striking him, "what was that paper?"

The cheeks of the boy in front of him flame red, and he coughs, awkwardly. "It was nothing, really."

"Come on," Brendon pouts, sulkily. "You can't just not tell me. I'm all curious now."

Ryan raises his eyebrows, with a slight laugh. "I can tell that this is going to be annoying. I don't think I'm actually physically capable of refusing you anything when you look like that."

Brendon goes a little pink, and bows his head, slightly. "Don't change the subject," he teases. "I want to know what the paper was."

Ryan sighs, feigning annoyance, and rummages around in his school bag. He pulls out the piece of paper, folded into a small square, and then hands it to Brendon. As Brendon unfolds it, he's well aware of Ryan nervously watching his reaction, and his curiosity is so strong he can almost taste it.

Brendon,

I don't know why you seem to like me. I'm not worth anything, and I don't deserve anything. But I can't help it. I'm falling. Please, meet me at the school gates at the end of the day. I need to see you, alone.

Ryan x

Brendon, slowly, crumples the note in his hand. He's finding it kind of hard to breath. He knew that Ryan must feel something for him - taking him home and giving him head kind of suggested that - but to see it in writing, and to see that Ryan thinks so little of himself, well. His heart actually aches a little.

Without wasting any more time thinking about it, Brendon drops the note, slips his hands around Ryan's waist, and pulls them both back on the bed, kissing him, hungrily. Ryan makes a small sound of surprise, but kisses back, his tongue sliding smoothly between Brendon's lips.

They lie there, entwined, for almost half an hour, content with each other and the moment and the kisses. They settle into a comfortable position, with Brendon nuzzling his face into Ryan's neck, and Ryan stroking Brendon's hair tentatively.

"Mmm, you smell nice," Brendon comments. Ryan smells of showers and shampoo and fresh spring days. Ryan laughs, shaking his head.

"You're so weird."

"I know," Brendon sighs, happily. He still can't believe that he's lying here with Ryan Ross, the boy who's misunderstood and a loner and tried to actually stab him, once. He tries not to think of that, darker side of him, though, and so sits up, smiling down at Ryan.

"I want to repay you," he says, in a quiet, huskier voice. His fingers trail over the top of Ryan's jeans, tracing the fine hair above them, and Ryan swallows, hard. He looks uncertain, and Brendon bites his lip, suddenly feeling stupid. "Sorry. If you don't want me to, I don't --"

"No, I want you to," Ryan swears, sitting up, and kissing the corner of Brendon's mouth, comfortingly. "I really do. It's just. Well. I've never, uh, had anything like this before. It's just all new to me."

"You've never been in a relationship?" Brendon asks, cocking his head to one side. He'd assumed that the boy would have been - after all, he'd given Brendon a blowjob without much hesitation, at all.

Ryan shakes his head, cheeks tinged with red. "Um, no. You were kind of. Well, I've never. Um. You were my first kiss."

Brendon's eyes go wide, and his lips part in surprise. Ryan avoids his eye, looking miserably at his hands, evidently ashamed. Brendon, though, doesn't see any reason for him to be - he's shocked, yes, but it's oddly sweet that he could have been the first. He shakes his head at Ryan's glumness, and kisses him, softly.

"There's nothing wrong with that," Brendon assures Ryan, smoothing his hair behind his ear, and kissing his cheek. "I think it's nice. I've only ever kissed one person, before you."

Ryan looks very much as though he's about to ask about it, but Brendon doesn't want to think about his old life, and so he catches his mouth in another kiss, letting his hands trail down to Ryan's belt. He unbuckles it, quickly, and Ryan lifts his hips to allow Brendon to pull the jeans halfway down his legs. Brendon moves his hands to Ryan's boxers, feeling strangely nervous. He glances at Ryan's thighs, and he freezes.

"Shit," he whispers, moving his gaze to Ryan's eyes. Ryan's looks at his legs, pales, and he stumbles off the bed, pulling his jeans up as he does so. Brendon feels faintly sick as he stands, too, and watches as Ryan buckles his belt, with shaking hands. "W-what were they?"

"What do you fucking think they were?" Ryan snaps in reply, his voice trembling.

"Cuts," Brendon replies, weakly. He shakes his head, unable to comprehend it all. "You. You cut yourself? I mean, maybe you don't, I don't know. I'm not trying to judge you or anything. There's just - God, some of them looked so deep. You take care of them, don't you? Well, I guess you do because you've been really good with helping me when I'm hurt, and none of them looked infected, and - oh, God, now I get why there was blood on the knife. Shit. H-how, well. Why? You don't need to tell me anything, it's not really --"

"It's nothing to do with you," Ryan replies, quietly, but strangely dangerously. "Don't talk about it. Just. Just get out or something, because this obviously isn't going to work."

Brendon's insides twist, painfully, but then he suddenly realises what's happening. Ryan is overreacting because Brendon's touching upon something personal. He can't stand anybody knowing anything about him. If Brendon doesn't do something, quick, they'll lose this, and God, this is too amazing to lose.

"Ryan," Brendon says, in a stern voice. Ryan looks at him, seemingly furiously, and Brendon wonders if what he's about to do will make things better, or get him stabbed. "Ryan, it's going to work, okay? Everything will."

"No, it fucking won't, because --"

Before Ryan can protest anymore, Brendon moves forward and slips his arms around Ryan's back, pulling him close against him. Ryan tenses at the contact, but then relaxes, seeming to sag into Brendon, as though letting go of everything. Brendon smoothes his hand through Ryan's hair, the other hand firmly at Ryan's hip, and he plants a kiss onto Ryan's cheek.

"It's okay," he murmurs, as Ryan takes a deep, shuddery breath. "I promise."

"You don't know that," Ryan replies, in a strangely thick voice, and Brendon takes a moment to wonder if he's actually made the boy cry. "You can't know that."

"No, but I can guess," Brendon sighs, and Ryan tilts his head upwards. He looks scared and young and vulnerable, and then he's kissing Brendon with such a passion that Brendon stumbles backward onto the bed, pulling Ryan with him. "Fuck, Ryan --"

"I'm sorry," Ryan whispers, into the shell of Brendon's ear. "I'm so, so sorry. I just don't know sometimes."

Brendon smiles, reassuringly at him, beyond happy that things have calmed down again. He swirls a finger over the top of Ryan's boxers, with a light sigh. "I won't mention them, not if you don't want me to. But you have to know that you can talk to me about it, whenever you want. I want to understand."

"I will, someday," Ryan murmurs, as Brendon's fingers move slightly lower, slightly quicker. Ryan's breath hitches, and he laughs, breathily. "D-do you have anything to do today?"

"Not anything I can think of," Brendon smiles, slipping a hand into Ryan's boxers and taking delight in seeing the boy let out a small moan, his eyes narrowing slightly.

"S-spend the d-day with m-me?" Ryan asks, struggling to form a coherent sentence as Brendon begins to stroke him, and Brendon laughs, happily, kissing the groaning mouth.

"Of course," he promises, and Ryan lets out a moan that's half from gratefulness, and half from pleasure.