Brendon opens his eyes, and feels happy.

It takes him a few moments to work out why, exactly, but he soon realises that Ryan's arm is around his waist, and Ryan's face is buried into his back, and Ryan is in bed with him. He smiles, and turns around, so that he's facing Ryan. The boy is fast asleep, looking perfectly at peace with the world, and if Brendon wasn't so impatient and wide awake, he'd probably leave him in his slumber.

However, Brendon is impatient and wide awake and so he says, in a loud voice, "Hi!"

Ryan lets out a groan of protest, and buries his face into the pillow, grip tightening around Brendon's body. Brendon rolls his eyes. He's not used to people who can't wake up easily in the morning; it's such an alien concept to him. He sits up, stretches, and then glances at Ryan again.

"Morning!" he half-shouts, and then feels triumphant as Ryan lifts his head, blinking blearily. Brendon ducks down and presses an eager kiss upon Ryan's lips, causing Ryan to let out a surprised, groggy sound. Brendon pulls back. "How are you feeling?"

"Mmm, good," Ryan smiles, and then slowly sits up, stretching. "Really good, in fact."

Brendon notices that Ryan's hair is all tousled and lovely, and that he's looking all vulnerable and pretty, and he knows he can't be blamed for what happens next. He kisses Ryan, tenderly, and lets out a contended sigh. Ryan's arms slip around his bare waist, and the next thing they know, they're lying back down and kissing passionately, the atmosphere of the room getting more tense, strangely.

"God, Brendon," Ryan murmurs, as the kiss breaks for a moment to allow them both to breath. "I never, ever thought I'd. Well. I never thought I'd feel this way for anybody, so fast."

"Me neither," Brendon smiles, feeling unbelievably happy at the sentiment. "You're amazing, you know that?"

"Oh, shush," Ryan laughs, and pulls him back down against him, again, aiming for his mouth but ending up kissing his nose instead. He laughs, again, and meets his mouth this time. "Brendon?" he whispers, as Brendon takes to kissing his neck, instead. "I know that this is a bit soon, but. Um. I think that I --"

His confession is, much to Brendon's annoyance, interrupted by a heavy knocking on the door. He rolls his eyes, presses a quick kiss to Ryan's lips, murmurs, "One second", and then clambers off the bed. He quickly ties his dressing gown around him, and cautiously unlocks the door, expecting Jon or Spencer or some other random party goer who's just woken up.

What he doesn't expect to see, however, is his mom and Rodney.

"Um. Mom! W-what are you --?"

"Get out here right now, Brendon Boyd Urie," Mrs. Urie hisses, her voice shaking with anger. She grabs his arm and pulls him out of the room - which gives her a clear view of what's inside. She lets go of him, her eyes going wide, and her blue eyes flick from her son, to the obviously naked Ryan, and back to Brendon again.

She opens her mouth, and then closes it, looking beyond stunned. Rodney however, goes a strange red colour, looking between the boys with an almost comical speed. "Were you just in bed with another guy?"

Brendon tenses, feeling suddenly as though there's a large, blinding spotlight upon him. He'd been more worried about his parents coming home in the middle of the house probably being trashed, but now? That doesn't even matter. If he says yes, his mom might freak out. But if he says no, Ryan might freak out, and he'd lose everything.

He swallows, hard, and looks his mom straight in the eye.

"Yeah, I was," he admits, quietly. "Ryan and I are going out."

"You're going out," she repeats, hollowly. Brendon glances, nervously, behind him, to see that Ryan has jumped out of bed and pulled his jeans on, and is staring at him with wide, surprised eyes, and the tiniest of supportive smiles. That smile, suddenly, makes him able to stand any rejection he may be about to receive.

"What the hell?" Rodney asks, looking disgusted. "Your mom and I go out for a weekend and we come back to this? The house is completely ruined, and you're being a fucking fag in bed, and --"

"Shut the hell up," Brendon interrupts, sharply. He doesn't want to hear this, not from a man who he hates, so much. Not when Ryan is in the room behind him, and every insult is going to hurt him, just as much. "Who do you think you are to come into my house and call me that?"

"You need to learn some respect, boy," Rodney growls, taking a step closer, his hand going to his belt. Brendon takes a quick step back, wondering what the hell he's going to do if his mom let's this happen. He's never been beaten before; his dad never believed in hitting kids, and his mom never had the heart to. But Rodney is fucking huge, and Brendon knows he'd have no chance in fighting him off.

However, before he can even consider doing anything to defend himself, Ryan appears out of nowhere by his side, and steps in front of him. He's still topless, but in his jeans, and Brendon wonders what the hell he's doing. "Get away from him," Ryan says to Rodney, in his lowest, silkiest voice - which Brendon also knows to be his most dangerous.

"Ryan," Brendon begs, putting a hand on the boy's shoulder. "Don't. I can look after --"

"Get away from him," Ryan repeats, completely ignoring Brendon, instead glaring up at Rodney. Rodney is looking startled at the opposition, and Mrs. Urie is looking terrified, gaze flicking between the three of them helpless. "I don't care who the fuck you are, but you're not touching him."

"Oh, and you think you can stop me, kid?" Rodney laughs, sliding his belt from his belt hoops and straightening the leather between both his hands. "Your pansy arms probably couldn't hurt a child."

"Wait, wait, can you both please just --"

"Stay out of this," Ryan says to Brendon, sparing him a quick glance, before turning back to Rodney. "You don't have a fucking clue. I know exactly the sort of person you are. You'll come in, and take over. You'll take advantage of Brendon's mom being lonely, and you'll slowly push Brendon away, probably by force, until he doesn't even know which way to turn in his own fucking house. I think you should just get out now, before you're in too deep and you mess everything up."

Rodney glares at him, fiercely, and then raises the belt high above his head. Brendon's heart just about stops, and before he knows what he's doing, he pushes Ryan out of the way, hard, causing the boy to fall to his knees. The belt lashes down and catches Brendon, sharply, on the cheek, drawing blood. He lets out a cry and stumbles backwards, fingers flying to the wound to stem the blood.

"That is enough!" Mrs. Urie screams, looking and sounding close to tears. She turns to Rodney, looking furious. "You and I need to have a talk, right now. Brendon, take your - your friend, and get out of the house for an hour. Don't think you're not in trouble."

Brendon hastens to obey, eager to get out of the house before he gets hurt further, or before Ryan pulls out a knife and tries to murder Rodney. He rushes back into his room and pulls his clothes on, whilst his mother and Rodney got into her room. Ryan gets up, slowly, from the floor, and pulls his t-shirt on, with shaking hands.

In a matter of minutes, they're outside again. As they'd passed through the house, Brendon had noted that everybody had left, but God, he'd never seen such a mess. There was vomit and weed and beer everywhere, and he wasn't exactly surprised that his mom and Rodney had been pissed off. If only they hadn't come back a day early...

"I'll kill him," Ryan says, breaking Brendon from his thoughts as they make their way slowly down the street. Brendon comes to a halt, a fear tightening a cold hand around his insides, and shakes his head. "He can't fucking get away with that."

"What, this?" Brendon asks, gesturing to the cut on his face. He dabs at it with his sleeve, and shrugs. "It's nothing. Really. It's just --"

"You have to get him out of your mom's life," Ryan protests, biting his lip, and looking upset. "You just have to. I know exactly the sort of person he is. If he'll beat you up for defending yourself, and he calls you a fag, just think what he'll do if you ever get into a serious argument."

"My mom wouldn't let him hurt me," Brendon argues, but he doesn't say it with much certainty.

"Oh, yeah, because she did a fucking great job with defending you there," Ryan sneers, rolling his eyes. "Listen, you don't have a choice. You have to get him out. He'll ruin both of your lives."

"Don't start on my mom, okay?" Brendon asks, annoyed. "This isn't her fault. Anyway, I can't get him out if she doesn't want him out, it's not that easy."

"I don't care how difficult it is, you just have to," Ryan says, stopping and grabbing onto Brendon's forearm, looking intently into his eyes. "Listen to me. I know just what it's like to live in a house like that, and I can't let you go through that."

"But I won't be able to --"

"So, what, you're going to fucking give up?"

"I don't have a choice," Brendon says, helplessly, hating the look of disgust on his boyfriend's face. "If I knew how I could get my mom to hate him, I would. But I'll be fine, I promise. If you're strong enough to cope --"

"Strong enough to cope?" Ryan laughs, bitterly, almost manically, and there's a strange, unhinged look about him now. "Fuck you. What do you know about it? It's nothing to cope with. You just have to fucking survive."

"Then I'll survive!" Brendon shouts, just about at the end of his tether. "I'm going to be in so much trouble when I get home, my mom knows I'm gay and probably hates me for it, my cheek is fucking killing me, and I just can't deal with you having one of your tantrums right now, okay?"

He falls silent, chest heaving, but he immediately regrets what he's said. Ryan stares at him, lips slightly parted, before he purses them, and stumbles backwards, putting space between them. "Right. Right, I see how it is."

"No, wait, Ryan, I didn't --"

"Don't say you didn't mean it," Ryan mutters, looking hurt and angry and disappointed and upset all at once. "You just said it. You can't take it back."

"Ryan, please --" He attempts to grab Ryan's arm, but Ryan shoves him away, hard. Brendon stops, breathing heavily, and he bites his lower lip. He feels like he's going to cry, because everything is going fucking wrong, and he can never keep his mouth shut. "Ryan," he tries again, in a choked voice, and takes a tentative step forward, "Ryan, I --"

Ryan shakes his head, stuffs his hands into his pockets, turns on his heel, and walks away without another word. Brendon half-thinks he hears a strangled sob from the retreating figure, but the boy never looks back.

If he did, he would have found Brendon staring after him, heart just about breaking.

*

Brendon lays curled up on his bed, after a day of cleaning and shouting and lamenting how he just can't keep his mouth shut and let things be okay.

He's cried himself out now, and he shudders every now and again from the aftermath, his cheeks stained and red and puffy. His mom hasn't mentioned his sexuality, but she did enough yelling about the party to make up for it. Rodney's still with her, but he hasn't said a word to Brendon since the belt incident, for which Brendon is glad. He'd end up punching him, if he did.

As he rolls onto his back, wondering what Ryan's doing now, and if he's even thinking of him, there's a tentative knock on his door. He sits up, and in a fairly hoarse voice, calls, "Come in!".

To his surprise, Spencer enters, looking a little hung-over, but more concerned than anything else. He shuts the door behind him, and pads over, tentatively perching next to Brendon on the bed. He gazes at the cut on his cheek for a moment, and then shakes his head. "I'm so sorry. Jon and I left at about ten, but if I'd known they'd be back I would've cleaned up or --"

Brendon sighs. He'd rang up Spencer the moment Ryan had left him, and he felt quite ashamed by how much he'd sobbed down the speaker. Spencer had been sympathetic and caring, and Brendon bore neither him or Jon any ill will. "It's not your faults. It's not anybody's fault, but mine. It was just bad luck that they decided to come home early."

"Yeah, but your cheek is --"

"It's nothing," Brendon murmurs, and takes a deep, shuddery breath. "To be honest, I'm more bothered about - about --"

"Ryan," Spencer finishes for him, and before Brendon knows it, he's crying again. Spencer quickly puts his arms around his friend, and pulls him close, into a tight, reassuring hug. "Don't cry. It's not worth it. Things will be fine."

"They won't," Brendon moans, voice thick with tears. "They really won't. I think he hates me now, and I don't see how I could ever get him to listen to me apologising. I don't even deserve to be listened to. He gave up his fucking virginity for my birthday and then defended me, and I just insulted everything about him and belittled his problems. It's no wonder he left. I deserve to fucking die."

"Don't say that," Spencer says, sharply. "Don't ever say that. I told you that getting involved with Ryan would just get you hurt. Yeah, I didn't think it would be emotionally, but you're still in pain. I think it's better this way."

"I won't be able to move on," Brendon sighs, quietly, pulling back from Spencer and rubbing his eyes. "I won't be able to forget everything we had and just ignore him at school. I like him too much. Fuck, you know what? I think I - I think I might actually --"

"Don't say it," Spencer warns, but Brendon finishes, "-- love him."

"You love him?" Spencer asks, sounding serious, and quite concerned.

Brendon has to stop for a moment, to really think about it. But then, he knows that he doesn't have to think about it, because fuck. He does. He is. He really does.

"Yeah," Brendon says, slowly. "I-I do."

Spencer stares at him, and then slowly shakes his head. "Fuck. Well. You had better get him back then."

Brendon looks at him, shocked, and then nods, swallowing hard. "Yeah. I do. I will. I need to."

More than anything else in the world, he adds, silently. Because, God, he loves him.