I Have Been Right All Along

(Ryan’s POV)
ONE WEEK LATER

Another late night staying up with Brendon, making sure he doesn’t drown in his own puke or pass out and hit his head on the corner of a table or whatever happens to be lying around the bus. Tonight, though, Pete’s decided to stay on our bus with me because he hasn’t been able to sleep for a few nights and thought I need some sober company to stay up late with.

“Brendon, lay off the alcohol,” I say, shaking my head disapprovingly at Brendon as he stumbles over to the fridge, reaching directly for some liquor. Apparently liquor is his drink of choice this week.

The light from the fridge floods the dim front lounge, he looks back at me, sliding the liquor out of the fridge anyway, quickly shutting the fridge, darkening the room, lit only with the light from the TV playing Peter Pan.

His dark figure moves across the room to stand in front of me as he unscrews the lid to the bottle. Pete quickly turns his attention away from the movie to focus on Brendon. He gets up and quickly takes the bottle out of Brendon’s hands with ease.

“Do we need to put a damn lock on the fridge to keep you out of there? Aren’t you done with this for tonight?” Pete says loudly, anger slowly rising.

“Fuck you, Pete,” Brendon slurs, staring at the wall behind me.

His eyes look tired and he isn’t the hyper-active Brendon we all know; something is wrong, but I know I can’t ask him about it because he won’t tell me. I’ve tried and failed.

“Brendon, you can’t keep doing this every night,” I say calmly, looking up at him from my spot on the couch.

The TV flickers blue light across the room for a moment before turning everything green. Brendon looks down at me, only moving his eyes to do so.

“I’ll do what I want,” he slurs quietly, turning around.

I give up arguing with him. He can do whatever he wants, who am I to stop him?

“Yeah but this has to stop,” Pete says from the fridge, replacing the bottle back into its place. Brendon stumbles over to the table, sliding into the booth and crossing his arms on the table, staring straight at me.

“You’ve had too much tonight,” Pete finishes, standing in front of me, blocking my view of Brendon. I turn to the TV, watching the bright colors move across the screen, lighting up the room various colors.

“Just leave me alone,” Brendon mumbles.

“I’m not going to leave you alone until you get your act together. This is really hurting you and this could hurt your career. A few drinks is fine, but this…this is not okay,” Pete says, his voice rising.

“Pete, keep it down, Jon and Spence are asleep,” I say, keeping my eyes to the brightly colored Disney movie.

Pete walks back over to the couch, returning to his seat. I glance back over at Brendon, lit a bright orange, his head is resting on his crossed arms as it sits at the table. He takes in a few deep breaths before raising his head, immediately resting it in his hands.

“You should talk to him, he probably doesn’t want to hear what I have to say,” Pete says to me quietly.

Without a word, I get up and go over to Brendon, nudging his arm, causing him to look up at me. I motion for him to follow me as I walk to the back lounge. He slowly follows me, struggling to keep his balance.

I turn on the low lights as Brendon walks in the room. He flops down on the couch and I shut the door. The room is still quite dark, lit only with the golden hue of the low lights, making the room feel more like a bar than a bus lounge.

I take a seat next to him as he pretends to act alright by smiling at me, hoping I will change my mind about talking to him.

“Why are you doing this?” I ask, looking him in his eyes. His smile fades, but he keeps his gaze on me.

“Doing what?”

“Listen to yourself. You’re drunk. You’ve been drunk every night and day for the past two weeks. Why?” I ask sternly, but keeping my voice calm.

“I have my reasons.”

“Reasons being?”

He just looks at me, the dim light casting down on his face making him look even more tired; the smile returns to his face in the form of a mischievous smirk.

“Brendon, I can’t help you if you don’t talk about it.”

“It’s Sara,” he replies, keeping eye contact with me. His eyes look darker than usual; maybe it’s just the lighting in here.

“What about her?” I ask, leaning my elbow on the back of the couch and resting my head on my hand.

“Well I told her I like her but I didn’t want to date. Then she told me she likes me,” he laughs, shaking his head.

I narrow my eyes, confused as to what the problem is.

“And that prompted you to drink like crazy?”

He shakes his head before continuing.

“No, I told her why I didn’t want to date is because I want to be independent before committing.”

He stops to rub his face and let out a frustrate groan. Oh, how I love drunken honesty.

“She told me that being in a relationship and being independent go together. She said relationships can’t last unless both can people can be independent and feel independent. Now I’m more confused than ever and I can’t date her.”

“Why can’t you?”

“Because of her and Josh,” he says, his voice rising slightly.

“They’re not dating,” I’m quick to respond. Sara made a point of it the other day when Hayley and I were hanging out with her.

“Yeah but he likes her and I’m pretty sure she doesn’t like me anymore,” he slurs, a laugh escaping from behind his sideways smile.

“Why not?

“Because I keep doing this shit,” his voice raises again as he throws his hands into the air.

“Then why are you doing it?” I ask, my head still resting on my hand.

“So I can get all of this independent shit out of the way and commit.”

“Brendon,” I sigh, rubbing my eyes with my free hand. “That doesn’t make any sense at all.”

“I makes sense to me!” he yells. I put a finger to my lips, shushing him.

“If I do all this drinking, and whatever else girlfriends hate their boyfriends doing, all at once and get it out of the way, I won’t want to do it so badly when I’m dating her … if I ever date her.”

“I’ll talk to her.”

“Do not,” he says clearly, quickly sobering up for a moment. His eyes widen and he practically jumps out of his seat.

“Why not?”

“I just don’t want you to talk to her. If she wants to talk to me, she’ll come to me.”

I laugh, “Maybe you should go up to her and talk to her.”

“That’ll make me look desperate.”

I sigh and roll my eyes. I leave the room, leaving behind the dim light and Brendon. If he doesn’t want me to help him, fine; at least now I know what his problem is.

A few days later, I decide to go talk to Sara for Brendon. He’s still sticking to his theory about doing everything he wants to do all at once, then it’ll be out of the way and he’ll be ready to commit to a girl quicker. I think that theory is shit. Drinking a ton now will not get it out of his system. It will just make him an alcoholic. Almost all of the liquor is gone from the fridge in our bus and Fall Out Boy’s bus. I don’t know how he got to their liquor, but he did, and it’s gone.

I figure Sara is hanging out in Paramore’s dressing room so I head over there after I get done with playing Panic’s show. As Fall Out Boy plays, I leave Brendon passed out in our dressing room with Jon and head to Paramore’s to find Sara.

Paramore’s dressing room is next door. I knock a couple of times on the door and wait. Hayley opens the door after a few seconds, a small smile on her face as she greets me.

“Hey, can I talk to Sara?” I ask, trying to look over her shoulder, but she keeps the door closed in on her body.

Hayley opens the door a little wider, revealing Sara and Josh cuddling on the couch. I blink a few times, feeling my stomach drop slightly. This kind of puts a damper on my plan, but I go for it anyway. It couldn’t hurt to try, could it?

Hayley steps out of the way and yells to Sara.

“Ross wants to talk to you, Sara.”

Sara looks over at me, as well as Josh, and I give a small wave and smile. She smiles back and gets up off the couch and out of the grasp of Josh’s arms. Stretching, she walks over to me and stands at the door.

“Can I talk to you somewhere private?” I ask, scratching my head, feeling a little awkward.

Normally I wouldn’t care if other people heard what I have to say, but it’s clear Josh is interested in Sara and I don’t want to cause any sort of drama; at least not while I’m around. Plus, this is Brendon’s business and I’m sure he’d appreciate it if I talked to her in private about it, if he even appreciates this at all.

“Yeah,” she says, stepping out of the room.

“We should go to that little taco place across the street,” she says, looking at me, her eyes lighting up.

I smile and nod, “Sure, if you want.”

“I do want. I’ve been lusting after that place all day,” she says, leading the way to the door. I keep up with her by taking long strides. She’s walking pretty quickly for someone so short, though she’s only about seven inches shorter than me.

“What did you want to talk to me about?” she asks a few minutes later as we cross the empty street to the taco place.

I laugh, following her to the door of Tacos From The Border; I laugh, of course, at the name of the restaurant. Sara looks back at me as she holds the door open for me, smiling with her eyebrows knitted together, causing her forehead to wrinkle.

“What are you laughing at?”

I stop just a few feet from the door and point at point at the restaurant.

“The name of this place,” I smile widely, my cheeks making my eyes narrow.

She laughs along with me as we go into the place. We each order several different tacos, willing to try some new things … spicy things.

I put off talking to her about Brendon until we’re both almost done with our tacos, instead leaving us to talk about anything but Brendon.

The lighting inside Tacos From The Border is fluorescent; the worst lighting ever. It casts a harsh light on Sara’s petite, smiling face and her normally blue-green eyes look just plain green in this place.

The amount of life in this girl is amazing. She always seems so happy and excited for life. Also, I’ve never seen her mad, even during the most frustrating situations. For example, last week during one of our rest stops on the way to the next venue, the buses left without her and me. She just laughed about the whole thing the whole hour we waited for the buses to come back for us. I, however, didn’t find it very amusing.

“Ryan,” she says, snapping her fingers in my face, taking me out of my thoughts. I blink a few times and smile, feeling embarrassed because I was staring at her while my mind wandered.

“You’re back, hello,” she greets happily.

“Sorry,” I mumble, looking down at my half-eaten burrito. I pick at the lettuce sticking out of it for a few seconds before looking back up to her as she begins talking.

“What was it you wanted to talk to me about?” she asks, her gaze flicking down to my fingers in my food. I quickly grab a napkin and wipe off the lettuce sticking to my fingers before answering.

“Oh, I wanted to talk to you about Brendon,” I ask. Her smile falters just slightly as she waits for me to continue.

“I’m kind of worried about him --“

“Yeah, what’s up with the sudden alcohol infatuation,” she says, shaking her head.

“Funny thing about that, actually,” I say, my voice lowering to a serious tone. Her smile fades and her eyes glaze over with concern as her head tilts slightly to the right.

“I talked to him the other night and I asked him why he was drinking so much and he told me it was because of you,” I pause as her eyes widen.

“What?” she asks, sounding genuinely surprised.

“He said something about you both liking each other, but his need to feel independent is what is keeping him from furthering things,” I reply. She nods, waiting for me to continue.

“He’s being really stupid, but he thinks that drinking a lot all at once will make his need for independence disappear quickly.”

This causes Sara to laugh. She covers her mouth as it echoes throughout the mostly empty restaurant.

“No,” she laughs, leaning forward on the table towards me, her eyes wide; I nod, laughing myself.

“He said that. And he doesn’t want to go back on what he said to you about not wanting to commit because he still wants to be independent even though you said being in a relationship and feeling independent should coexist. He wants to date you, but he just doesn’t want to go back on what he said and admit he was wrong.”

“He’s fucking stupid,” she leans back into her seat and looks to her left, shaking her head.

“I know,” I say, reaching for my Cherry Coke. I slide it towards me and take a long sip.

She turns her gaze back to me, “He really said that?”

I nod, swallowing the drink. I can feel the cold liquid as it progresses down my throat to my stomach.

“He knows you’re right … about dating and being independent at the same time, he just … he just doesn’t want to do the wrong thing. I know he really likes you and he’s really just trying to get past this whole independence thing so he can be with you.”

“Oh God,” she says quietly, rubbing her forehead. She drops her hand to the table, leaving her bangs elegantly disheveled.

Sighing, she continues, “I like him too, but as each day goes by, I’m not sure I want to be with someone who is constantly drunk and constantly high.”

I wet my lips and am quick to respond, “Well maybe you could talk to him, maybe change his mind?”

“I don’t know,” she says doubtfully.

“Look, he didn’t ask me to talk to you. Actually, he specifically asked me not to talk to you.”

“Oh you sneaky snake!” she says, reaching across that table to bat at my hands that are resting on the table, grasping around the bottom of my glass of Cherry Coke.

“I just think that if you talk to him, he might change his mind and lay off the alcohol and weed. He needs to hear it from you.”

“Hear what from me?”

I stare at her, biting the inside of my cheeks. I’m not sure what he needs to hear from her.

“Hear that he’s being stupid and that he’s just pushing me away by being an idiot?”

Still, I stare at her and continue biting the inside of my cheeks.

“I don’t know, Ryan,” she pauses, staring intently at something behind me, of which I do not know.

“I’m not sure if it’s in my best interest to try to pursue him. I think he needs to figure it out himself.”

“He has figured it out, but he needs to hear you tell him to stop. He won’t stop unless you say something about it.”

“I just don’t think that I want to put myself into that sort of situation. He should be old enough to know what he wants and what’s more important in life; alcohol or finding the right person for himself to spend the rest of his life with. If he wants to be with me bad enough, he’ll figure it out and change his ways and until then, I’m just going to move on. It’s obvious that a relationship between him and I can’t be sustained. He’s drunk every day. He’s high every day. Who’s to say that it will stop for sure? I can’t deal with that.”

I don’t answer; I just carry on with chewing the inside of my cheeks.

“Until then, it’s a no go.”

“He’s not going to stop unless something bad happens to him or you talk to him. He’s thinks you and Josh might get together and that’s a valid reason to him for him to continue doing what he’s doing.”

“That is ridiculous. I don’t even know if I’m into Josh.”

“You two seemed cozy earlier,” I smile, wiggling my eyebrows. She groans, but smiles, as she looks away from me.

“I’ll talk to Brendon, then.”

I smile victoriously, but Sara’s smile fades. I can tell she’s a little uncomfortable about the whole thing.

“I just hate that he’s like this because of me. I, in no way, meant for him to do all this shit by what I had said to him.”

“It’s not your fault. Brendon’s brain just works differently than everyone else’s. He has a weird way of dealing with things.”

“Irrational way of dealing with things,” she adds.

“That too.”

She sighs and looks up at me.

“I’ll talk to him in a few days. I need some time to think about what to say,” she says quietly.

My lips stretch outwards for a toothless smile. I have no time to reply because my cell phone rings loudly from my pants pocket. It’s Zack, Panic’s security guard and our good friend.

“Hello?” I ask into the phone.

“Ryan, you need to get back here from wherever you are,” he demands.

“I’m just across the street with Sara at the taco place.”

“That’s great, just get back here. I need you to gather Brendon’s things from the dressing room. He’s passed out still and I’ve got to get him on the bus in a few minutes.”

“Why can’t Spence or Jon get his things?”

“They’re already on the bus asleep.”

“Okay, well I’ll be there in a few minutes, then,” I say, glancing up apologetically at Sara, but she’s busy texting on her cell phone.

“After you get his things, you should probably get to sleep as soon as possible. There’s meet and greet tomorrow right after we get to the venue and you need to be ready for it.”

“Meet and greet. Okay.”

“I’ll see you tomorrow,” he says, hanging up before I get the chance to respond.

I pocket my phone and look back up to Sara.

“We’ve got to go in a minute. Zack wants me to get Brendon’s things because he’s still passed out in the dressing room.”

She looks up at me and frowns.

“Okay,” she says, putting her phone in her pocket and standing up.

I follow her lead and gather up our trash and drop it in the trashcan on the way out. The door dings as we exit and the warm breeze from outside hits us in waves. I don’t know what state we’re in, but it feels pretty damn nice outside.

“Thanks for agreeing to talk to Brendon,” I say, shoving my hands in my pockets as we walk. I look down, watching the ground pass under my feet.

“It’s no problem. If it’s the only way for him to stop, then I’m more than happy to help him.”

“Plus you like him,” I smile and look to her to see her reaction. A light pink passes across her cheeks and she turns away, trying to hide it.

“Maybe I do.”

“I think it’s worth it, I really do. Brendon’s a great person and he means well. You would be good for him, I think.”

She smiles at me as we approach the venue’s back entrance, where I need to part ways with Sara. She rushes in for a hug and I hug her back. I feel her breath hitch and her grip tighten as the door behind me opens and closes.

I release from the hug and turn around to see Zack carrying Brendon back to the bus. Looking back at Sara, I notice a pained expression in her eyes as her eyes gray over, dulling the bright blue-green hue.

“I really need to talk to him,” she says, shaking her head as she turns back to me. I put my hands back in my pockets and look back at her.

“Well, goodnight, Ryan,” she says, faking a smile as she begins to walk away.

“Goodnight,” I say, turning around and heading into the venue to collect Brendon’s things.