Nowhere Man

Brendon likes Ryan's apartment. At first, he really didn't because he felt so out of place. Now, he feels as though he lives there.

He practically has for the last two weeks. Since the first time they had sex, their nights have been filled with each other and nothing else. Brendon's not going to lie; Ryan knows what he's doing, and he's not going to argue against that. Not like he would if he could.

The thing about Ryan is that he's precise: perfectly timed thrusts, well thought out angles. He wants to get it perfect every time. He doesn't leave any room for mistakes. Brendon is different during sex; he's more passionate than anything. He throws himself wholly into it without any regards. Sometimes it's too much, but sometimes it's not. It's a chance he has to be willing to take. That's just another thing that makes them so different.

Either way, he really hasn't slept in his own bed in a long time, which he kind of likes. He likes the excitement of being in Ryan's bed and in Ryan's shower and eating Ryan's food. He loves no longer being alone. He really does.

One thing Brendon doesn't get is why Ryan's roommate, Spencer, is nowhere to be seen. Brendon's been over at Ryan's house basically everyday this week, and he still hasn't caught a glimpse of the-dude-who-he's-getting-fucked-by's best friend.

"Hey, like, does Spencer sleep all the time or is he just never here?" Brendon questions, walking his fingers over Ryan's chest.

"He's always somewhere, these days. He seems to be here when you're not. I think he's gotten himself a boyfriend. I'm not really sure, though," Ryan answers.

Brendon nods knowingly and curls back up at Ryan's side.

* * * *

"Yo, B, that you?" Jon asks as he comes through the door later that night.

Brendon throws his keys on the counter, and replies, "Yeppers, the one and only."

"God, I haven't seen you in ages. How've you been?" Jon questions, patting the spot on the couch next to him.

Brendon looks at him suspiciously, yet sits down anyway. "Who are you and what have you done with Jon?" he says. Jon usually doesn't meddle in his business or anything like that. Jon's a very laid back guy: the perfect personality for the photographer he is. He doesn't poke and prod into Brendon's life ever, so it's weird that he's doing it now.

"Pft, like I'm not allowed to care about my best friend's well being. You better be getting laid, since you almost never sleep in your bed anymore," Jon cocks his eyebrow almost knowingly, and Brendon wonders how it's so obvious.

"Shut the fuck up. I hate you," Brendon mutters.

"So I take that as a yes?"

"Yes it's a yes, asshole. How about you? Have any sexy men around while I've been gone?" Brendon asks.

Jon smirks. "As a matter of fact, yes."

"Really? That's great, Jon," Brendon smiles.

Jon nods, smiling slightly to himself. "It is. But how's your dude? He's good in bed, right? You never settle for anything less."

"Duh," is all Brendon mumbles.

* * * *

Brendon tries to sleep that night. Really, he does. He closes his eyes and tries to shut his mind off in an attempt to drift off.

It's not working, but he denies that it's his fault. It's Ryan's for keeping him away from his own apartment for so long and Ryan's for making him curl up into his side every chance he gets and Ryan's for filling his head with thoughts of his face.

After tossing and turning and attempting to get comfortable in any position possible, he finally realizes that he's not getting any sleep tonight.

He debates for several minutes about texting Ryan. He really wants to, but it's like three in the morning and he doesn't want to wake him up. He takes a deep breath and eventually does it, typing away on his Sidekick and simply stating 'I can't sleep'. If Ryan doesn't text back, he'll be fine with it (he knows he's lying to himself).

His phone vibrates about a minute later, and he can't help but think that was really quick.

From: Ryan<33 (M)
At 3:28am
Me neither. Want me to come over?

He quickly texts back, 'You remember where it is?' He wants to make sure, because Ryan's only been there once, and that was their first night together.

From: Ryan<33 (M)
At 3:31am
Be there in ten.

Brendon realizes that Ryan didn't answer his question, but takes that as a yes. He sits on the couch and taps the screen of his phone and absently smashes the buttons while he waits.

Exactly ten minutes later, a light knock comes to the door. Brendon immediately jumps up to answer it and is met with a disheveled Ryan in the doorway. He smiles slightly and says, "Hey."

Brendon steps aside to let Ryan in and replies, "Hi."

Ryan steps inside and lets Brendon lock the door behind him, scratching at his arm. "So, um. Is everything okay?" he asks.

"Yeah, I'm fine, I guess. Just can't sleep, like I said," Brendon answers. He likes seeing that Ryan is concerned for him. It makes him feel happy.

"What's on your mind?" Ryan asks, sounding very much like a concerned boyfriend (Brendon is nothing short of thrilled).

"Nothing. I was just. Missing you, I guess," Brendon mumbles, blushing slightly.

Ryan is quiet for a few long moments, then puts his hand to cradle Brendon's cheek, tilting his face up and kissing him softly.

Brendon wraps his arms around Ryan's neck. Ryan's never kissed him like this. In fact, they never really kissed much at all unless they were having sex. This is just a kiss; a meaningful one, their lips moving together slowly in a dancing rhythm.

That night the fell asleep with their arms around each other and their clothes on their backs.

* * * *

Sitting at his desk, Brendon sharpens pencils. He hopes to God he gets offered a job. He hates doing fucking nothing all day. It's annoying as fuck and completely pointless. At least they'll be doing some actual work soon. He, Bill, and Patrick are going to be observed by Vicky to see if they can handle the job.

He watches as the door opens and William appears, head down and hair covering his face. He looks pretty tired as he collapses into his chair behind the desk next to Brendon's.

"Hey, Bill, you okay?" Brendon questions. He was always closer to Bill than he was to Patrick, and he can just sort of feel that something's not right.

Bill turns in his chair to face him, his hair in front of his exhausted eyes. "Yeah. Fine," he states curtly.

This isn't like him. William Beckett is usually nothing short of sunshine, always smiling or complaining loudly about something. "What happened?" Brendon presses.

"Travis," is all Will answers.

Travis is William's "boyfriend" even though they're "not technically together" as Bill continually tells him. Kind of like him and Ryan. "Did he, like, break up with you?" Brendon asks.

William laughs bitterly. "Yeah, not when there's nothing to break up. But, no. That's not it," he replies.

"Then what'd he do?" Brendon urges.

"He hit me."

Brendon blinks, his breath suddenly feeling short. The blood rushes to his forehead as he stammers, "Wha- Where?"

William lifts up the curtain that his hair creates and reveals a large purple ring around his left eye.

Slapping his hand over his mouth, Brendon whispers, "Oh my God". The bruise is awful, really: a foreign purple and green splotch painted on creamy white skin. He feels an ache. William had always complained about Travis, but he'd never thought... "Is this the-"

Bill lets his hair fall back into place. "First time? Yeah. Sort of. I mean; it's never been like this."

"You need to call the police," Brendon tells him.

"Nah. It's fine. I mean, he was drunk. I made him do it, you know? I always piss him off," William shrugs.

"No, Bill, listen to yourself. We studied this shit in school. You know better than to think that way."

"It's worse than it looks," William mumbles, looking down at his desk and shifting some papers around.

Brendon doesn't know what else to say, so he simply goes back to his work, trying not to think about unstable relationships.

* * * *

Ryan can tell Brendon's distracted by the way his eyes keep wandering. As they go into Ryan's room and they rid themselves of their shirts, Brendon looks almost dead behind the eyes, as if he's not into it at all.

"Hey, Bren, you okay?" Ryan asks, stepping closer to him, but not making physical contact.

"Yeah. I'm fine," Brendon lies, not meeting his eyes.

"Come on, usually by now you've ripped my pants off. What's gotten into you?" Ryan questions.

Brendon finds it ironic that he was in Ryan's position just this morning. "Just work stuff. Nothing. I'm fine, I promise," Brendon answers.

Ryan knows Brendon's work, obviously, and he knows his coworkers (he knows Bill from when they were caught trying to have sex on his desk after Ryan's most recent session). He also knows that Brendon does nothing more than organize Vicky's schedule and do paper work. Cocking an eyebrow, he states, "I don't believe you."

Sighing, Brendon curses himself. He should have just said that he saw a dead cat on the way over and he probably would have believed him. Ryan's supposed to be the unstable one, not him. "Well, the guy I work with, Bill? His sort-of-boyfriend gave him a huge black eye last night," he admits.

"What do you mean by 'sort-of'?" Ryan replies wearily.

Brendon swallows and spits out all of the things he remembers Bill telling him about Travis. "I mean they're exactly like us. Met like six months ago, or something. Travis is really unstable and shit. Drinks a lot. They aren't technically official, but act like it, sort of. They mostly just fuck."

"So, what you're trying to say is," Ryan begins, his tone anything but light, "That you think they're us. You think, that because I'm unstable like he is, I'll try to pull that shit on you like he did to Bill."

Brendon shakes his head. "No, Ryan, that's not what-"

"Then what did you mean, Brendon? Because that's certainly what it sounded like to me." Ryan locks his jaw, and Brendon wants to cry.

"I'm just... I just don't know, okay! I'm still trying to figure you out. I barely know you, really, yet I trust you with everything I have every single day. I need you to promise me that the second you want out, you'll just go. I don't want you to be in something you don't believe in," Brendon explains, tears threatening to spill over.

"Stop, B, just. Come here," Ryan coaxes softly, opening his arms slightly.

Brendon closes his eyes and complies, stepping into Ryan's embrace. He can feel his heart thumping against his bare chest, and he sighs, wrapping his arms around Ryan's waist.

"It's fine, we're fine. We're not like that, right?" Ryan verifies.

Brendon nods silently against the other man's shoulder. He really doesn't know what he was worrying about in the first place.

* * * *

Brendon's seen a lot of things in his life. He's seen people getting mugged and clips on the news of people dying and babies getting blown up and all of that shit. He's also seen a lot of awesome things, too, like actually graduating from high school and not getting disowned by his family for being gay.

But now, he swears he hasn't seen anything before fucking Ryan. Honestly. When Ryan grabbed his hips and whispered lowly in his ear, "It's your turn to do all of the work", he couldn't see anything past the stars in his eyes. He hadn't gotten to top once since they'd started their "fling" (as William continually refers to it), and he was ready to.

Seriously, being on top of Ryan is possibly the most amazing feeling ever. Not just because Ryan looks beautiful, glistening, and everything he ever dreamed of, but because he's falling apart in front of his eyes. He's coming undone under him in so many ways, gasping and making marks on Brendon's shoulder blades with his fingernails from holding onto him like he never wants to let go. He's known Ryan for almost a month now, and he's never seen him more vulnerable. He knows that Ryan is completely offering himself and all of his emotions, and his eyes are begging him to take him just as he is. He's relinquishing all control that he had previously held in their relationship and just giving it to him.

His lips skimming Ryan's collarbone softly, Brendon continues moving his hips in a rhythm that he can feel pulsing through his veins and dripping out of ever pore he has. His breath is nothing but an erratic flurry of need, and as he presses his lips against Ryan's, his chest becomes tight with a feeling that he can't particularly place. He's putting everything he has into this because Ryan deserves it. Ryan's giving him every piece of himself, even as broken as he is. Brendon promises in his heart to never hurt him.

Brendon separates their lips and looks at Ryan, who's making these little whining noises and looks like he could be ready to pass out at any second. His pupils are shot, his lips are bruised, and his hair is sticking to his forehead in a way that drives Brendon crazy but would normally be gross.

Ryan swallows noticeably he reaches up to ghost his long fingers over the left side of Brendon's neck and rest them there lightly, feeling his racing pulse beneath the tips. He doesn't break the eye contact, which is unusual for him. He keeps Brendon's wide gaze and thinks of nothing but Brendon. He's everywhere as Ryan lets his eyes slip shut for a moment, and, on impulse, reaches his free hand to rest over Brendon's fist, which is keeping his body above Ryan's along with his forearms braced on the mattress. He manages to uncurls Brendon's fingers and laces their fingers together tightly into a ball.

Suddenly, they're both coming and are lost in a sea of euphoria and blinding light for a few moments. Brendon, still stunned, wordlessly pulls out and lies next to Ryan, who's staring at the ceiling. Their labored breaths fill the air, yet it still feels like silence.

Brendon knows better than to think that this was just another fuck. It wasn't. In a sick, twisted way, it was Ryan's version of opening up to him. It was a side that he's previously never showed, and he took it as a good sign. Maybe they're getting somewhere. Brendon scoots over to Ryan and gingerly rests his cheek on Ryan's dampened chest.

As he closes his eyes, he tries to pretend he doesn't feel Ryan's arm curl around the curve of his hips.