Blue and Red

Brendon enters, battered and bruised, stumbling into Ryan's waiting arms. His mouth is a hard line and his eyes are dull and his hair is a mess, but Ryan pulls him closer, closes the door and sets him down on the couch. Ryan goes to stand up, but Brendon's right hand is grappling at his t-shirt, clinging to the material involuntarily. Brendon isn't even aware as he glares as the floor.

Ryan gently pries the fingers away and pauses in front of Brendon, leaning forward to inspect him closely. His face just looks blue and red. All of him just looks blue and red. He is blue and red.

“You can't keep doing this,” Ryan says, putting the pot on to boil. He disappears into the bathroom for a few moments, emerging later with a first aid box. He's never had one of these before.

Brendon grunts in response, leaning back gingerly into the couch, watching Ryan come toward him warily.

Ryan tuts. “Look at you.”

Brendon almost smiles, before rolling his eyes.

“Maybe you should go wash it all off in the bathroom,” Ryan suggests.

Frowning, Brendon runs his finger over his bottom lip, smearing the blood on his skin. “Hurts,” he sighs.

“Yeah. Yeah, I know.” Ryan pushes Brendon's hair out of his face as much as he can. “You've got bruises on bruises.”

“On bruises,” Brendon adds.

“Must hurt like a bitch.”

“It's okay,” Brendon assures quickly, batting Ryan's hand away. “You know, I can take care of myself, Ry.”

Ryan shakes his head gently. “One day, you're going to end up dead.”

“If I was gonna die, I would have already.”

“Don't pull that shit with me.” Ryan stands up again and flicks his head in the direction of the bathroom. “Go on. Clean yourself up.”

Obediently, Brendon goes to the bathroom and begins to wash off all the fights. Ryan watches from the doorway as bruised and bloody Brendon just turns into bruised and tired. As the last drops of red disappear from the sink, Brendon goes to yawn and cringes.

“Band-aids,” Ryan says with a smirk, and Brendon gives him a look of sarcastic glee.

Ryan cleans Brendon's wounds with antiseptic, covers them with the promised band-aids and bandages, then ruffles his dirty hair and sends him to bed.

Ryan makes a coffee for himself, then goes to bed half an hour later.

*

The next day, Ryan wakes up early to find Brendon already in the kitchen, waiting for his toast to pop.

“You're not going out today,” Ryan says. Then he adds, “Please.”

Brendon opens his mouth to argue, but he notices Ryan's face looks like it's about to contort into something horrific and instead nods.

They eat breakfast and watch infomercials, before Ryan digs through their movie collection and announces a movie marathon.

Halfway through Alice in Wonderland, (they ran out of manly movies a couple of hours in), there is thumping on the front door. Reluctantly, Ryan goes to answer it, leaving Brendon leaning forward curiously.

As he turns the handle, the door is suddenly pushed wide open and a tall man strides in, barely glancing at Ryan as he does.

“Gabe,” Brendon greets, climbing hurriedly to his feet.

Gabe grabs Brendon's arm and pushes up his sleeves, his eyes brushing over the younger man's body. “Ouch.”

“Yes,” Ryan agrees, quickly stepping into Gabe's vision with a hesitant smile. “I thought I'd better keep him in today.”

Gabe grins at him – one that is surprisingly hearty for the situation – and goes to tweak Brendon's nose, who grins like a child.

“You'll get over it, eh?” he says to Brendon. “You always get over this shit.”

Brendon throws a smug look at Ryan. “See?”

“Anyway,” Gabe goes on. “I was just checkin' in, wanted to make sure he was alright.” He eyes Brendon nervously. “You are alright, yeah?”

“Yeah.”

Gabe returns to grinning and makes for the door, but Ryan steps in front of him.

“Can I talk to you for a sec?” Ryan leans over and adds, “Be back soon, Bren.”

The pair steps into the hallway and Ryan closes the door gently, then turns to Gabe with a stern look on his face. “I thought you said this wouldn't happen. Not again.”

“Shit happens.”

“To him?” Ryan's brow furrows in anger. “He's not cut out for this, Gabe. This shit is messing him up. How the fuck can you stand messing up that?”

“Look,” Gabe says, his tone delicately polite. “I get that you and Brendon have weird shit going on” – Ryan snorts – “but this is just how things go. Just be glad he's alive. We look out for each other as best we can, but we can't control everything. Brendon's not a kid, I'm not gonna treat him like one.”

“I want him out of all this,” Ryan sighs.

“You know it's not as easy as that. He has more than just you, Ryan.”

Ryan scowls bitterly, turning on Gabe and entering the apartment once again. He glances back over his shoulder and adds, “Thanks for checking up. You can go now.”

Gabe rolls his eyes and laughs. “Hey, someone's gotta tell you what you don't wanna hear. Sorry it had to be me. Make sure he's good, I expect to see him again soon.”

Ryan slams the door. Brendon glances up at the noise.

“Is everything okay?” Brendon asks, hesitantly. “Don't be mad at Gabe. It's not his fault.”

“I know, Bren.” Ryan sits down beside him again, watching him as he smiles. Alice is at the mad tea party. The areas around both of Brendon's eyes are dark, dark blue. Ryan raises a hand and goes to gently stroke his cheek, but Brendon flinches.

“Hurts,” he says, apologetically. “Sorry, Ry.”

“It's not your fault.”

Brendon lowers his eyes. “Yeah, it is.”

“Shut up, Bren.”

Brendon just shrugs and wraps his arms around Ryan's waist, pulling him close.

“Do you actually like this?” Ryan asks suddenly. “I mean, the whole lifestyle thing. And this --” He gestures at the bruises and covered cuts.

“It gave me a family,” Brendon answers, quietly. “I love Gabe and Pete and Jon and --”

“What about me?”

“I love you too,” he says, hurriedly. “Of course.”

Ryan frowns. “How does someone like you get involved in a world of violence?”

“What do you mean, 'like me'?” Brendon counters, before giving up and sighing. “I don't know. It just happens.” He pauses, staring at the television blankly, before adding, “I kind of don't want to do it anymore.”

Ryan bites at his lip. “Really?”

“Yeah... But that doesn't matter. I'm just sick of coming home like this,” Brendon says. “I hate the way you look at me when I do.”

“What?”

“You always look like you're gonna throw up or something. It's kinda gross, Ry, you might wanna quit that. I'm always scared you're just gonna puke all over me or something, and that's really the last thing I need --”

“I get it.”

Brendon's lips spread into a lopsided grin. “Alright, sorry.”

“What if we left?” Ryan's eyebrows rise hopefully. “And went somewhere they'd never find us? Just you and me.”

“You and me?” Brendon repeats.

“Yeah!” Ryan's mind is whirring with thought now, the idea exciting him. “I could keep you safe, Bren. You know I would, yeah?”

Brendon nods slowly. “Yeah. Yeah, I know you would. But” – his face falls slightly – “is it even possible?”

“We'll make it possible!” Ryan is on his feet now, pacing in front of the couch, obscuring Brendon's view of Alice. He looks at Brendon, and his eyes are alight.

“Okay.” The word is quiet, but Brendon says it again, louder this time. Suddenly, he is on his feet as well, and Ryan grabs his hands and spins him in a circle before heading for their bedroom.

“Okay!” Ryan yells back, as Brendon follows him in.

Ryan is pulling open drawers and already judging what they'll need and what they won't. For a second, Brendon's grin falters.

“This isn't possible.”

Ryan turns and shakes his head. He steps forward and places his hand over Brendon's mouth before he can speak again. “Shh, Bren. Don't. Not now.” He removes his hand again and resumes his searching. Brendon pulls a suitcase out from under the bed, and a camping bag out of the wardrobe. He places them both on the bed.

“It won't be enough.”

“Seriously, Bren. Shut up.” Ryan grins at him, and Brendon is coaxed into grinning as well.

They spend the night packing – carefully folding clothes to ensure they can fit the maximum amount in. Brendon starts flinging shirts at Ryan halfway through, diving behind the bed before popping up again smirking.

Later, Brendon is grabbing the bandannas at the bottom of his drawer out of habit. As he goes to shove them on the top of his clothes, Ryan's hand closes around his wrist, causing him to glance up in surprise.

“We're leaving that behind,” Ryan says. “Right?”

Brendon's mouth falls open and he nods slowly. “Sorry,” he mumbles. He pulls the red and blue bandannas from the pile and throws them back over his shoulder carelessly, and they fall like ominous confetti. He grins at Ryan.

At one am they're all packed, and Ryan looks sadly around his apartment.

“We might be in for a few rough months,” he says to Brendon. “But I'll take care of you, okay?”

Brendon nods and picks up the camping bag. “Do you know where we're going?”

Ryan shrugs as he pulls along his belongings to the front door. “Does it matter?” He opens the front door and motions for Brendon to follow him.

Once they're in the car, Ryan pauses with his hands on the wheel.

“Are you sure you want this, Brendon?” he asks, his voice almost blending into the silence. He turns, trying not to frown. “Do you think you can leave?”

Brendon's expression is a lot softer than Ryan expects – a lot softer than it has been for a long time. His lips are quirked in a smile as he shrugs. Ryan's brow furrows in confusion.

“I'll miss them,” Brendon says, simply. “But I'd miss you more.”

Ryan tries not to blush as the car roars into life and takes them far away.