Lights

“Anyone want some more sandwiches?” Ryan said, hopefully, as he sat down with Brendon during his break. “Sorry for lack of variety, but they're the cheapest thing there that we can eat.”

“I could definitely go for some sandwiches,” Brendon said. “Let me at 'em.”

They ate in silence for a few minutes as Brendon watched Ryan, as if something from his mannerisms would show why he seemed to be a loner for no apparent reason. When the careful bites Ryan took of his sandwich didn't reveal any answers, Brendon decided he might just need to be outright about it.

“Hey, Ryan,” he started, slowly.

Ryan glanced up, his eyebrows raised as he waited for Brendon's question.

“I was talking to Spencer earlier.”

“Oh, really? Spencer's pretty awesome, did you like him?”

“Yeah, I did,” Brendon said. “But when we were talking, it kind of came off like you didn't really talk to anyone else here except for him.”

Ryan shrugged. “So, what of it?”

“Well, why don't you? There's lots of people that work here.”

“Yeah, but sometimes you just... don't talk to people.”

“Do you actually talk to anyone besides Spencer? And I mean – ever?”

“I talk to you,” Ryan pointed out, taking a moody bite of his sandwich as he started to glower in response to the questions.

“You met me two days ago.”

“And?”

“Don't you think that maybe you should... go out a little more?”

Ryan merely looked at him blankly and blinked a few times. “I go out enough. I work here all day, then I have some time at home. And look, now I have you to talk to at home. I don't really need much more than that, Bren. My life is fine.”

“But, don't you want to have more fun?”

“I have fun.”

“Doing what exactly?” Brendon snorted. “Playing Solitaire? Watching The Simpsons?”

“I thought you liked watching The Simpsons.”

“I do, that isn't the point. Don't you want to go to a party, or go eat out --”

Ryan pointed at his sandwich as he glared at Brendon.

“-- Or go see a movie or something?”

“People's lives don't need to be exciting every second of every day.”

“But you're an awesome guy, Ryan, I don't understand why you don't talk to anyone. Do you have a girlfriend?”

“What kind of a stupid question is that?” Ryan snorted, almost choking on his sandwich.

“Have you ever?”

“Yes,” Ryan snapped. “I have, in fact.”

“And when was the last time you did?”

Ryan's eyes narrowed in a death glare. “Why is that any of your business, anyway? I don't think I invited you to go asking questions about my whole life, especially since you won't answer any of my questions.”

“It was back in high school, wasn't it?”

“So what if it was?”

Brendon let out a groan and collapsed so that his head thudded against the table. Ryan didn't respond, but instead continued glaring at the back of Brendon's head regardless of the fact that he wasn't aware. It made him feel better.

Brendon tilted his head to the side so that his mouth wasn't against the table top. “So, you just have almost no life?”

“I'm fine with having no life, Brendon. This kind of thing suits me. Past girlfriends were annoying anyway, I don't really need another one. And I'm definitely not gonna base my amount of life on whether I have one or not.”

“High school girlfriends are annoying, that's practically in their job description. They're full of drama and lies and crying and mascara and all that stuff. Now you're twenty two, and things have grown up a lot since then. You can't just abandon having a life because you feel like it.”

“And why exactly can't I?” Ryan snapped. “There's nothing saying I can't.”

“It's too empty,” Brendon sighed. “You're a perfectly decent guy. If you can't have a life, what hope is there for the rest of us?”

“You seem to have had quite a life. Such an exciting one that you won't even tell me about any of it. What's so interesting that you can't tell anyone?”

“That would ruin the idea of me not telling it. Besides, we're not talking about me, Ryan.” Brendon pulled himself back up and rubbed his neck with a scowl. “We're talking about you. So please, seriously, just hear me out here.”

“That I suddenly have to go and get a life?”

“Not suddenly,” Brendon defended. “Just... look. How about you, me, and Spencer go out tonight. We'll go get drinks. It'll be fun. We'll enjoy ourselves loads, and you'll see how nice having a life really is. Maybe you can see what you've been missing out on.”

“Which is nothing. I don't need to go out to see that.”

“Ryan.”

“God, fine then. I don't know why I'm listening to you anyway though. You're just some odd hobo, essentially.” Ryan sniffed and turned away.

“You're listening to me because you know I'm right.”

*

“Aren't you gonna do that weird frog-hawk thing with your hair?” Brendon asked from the couch, where he was wearing some more of Ryan's clothes, purely because Ryan had insisted on making him wear something that wasn't ripped in places like Brendon's own original clothes were.

“Faux-hawk,” Ryan corrected. “And I don't do that every day.”

“It did look pretty cool though,” Brendon admitted. “I mean, I know I said I didn't know what it was and all, but I totally meant that in a good way, not a bad way. Your hair is kind of limp without it, it's weird. But maybe that's just me.”

“Your hair's limp,” Ryan said.

“I didn't style mine yesterday, mine is traditionally limp, so that's okay.”

“Gel is a privilege, not a necessity. So I have to use it in careful doses. With you around, I need to use it even less.”

Brendon held up his hands in defeat. “Fine, fine, do what you will. Limp hair it is, we'll be twins this time around. In fact, maybe we'll be triplets. Way to blend in, Ryan.”

“I'm perfectly okay with blending in, thank you very much.”

“That's not the go-getter attitude I was looking for,” Brendon sighed, shaking his head in a disappointed fashion. “I don't think you're quite getting this.”

“Shush you, before I kick you out.”

Brendon smiled and motioned that he was zipping his lips shut.

“Now... do you reckon we should leave?”

Brendon nodded decisively. “If we're gonna walk, especially. Spencer will meet us there.” He leaned forward, inspecting Ryan carefully. “You're not worried about this, are you?”

“Why in hell would I be 'worried' about this?”

“I dunno, you just look a little jittery to me,” Brendon responded, blinking. “But maybe I'm just being a little too perceptive this evening, I didn't realise you wanted to go hiding obvious nervousness.” He grinned smugly and climbed to his feet, skipping over to the front door.

“I'm not hiding obvious things, I'm just not worried about this,” Ryan snapped. “Also, you look like a fairy, I don't know if I can be associated with you.”

Brendon rolled his eyes. “Fine, I won't skip. I didn't really need to anyway. Now, just calm down, because I'm sure you'll enjoy yourself tonight.”

Ryan rolled his eyes and opened the door, pushing Brendon out of it by the small of his back. He ensured the door was locked three times as Brendon watched him with a growing frown on his face, then finally started down the stairs.

“Things would be a lot easier if you took the elevator,” Brendon said, quietly.

“I don't make things easy.”

“No, you really don't.”

Ryan attempted to walk extremely slowly when they got out into the crisp night air, but Brendon insisted on linking arms with him and pulling him along at a much quicker pace. A few stars were out, but most of the sky was dark blue and black with barely a pinprick of light. There was a glow around it as a result of all the illumination from the surrounding sky-scrapers that were blaring with lights, reminiscent of the restaurant Ryan worked in.

“Spencer gave me very specific directions to this place,” Brendon said, with his trademark smirk pulling his gaunt face into a haunting smile. “So there's no getting away. And I also don't need to rely on you for directions. I'm extremely glad you befriended this Spencer person rather than someone else.”

“I think I'm going to have to give Spencer an extremely stern talking to at work tomorrow,” Ryan mumbled as he scowled down at the pavement. He was stumbling along whenever Brendon decided he was going too slow and yanked him forward. “He's also going to have to pay for my new arm – you're going to pull it out of its socket!”

Brendon hurriedly patted Ryan's arm in what was supposed to be a sympathetic gesture. “Come on Ryan, we both know it's fine. Now, hurry the hell up already!”

“I am!”

“You are not!”

Brendon's pace quickened suddenly, and the yanking grew even more frequent.

“Bren!”

“We're almost there,” he said.

Ryan groaned. “That's a reason to go slower, not faster.”

“Oh please, you know you're enjoying this.”

“Enjoying this? This is absolute hell!”

“Don't be so dramatic.”

Brendon suddenly turned with a shriek of delight as he realised they were finally there. They were standing outside of a building that was pumping with music. He glanced at Ryan, who was leaning away from the building reproachfully.

“Come on, Ryan, don't look so frightened.”

Ryan didn't reply, but instead followed Brendon inside the building.

Within the walls, the thumping music was even louder, and it beat against Ryan's ear drums without even a shred of remorse. Brendon's eyes lit up with excitement as he saw the hundreds of bodies swelling and rippling with the music. His hand found Ryan's wrist and he pulled him through the throngs of people toward the bar.

Once there, they saw Spencer perched on one of the stools, a bottle of beer in front of him.

“What is this, some crazy bar?” Ryan said, his voice growing louder as he realised the music was too loud for him to be heard.

“Pretty much!” Brendon shouted back with such enthusiasm that Ryan took a frightened step away from him.

Brendon ran over to Spencer with a giant grin on his face. “Spencer!”

“Brendon!” Spencer answered, sounding equally as joyous. “Hey, Ryan!”

Ryan just raised a hand and waved hesitantly, not quite feeling up to yelling.

Spencer grabbed his bottle of beer and tilted his head back, chugging a good few mouthfuls before wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. “My shout,” he said, motioning to the bar with his head. “What do you guys want?”

“Same as you,” Brendon replied, sitting himself down on the stool beside Spencer's. He looked at Ryan with an encouraging smile, and patted the stool next to his.

Ryan sat down without a word, watching the pair of them curiously, and tried to avoid looking over at the writhing masses enjoying the music.

“Ryan!” Spencer said. “What do you want?”

“Um – just water,” Ryan said quickly, shrugging his bony shoulders.

“You're kidding me, right? You can get water at home for free!”

Brendon grinned. “Come on, Ryan. Liven things up a little.”

Ryan rolled his eyes and sighed. “How about a coke?”

“Still no alcohol,” Brendon commented, disapprovingly.

“I don't drink,” Ryan said. “Sorry.”

Brendon let out a dramatic sigh and his shoulders slumped forward. “Fi-ine. Get the man his coke, Spence!”

Spencer saluted obediently and turned to the bar. A few moments later, he slid each of their drinks along the bar's surface with a grin.

“One beer, one coke. Hey, how old are you again, Ryan?”

“Older than Mr. Barely Legal, here,” Ryan replied, poking Brendon in the ribs smugly and making him jump.

“Hey, I'm taking advantage of my new-found ability to drink without getting done for it,” Brendon said. “There is absolutely nothing wrong with that.”

“Just like there's nothing wrong with choosing to not drink,” Ryan responded with an air of authority. “Now, put that in your twenty one year old pipe and smoke it.”

Brendon's brow creased in confusion, and his lips twisted up. “What is that? Some old-time-y saying?”

“That's exactly what it is, kid.” Ryan showed all his teeth in a wolf-like grin that stated he had won this one. Brendon glowered bitterly and folded his arms across his chest, grabbing the bottle of beer and taking a large gulp.

“Don't try and prove your maturity by drinking beer in your moment of need,” Ryan laughed.

“Shut up,” Brendon snapped. “Well, you have no life!”

“We talked about that the whole way here, I think we can pick a new subject now.”

Spencer stared at the pair of them, quite confused. “And you say you guys only met two days ago? You're already abusing each other, like brothers or something.”

“He” – Ryan jabbed a finger into Brendon's shoulder – “says mean stuff a lot. I can't be blamed for that.”

“Also known as 'he started it'?” Grinning, Spencer shrugged off the two glares he was now receiving and bent over his drink as he tried not to laugh.

“I knew this was a bad idea,” Ryan grumbled. “Didn't I tell you it was a bad idea?”

“It was a fantastic idea,” Brendon replied, matter-of-factly. “You just ruined it with your grouching. Drink your coke, maybe you get more lively on a sugar high.”

Ryan stared at him blankly.

“You're right, that isn't likely,” Brendon sighed. “I've seen you drinking hot chocolate after all.”

*

“I want to dance!” Brendon whined, stamping his feet on the ground like a child. “Look at everyone else, having lots and lots and lots of fun! And we're sitting back here! Looking boring and stupid, totally not moving, and it is completely uncool.”

Ryan tilted his head at the rambling of his new-found friend curiously. Brendon had downed quite a few bottles of beer since they had arrived, and it was all on Spencer. Now, the younger boy was smiling so wide that it made Ryan wonder just how wide you could smile.

Brendon had stood up a long time ago, abandoning his bar stool in favour of darting between Ryan and Spencer enthusiastically, with the energy of a puppy. He was bouncing and cheery, with the ever-present bottle in his hand.

This was a drunk person, but not the kind of drunk Ryan was familiar with. Despite the fact that there was no anger present on Brendon's face – despite the fact his nose wasn't wrinkled and his mouth wasn't misshapen in a bellow of rage – it still made Ryan smile nervously. As if this was some sort of pre-drunk façade, and the temper was yet to come. Just a happy Brendon prelude.

Spencer was quite similar. He had just grown louder and louder, though he didn't necessarily talk as much as Brendon. When he knocked over his beer, he had rescued it clumsily with a shout of, “Hey!” like it was some sort of amazing accomplishment. Then Brendon had yelled, “Hey!” as well, and Spencer had grinned and tossed his arms in the air like he was in a parade.

“Guys!” Brendon complained again.

“Fine, fine!” Spencer interrupted, shaking his head and almost spilling the beer in his hand. “I'll give, I'll dance!”

“Yay!” Brendon poked his tongue out in Ryan's direction. “At least someone will dance.”

Ryan poked his tongue out back at him. “Have fun.”

Brendon's face fell. “No, no, that's not what I meant! You have to come too! Come on, Ry!” He grabbed Ryan's wrist and tried to pull him up. Ryan held fast, his eyes widening as he realised he was about to be yanked out of his seat.

“You lied,” Brendon said through gritted teeth. “You said you weren't a muscle man.”

“I'm not, you're just incredibly weak,” Ryan said with a smirk.

Brendon's mouth dropped open in an offended fashion, and he stuck his nose up in the air. “Fine then, me and Spence don't need you anyway!”

Ryan grinned. “Yep. I win.”

“Why doesn't reverse psycho-ma-cology work on you?” Brendon frowned. “Spence, I think Ryan is a cyborg. From outer space.”

“Sounds likely,” Spencer agreed, standing back to inspect Ryan suspiciously. “He's got that cyborg look.”

“He does.” Brendon nodded. “See, Ryan? We know your secret. Now, dance or we'll tell everyone here than you're going to invade earth!”

Ryan couldn't quite understand quite how Brendon came up with this logic, but perhaps that was regular when your brain was too mixed up from alcohol.

“Please, Ryan? I'll beg!”

“Really?” Ryan arched an eyebrow. “I'd like to see that.”

Brendon and Spencer exchanged glances, before Brendon shrugged and suddenly dropped to his knees. He waved his arms in the air before grabbing onto the bottoms of Ryan's jeans. “Please, Ryan, please! Come dance with us! We're grovelling!”

“Get off my pants, Brendon!”

“You asked for it,” Brendon said, nonchalantly, as he attempted to get to his feet. He toppled to the ground again, and looked extremely confused as to why he wasn't standing up.

Ryan reluctantly stood up and offered Brendon a hand, who took it cheerfully and almost pulled Ryan to the ground as he sprang up.

“Shit!” Ryan shouted, doubling over, and trying to straighten up as if nothing had happened.

“Thanks!” Brendon said, brushing the dirt from his knees. “Now, come on!”

Brendon grabbed both Ryan's wrist and Spencer's sleeve and dragged them towards the crowd. The music seemed to swell within the mass of bodies, almost becoming a physical entity, slithering throughout each of the dancers and infecting them. Ryan could feel sweat on his arms and someone else's hair sticking to his neck.

The lights were flashing and people were coming in and out of Ryan's sight. He felt disoriented, like it was a mess of every result alcohol could have. Blaring voices and cheering along with promiscuous hip swings and fingers running up bodies. Eyes closed without a care. Somewhere, he may have even heard a shout as a fight erupted out of nowhere. Somewhere, something was going wrong, but for now, Brendon was grinning with all his teeth and pulling Ryan around in lazy circles.

“Dance!” Brendon shouted, his voice lost to the music, so Ryan could only see his lips form the word. It seemed like slow-motion. Like something was off – the voices didn't match. A bad TV commercial.

“I can't!” Ryan couldn't help but shout his reply as his eyebrows scrunched up in worry. He couldn't dance, he couldn't do this. He was so careful, and he cared so much. There was so much lack of caring around him that it just made it worse. Like any ounce of caring left in the room had glued itself to his skin and wasn't letting go. He was freezing up, his legs were locked, his fingers were wound around each other tightly.

“It's not hard.” Brendon tilted his head and looked confused at the sudden expression taking over Ryan's face. “Hands!” Brendon threw his hands into the air and tried to spin around, but his legs fell out from under him. He tumbled into Ryan, who caught him against his chest and almost crashed into the people dancing beside him.

“How is this living?” Ryan asked in Brendon's ear – an opportunity to talk a little quieter.

“This is how you meet people!”

Ryan couldn't quite grasp this concept either. “What are you talking about? I feel stupid!”

“Just don't!” Brendon grabbed one of Ryan's wrists and pushed it into the air, but it just fell uselessly back at Ryan's side.

Brendon didn't seem to notice, but instead had turned to Spencer, who was a little more keen on the dancing aspect of things. He was screaming along to the song that Ryan had never even heard in his life, and was completely out of tune. Ryan wondered if he even knew the song at all.

With a sigh, Ryan turned from the pair of them in search of the bar again, but after only a few steps he was forced to a halt. A girl seemed to have appeared out of nowhere, but unlike the rest of them, her eyes were focused on him. They frightened him a little. The were rimmed with eye-liner, which had smudged slightly onto her cheek. Her eyelashes were long, and her blue eyes looked slightly blank, like while she was looking at him, she may as well have been looking anywhere.

He smiled nervously as she placed her hands on his shoulders without even a questioning glance. Her hips were by his hips, and her elbows were bent as she drew even closer.

Ryan just stood still, growing more uncomfortable by the second. He racked his brain for some sort of solution to this problem – something he could say that would make her fingers slide away from the fabric of his shirt.

Her fingertips found their way to his neck and she seemed to be trying to pull him down toward her – or herself up toward him, he wasn't quite sure.

His hands were in the air, but in a way that signalled he was trying very purposefully to not touch her.

A few moments later, his awkward composure seemed to have taken the right effect. She arched her thin eyebrows in surprise, then suddenly her eyes narrowed.

“What the hell is wrong with you?” her lips mimed.

Ryan tried to smile and form an answer, but nothing came out. He just mouthed things uselessly, hoping it looked like something genuine. The girl glared at him and flicked her hair over his shoulder before disappearing between the few people next to him with a roll of her eyes.

“Good God,” Ryan said quietly to himself, before turning again to go back in search of Brendon and Spencer. He decided he certainly didn't feel like being here any longer.

“Bren?” he shouted over the crowd, pushing himself up onto his tip-toes in search of them, but even with his tall stature he couldn't pick them out. Groaning, he started elbowing past a few people until he finally saw what looked like the back of Brendon's head.

“Bren!” he sighed, thankfully, and leaned forward to grab his shoulder and pull him back.

As he did so, Brendon's hand was forced from Spencer's chin, which his fingers had been wrapped around only moments ago. Spencer was looking at Brendon with a confused, drunken stare, as if he wasn't sure what had just happened.

Brendon turned to Ryan with his eyebrows high up his forehead, questioning. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, not even seeming to care what it looked like.

“What – what was that?”

Brendon blinked, then shrugged.

“Can we go?” Ryan asked.

“What?”

Ryan groaned and grabbed the fabric of Brendon's t-shirt and pulled him close so he could hiss in his ear, “Let's go, eh?”

“Do we have to? I was having fun!”

“I'm not having fun,” Ryan snapped. Then he added, “Please, Bren.”

Brendon slowly nodded, then looked at Spencer and waved at him to follow them. Brendon started wading back through the crowd toward the bar.

Once they were outside again, Ryan gasped in the dark night air with relief and leaned against the wall, trying to steady himself. He hadn't realised his head was so full until now – until all the pressure began to melt away. It had been so cramped, absolutely everything he despised all packed into one room. So many people, so much alcohol, so much music, and enough confusion to satisfy the masses.

“You 'right, Ry?” Brendon asked, peering into Ryan's face with his eyes narrowed.

“I'm fine,” Ryan replied, curtly. “Just tired.”

“Time for home?” Brendon's eyes were big and only a little blank.

Ryan shrugged, and looked up at Spencer. “I have a mattress at home if you want to come and sleep on it.”

“Nah, I'll go to mine.”

“Want me to call you a taxi?” Ryan offered.

Spencer shook his head. “I'll walk. It'll be fun. See yous!” Spencer poked Brendon in the middle of the forehead before strolling off down the street with a stumble to his steps.