Status: completed--check out my "photo" section for a cover drawing!

If I Told You I Loved You, How Far Would You Run?

Testosterone Boys

I’m curled up on my bed, journal and pen in hand, inking out the words that will never be able to convey my feelings towards Ryan.

I knew I was screwed from that first time you caught me staring, the first time you grinned at me, the first time you walked away. Why did you have to call me “sweetheart,” act so seductive, tease me? You’re so handsome and perfect and you know it. You could have anyone you want. All I want is that someone to be me.

“Hey, Brendon, what are you writing?” Ryan asks, beginning to lean over my shoulder. I hadn’t even heard him come in.

“Nothing!” I startle, snapping my journal closed. “I mean, um, it’s really personal.”

Ryan shoots me a look, half amused, half understanding, half frustrated. No wait, that doesn’t add up. He looks amused and understanding and burning with frustration. I wonder what’s up with him, but I know better than to ask.

“Let me guess,” he states flatly. “It’s about some girl and how in love with her you are.”

“It is not!” I squeak. Ryan gives me his don’t-you-dare-lie-to-me look, and I pretend to cave in: “Okay, it’s about this girl I met, but it’s not like I’m love with her. I just think she’s hot.”

Ryan rolls his eyes. “Right, you just ‘think she’s hot,’“ he snickers. “And I suppose you just happen to be feeling horny?”

He might be joking, but he just hit the nail on the head. I’m a seventeen-year-old closet gay boy living in an apartment with two of my friends, and I’ve never had a relationship. I’ve never had a relationship and then I meet this sexy guy who is constantly hanging out at our apartment and he can play the guitar wicked good. Oh yeah, and now he’s my best friend. How can I not be turned on by that? How can I not be horny?

I know that Ryan is waiting for my snarky retort, so I slide my hand across his back. “Yes, Ryan,” I deadpan. “I am so incredibly horny that I’m gonna kiss you until you can’t see straight.”

His breath catches for second, his honeyed eyes stretched wide, then he gives me a look so dirty that I feel ashamed for saying that to him. “You’re a sick bastard,” he says quietly and turns away from me, mumbling something under his breath.

“Come on, Ryan, you know I’m just teasing you.”

“Well, I wish you wouldn’t!” he snaps around, glaring at me. “I wish you wouldn’t always use me as your little boy toy to get your horniness out of your system. I wish that you wouldn’t constantly send me mixed messages.”

Whoa, whoa, whoa. He thinks that I use him as a boy toy? What? I mean, I guess I do flirt with him a lot. “Ryan. Ryan!” He stops his ranting long enough to glower at me. “Dude, what are you talking about?”

“I just wish that you would treat me more like a friend and less like a ... convenience,” he chokes out, hands pressed to his face.

“Shit, I’m sorry, Ryan,” I blurt out. “I never ... I never knew you felt like that. And I do think of you as friend! My best friend. I just have ... awkward ways of showing it.”

He does one of those little sob-laugh numbers—“I’ll say.”

I hold out my arms. “Come here, man, come here. I’m sorry, you know I am,” I say. Ryan scoots over to meet my embrace and we fall over backwards to snuggle on my bed. “You know you had me thinking there for a while,” I comment, trying to keep my voice causal as I slide my fingers through his dark bangs.

“Mm?”

“I mean, it kinda sounded like you ... had a crush on me,” I tell him lightly, and he bolts up right. I know I’ve totally ruined the moment as he scrambles over to the foot of my bed to sit cross-legged, staring me down.

“You conceited, vain, little ...” his voice trails off. “And what would you do if I did?” he asks suddenly.

Oh. That was not the answer I was expecting, and it’s making me blush like crazy. “No,” I say firmly, unable to look him the eye.

“’No’ what?”

“No, I won’t answer your stupid, hypothetical questions,” I snap, gathering my journal to my chest and turning away. “Go and play your psychotherapy games with Spencer or Jon!”

I feel the bedsprings tremble beneath me, and suddenly Ryan’s leaning his delicate chin on my shoulder, cold cheek pressed to my own. “It serves you right, you know,” he murmurs. “After all of your teasing and flirting and—”

“Okay! Okay! I get the point!” I cut across him, but he’s already forgiven in my mind. I lean back to look at him, and we silently stare at each other for a few seconds, and then—

“Forgive me?” we both ask, right at the same time. I immediately crack up laughing while Ryan just watches me quietly.

“Yeah,” he murmurs. “I forgive you, Brendon.”

Yes! Mission successful! I catapult myself up right and then fling myself at him. He blinks in surprise as he lands on his back on my bed; I’m sitting astride his waist, grinning down at him. “I forgive you too, Ry,” I smile sweetly.

“Okay, okay, now get offa me, you great lump,” he mumbles, eyes laughing as he pushes me off. “’Sides, you know I can never stay mad at you.”

I flop down beside him. “Good.”

He gives me a crooked grin and nestles his head up against my shoulder. My hand automatically jumps to his hair, and with a smile on my face, I watch his eyes flutter closed. As I stroke his soft hair, Ryan’s breathing becomes heavier and slower until I’m sure that he’s asleep.

Sliding out from under him, I walk silently to the door and let myself out into the living room, where Spencer and Jon are playing Go Fish on the couch.

“Do you have a three?” Jon asks.

“Go Fish,” Spencer replies.

Jon’s smile twists in frustration: “Do you have a ni—”

Go Fish, Jon,” Spencer repeats. “And anyways, it’s my turn.” Jon sighs and takes a card from the deck. “Do you have a jack?”

Jon curses and hands Spencer the card he had just picked up. “How are you so good at this game?” he grumbles.

Spencer just laughs, adding the jacks to his growing pile of paired cards.

I throw myself into the armchair opposite them and kick my feet up onto the coffee table.

“Where’s Ryan?” Spencer asks, eyeing my feet with distaste.

Wiggling my toes at him, I grin. “He fell asleep.”

“He should just move in,” Jon suggests. “I mean, he practically lives in your room as it is.”

“He has a family, Jon,” Spencer reminds him. “He can’t just run away. Do you have a five?”

“N-no,” Jon shifts in his seat.

“Hand it over, Jon. I know you’re lying.”

Jon slides the five of hearts over to Spencer. “But Ryan would do so much better here with us,” he complains. “It’s just him and his dad in that spooky, old house.”

“Exactly, Jon. He can’t leave his dad all by myself,” Spencer picks the card up. “And you’re supposed to say ‘go fish,’ by the way.”

“Dammit! I knew I forgot something!”

I laugh, wishing that Ryan would move in and then he really could live in my room. Preferably also in my bed. Then I furiously shake my head in an attempt to clear the thoughts from my head.

“So once I finish whipping Jon’s ass, you wanna catch a movie or something?” Spencer asks, causing Jon to scowl at him.

“Why don’t we just rent a movie and make popcorn and have our own little party here?” I counter, leaning back in my chair.

Jon smirks. “Yeah, come on, Spence. Brendon’s idea is clearly superior to yours.”

“At least I had an idea,” Spence sniffs. “Mr. Inferiority-Complex.”

Throwing his cards down, Jon gets to his feet. “I quit!” he stalks over to our little kitchenette.

Spencer leans over to look at Jon’s cards—“I knew you had an ace!”

“Yeah, yeah, so what,” Jon grumbles but there’s a smile curved on his face.

His loud proclamation of resignation must’ve woken Ryan, since a sleepy-eyed little hottie now stands in the doorway to my room, looking at the rest of us. “What’d I miss?” he yawns.

“Let’s just say that Jon really sucks at Go Fish,” I grin.

Ignoring my comment, Jon adds: “We’re gonna have a movie-party thing tonight. You in?”

“Is my name Ryan Ross?” Ryan replies, grinning widely as he walks over to perch on the arm of my chair.

“Well, technically, your name is George,” I point out.

Rolling his eyes, he smacks me over the head. “You know very well that I don’t consider that to be my name,” he retorts. “But my point was that I wouldn’t dream of missing it.”

“I know,” I laugh, ruffling his hair.

Out of the corner of my eye, I see Spencer and Jon exchange knowing glances. No idea what that means, but I’ll make them tell me all about it later.

“I call dibs on movie-choice!” Jon shouts suddenly and races to the door. “Hey Spence, wanna come with me to Blockbuster?” Spencer calmly follows him over.

When the door shuts behind them, I turn to Ryan. “You know, the apartment’s a lot quieter when Jon’s not here,” he comments with a slight smile.

“Sorry if he woke you,” I apologize.

“It’s fine. Don’t worry about it,” Ryan gently flicks the tip of my nose with his fingertip.

I turn away before he can see my blush. “Well, it looks like it’s up to us to rummage up some snacks.”

“You wanna start on the popcorn?” Ryan suggests. “I’ll call Spencer and ask him to pick up some pop and candy and stuff.”

“Sounds good to me,” I grin and swing into the kitchenette, grabbing for the microwavable-popcorn that Jon always keeps stashed next to the toaster. Jon is a popcorn whore.
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So, um, this is my first time writing a fanfiction, let alone a Rydon. Comments might be nice. :)

Title credit--Lying is the Most Fun a Girl Can Have Without Taking Her Clothes Off (Panic! at the Disco)