Confusion Is the Strongest Emotion

They drove back that afternoon. Pete kept trying to corner Ryan and the younger boy kept pushing away, trying not to cry. Pete wasn't trying to start anything again, he just wanted to help. He couldn't shake the feeling that it was his fault and that hurt him more than any rejected advance possibly could. He'd confess his feelings to Patrick later, once the two boys had left. And Patrick would tell him that it wasn't his fault, Ryan was screwed up over Brendon, and that Pete really needed to learn how to keep his legs closed.

The car ride was quiet on Ryan's part. Brendon was talking about the recording studio and how he couldn't wait to go away to record. "Just a couple months." he said, the fervor evident in his voice, eyes wide. His smile would have been infectious if Ryan didn't feel like such a complete and utter chickenshit. But it was beautiful nonetheless. "We'll be doing it for us. And your songs. And then concerts. I think we can really pull this off." he added, voice softer, like he was finally beginning to believe, to understand what Ryan had seen the day he found out Brendon could sing.

They got back to the apartment around six thirty due to a couple of accidents on the road that stalled traffic and Ryan deciding they had to go to McDonalds and sit down in a booth because his legs were sick of sitting in the car. Brendon didn't understand the difference between sitting in one place or another, but when he decided to bring it up, the look from Ryan possibly made the foliage behind them wilt and die.

They both carried their own suitcases (or, rather, Ryan's suitcase and Brendon's duffle bag) inside. Ryan went to shower even though he didn't really need it, hollering at the other boy through the door to do his homework if it wasn't done because there were classes tomorrow. The only good thing about Sundays anymore was that church was no longer a requirement. The promise of the Monday to follow was always enough to destroy anything "sunny" about the final day of the weekend.

Ryan stood in the shower, arms tightly holding himself together (possibly) while the tears coarsed down his cheeks. Sleeping with Pete hadn't solved anything the way he'd thought it would. It had just made the problem bigger. He didn't care about Brendon; he loved him. And he was just like those characters he never envied in the movies, just studied for their reactions. He didn't watch romances for the romance; he watched them so he'd have something to write about, because he needed to understand what he didn't understand.

And now that he did, he thought all of those movies were so damn stupid, with the exception of 'Closer' maybe. Because the romance that went with love, didn't seem to exist. It was just that feeling of hopelessness and uncertainty. It was a hole, not a ladder. And people who wished for love were stupid. He would have traded that feeling in a heartbeat. But he couldn't. He loved Brendon. And that was that.

What to do about it, however, was another story entirely.

He threw the candy heart in the toilet when he was done changing, watching it disappear when he flushed. He wasn't a hopeless romantic, he told himself, just hopeless. He forced a smile on his face when he opened the door, but Brendon wasn't there. He must have gone outside to have a cigarette. So Ryan threw himself on the bed-slash-couch and hoped that he'd be able to will himself to sleep before the front door opened again.

*

Ryan really didn't want to talk to Spencer about Brendon. It wasn't that he didn't trust Spencer. It was more along the lines of the fact that he never wanted to admit to having a problem, ever, to anyone. But especially Spencer. He couldn't explain why that was since he'd known his best friend for fourteen years. There was no way the other boy would laugh or tease him. Okay, there was every potential way that could occur. They were boys and they were friends. But underneath the jibes and the jokes, they would be a real desire to help.

"I'm in love with Brendon." Ryan said in the same way he'd rip off a Band-Aid. Then he winced at the pain that wasn't physical.

Spencer let out a low whistle, then winced. "Sorry." he said. "It just . . . came out. Wasn't expecting that one." He sat down on his bed and Ryan sat next to him. "I mean, I knew you liked him." He hesitated, not sure if he wanted to cross the bridge he was thinking about, but then he just closed his eyes and put his foot out. "Did you love Trevor?"

Ryan gave a choked laugh. "I'm not as smart as I think I am, am I?"

Spencer squeezed his shoulder. "Sure you are. You're just not as sneaky as you think you are."

They sat there for a few minutes and then the older answered the question. There was no point in ignoring the questions. He'd come here. He'd wanted the help. "No, I didn't." he mumbled. "I mean, I loved him, but not like this. I don't think I was in love with him."

"I don't understand the problem." Spencer admitted. "Can't you just tell him? I mean, he's crazy about you if that's what you're worried about.

That time Ryan didn't answer because he didn't know the answer. Or rather, he did, but for the first time in his life he couldn't put that feeling into words. They ended up watching a movie and it wasn't until Ryan was driving back to the apartment that he realized what he had to do.

Unfortunately, it was April, and he was fairly certain they stopped selling conversation hearts after the clearanced Valentines' candy was gone.

*

Brendon didn't know if he was in love with Ryan. But he did know that it hurt every time he thought about the fact that Ryan wasn't his, wouldn't talk to him about why he was scared. And he knew Pete and Ryan had slept together. He'd heard them that night, in the basement. He'd gotten up to find Ryan gone, wandered out into the hallway to try and find him. He'd heard the noises coming from the basement and then he'd turned and run back to bed.

He couldn't understand what was so wrong with him that Ryan couldn't be with him. He knew he wasn't as cute as the boys Ryan slept with, but he was nicer. He'd treat Ryan better, he knew it. Because he didn't just want sex; he wanted the boy. He understood Ryan, sang his words. He saw the poetry and everyone else just saw the body. It wasn't fair, but he didn't know what he could do about it.

It seemed like every time he tried something, Ryan was crying or screaming at him to stop.

He was on break at work, sucking on a cigarette behind the building. Kendra had been bugging him about his trip to LA, if he and Ryan had "consummated" their relationship yet, had they had a three-way with "that one Pete dude". He was getting dangerously close to hitting her even though he'd never hit anyone before, let alone a girl. So he'd asked Chad if he could take his fifteen.

But, then again, after the first night home, Ryan had been so much nicer. He hadn't yelled at Brendon to do his homework. (Not that he'd stopped nagging, but his voice was softer when he did it.) He was playing with the younger boy's hair sometimes when they watched movies and the night before he'd even planted a kiss to Brendon's forehead before they'd gone to bed.

Plus he'd gotten a ride to school every day so far.

"Fifteen's up." Kendra hollered, poking her head out the back door. "So did you see any movie stars out there?"

*

Ryan went into work about half an hour early the next day. "Who has leftover Valentines' candy?" he asked the moment he stepped into the store, ignoring the customers. Andrew and Bethany were behind the counter and they both gave him the confused look he was so used be on the receiving end of.

"Valentines' candy?" The girl squinted her eyes, confused. "That was, like, two months ago."

"I know, thus the reason I'm asking. I can't just go to the store." Ryan rolled his eyes. "I need those hearts. The ones with words on 'em."

Andrew tried not to smirk, but it wasn't quite successful. "This wouldn't happen to have anything to do with your bubblebutt roommate, would it?"

"You can go fuck yourself."

The shift manager laughed. "Oh, you're such a tease, Ry. But, seriously, I got two sisters in school and my parents are total candy Nazis, so they make them put all their candy in a bowl and then they hide it. I'll see if they have any. Their Halloween candy usually lasts until summer vacation, so I wouldn't be surprised if they do. You'll owe me, though."

Ryan gave a small smile. "Better come up with your choice of payment fast 'cause hopefully I'll be off the market in the next few days."

Kendra squealed. "You're getting married!"

Both boys rolled their eyes.

*

Brendon had learned by now that if Ryan wasn't there to pick him up right away, he'd be there soon enough. So he would wait in front of the building, leaning against the wall. He'd have a cigarette in hand, most likely, and a smoothie by his foot. He might have two smoothies, depending on who he was closing with. Chad didn't like him to sneak out an extra smoothie for Ryan, but the other managers didn't tend to mind.

Tonight he had the cigarette and the one smoothie, blueberry and peach. His iPod was almost dead, but he still had the earphones in. The latest Ryan had ever showed up was a half hour and that was only because he'd fallen asleep and then almost run out of gas. Usually it was just ten minutes or so and Brendon wasn't a patient person by nature, but he wasn't impatient either. He was tapping his feet against the pavement and he'd pace sometimes, but it was just too keep busy, not annoyance. If it weren't for Ryan, he'd be taking the bus with people who smelled like they didn't own deodorant.

The car pulled up with a quick honk on the horn in case Brendon was too lost in the blaring music to notice. But he was already bending down to pick up the smoothie, slipping the earphones out as he climbed into the passenger seat. "Some girl asked me if we had a three way with Pete while we were in LA today." he said, almost immediately, half forcing the laughter.

"Kendra told me that we were getting married." Ryan added, grinning. It was a real smile, for once. It was different to trade jokes about their perceieved involvement rather than tensing up if Spencer tossed out as a casual comment about how they should 'just do it already'.

"I'm hungry." Brendon sucked on his straw. "Anything to eat at home?"

"I think we still have one of those French bread pizza things." the older boy said. "Then you should get your homework done." He wanted to reach out and stroke Brendon's cheek, but he didn't. It was too suspect. He wanted to take the younger boy to some restaurant and force feed him until he refound all the weight he'd lost, but he didn't have the money. So he just turned the radio up.

Ryan was right and there was a singular single serving French bread pizza still in the freezer, that he immediately put into the microwave. "I'm gonna pee. Can you take that out when it's done?"

After Brendon had eaten, he didn't want to do his homework and Ryan finally shrugged it off and let him skip for the night, deciding that if he had time he'd do Brendon's math himself after the younger boy fell asleep. But for now, they were just going to argue about what movie to watch and then curl up together.

That night Brendon snuck out without telling Ryan. There was a party he'd heard about at work. The new girl at work, Julia, had mentioned it and when he'd asked, she'd told him where it was and to bring a friend if he wanted. The latter part he ignored, but at midnight he snuck out, deciding he'd lie and say he was having a smoke if Ryan asked, but the older boy was either asleep or didn't care. Brendon hoped it was the former.

He shouldn't have been walking around at night and he knew it. It was stupid, it wasn't safe. And he was certainly not a threat, pretty easy to jump. But he made it to the bus stop and got off an Canterbury like Julia had said. It was pretty easy to find the party. It was still in full swing, loud music and all the lights on in the house. And Brendon wondered where the parents were, how the kid could get away with the party on a Wednesday night. And then he realized it was Wednesday night, technically Thursday, but everyone says it's still that day until they go to sleep. So it was Wednesday, church night, and he was going to a party.

If he believed in God, he would have giggled about what he considered almost the equivalent of a childish middle finger. But he was pretty sure he didn't believe in God anymore, so he just went inside and grabbed the first beer he saw and looked around for Julia so he could find someone he knew to talk to. But then he saw the group of kids in the circle passing the joint around and he just sort of snuck in.

Paul's a common name, he told himself as he stepped in, so if anyone asks, you know Paul. The guy next to him held the joint out and he took it, not even earning a double glance. But the girl he passed it to after his double hit, smiled and almost winked, but seemed to change her mind at the last moment. She was cute, but not hot. Jeans and a tee shirt, nothing low-cut or too tight. But he wasn't complaining. It wasn't like he had a lot of options.

But his stomach gave this lurch and Ryan's face flashed inside his brain and Brendon turned, taking a few steps and then leaning against some counter in the kitchen, taking another drink of his beer and trying to blend in. He felt a hand squeezing his elbow and turned around, expecting to see Julia, but it was the girl from the circle. "Hi." she smiled at him. "I'm Courtney."

And when he smiled back, his chin shook for a second, but he stopped it. "Brendon." he supplied. "Nice to meet you."

"You wanna make out?" It was bold, especially for a high school girl because he could have just as easily called her a slut as said yes, or blown her off. And maybe this wasn't a party with people she knew either and she didn't have anything to risk because no one from school would know the next day. Maybe she was like him, but maybe she wasn't.

And he did want to make out. Badly. Physical contact for sexual reasons and not just Ryan wanting to snuggle before bed. He wanted to kiss a girl for the first time, pull on her hair a little and maybe touch her boobs. He didn't want to hurt Ryan and he tried so hard to push that nasty voice out of his head, the one that was screaming how Ryan hadn't cared about hurting Brendon when he went down to the basement with Pete. But the voice remained.

And Brendon kissed her.

They were there for a few minutes and then she pulled him away by the hand and they were in a bed the next thing he realized. He kissed her again and when his hands were tentative, slipping up her sides, she pushed them to her chest. She was so soft, so curvy, so different than Ryan. She felt like a cloud and Brendon had to leave because he was hard and the tears were already stinging his eyes.

He could hear her voice, so confused, and he couldn't understand how two people doing the same thing could be thinking such different things and feel the same emotion. He kept opening doors, or trying to when they were locked, until he found a bathroom and it was empty, thank God. He figured that was probably incredibly unlikely, but he didn't care. He locked the door behind him and braced himself against the sink, breathing so hard his ribs hurt and trying not to cry.

Brendon was still hard and he couldn't understand how that was really possible because he didn't think he'd been less turned on, ever. After five minutes of crying and choking on tears and then his breathing slowing, he realized the problem wasn't going away. The shower looked oddly inviting. Not because he enjoyed jerking off in showers without water, especially in strange houses when he didn't know what person was usually in there, naked. But it was the only place where he could close the door further and he wouldn't have to see what else was in the room.

Brendon had never cried while jerking off before. He, of course, had given the choked sob during climax at least a handful of times, especially the few times he'd pushed fingers into himself, but he was sobbing. He did not want to be doing this, not here, and not after what he'd just done. But he wasn't going to walk through the house and to the bus stop with an erection that he couldn't conceal in his too tight jeans (that Ryan had picked out). His jeans were down, but not off and his shoes were still on because he wasn't going to stand in that shower and get athlete's foot or warts or worse just because his dick was clearly retarded.

When he came, he felt he biggest surge of self-hatred and disgust that he was certain any human could ever possibly feel. And then he pulled his jeans back up and washed his hands, before slipping out the bathroom door and keeping his head down. On the bus ride, all he could think about was whether or not anyone else knew, if they could tell by looking at him what a bad person he was. And then that nasty voice started talking again, saying he was no worse than Ryan, better even because at least he'd felt guilty and had a reaction.

But the nasty voice was quieter than before and Brendon couldn't hear it at all when he started to wonder if Ryan had felt the same way after he'd slept with Pete. And if he would have known that the older boy had climbed into the shower as well when he was done with Pete, he would have thought about it in a decibel to rival Ryan's thinking. But he didn't know.

*

Ryan woke up alone. He didn't panic at first, just waited for Brendon to come back from the bathroom or back inside from smoking. But after he dozed off while waiting and woke up the second time alone, he felt his stomach beginning to twist. He got up, yawning and trying to blink the sleep from his eyes. The bathroom was empty. And when he slipped on a pair of shoes and went outside to go check that spot under the stairs on the side of building where he knew Brendon liked to smoke and the boy wasn't there, he didn't quite know what to think.

Ryan sat up for an hour and when the door opened, he didn't whether to get up and hit Brendon in the face or slump over in relief. "Where the hell were you?" he demanded, turning around, eyes flashing as he stared down the younger boy.

Brendon could have lied. It probably would have been easier. But he was still fighting with that nasty voice in his head and being so emotionally drained he wasn't sure if he could manage to pull a lie out of his ass. Ryan would have lied, probably, the voice was saying. So he just said it. "I was at a party." he murmured.

"You didn't even leave a note." Ryan was done being livid. He was too tired. "Do you have any idea how worried I was?"

"Sorry, Mom." It was definitely a pointed statement, but the bite wasn't evident which just made it even worse.

The older boy stood up, kicking his shoes off and walking back to the bed. "Fine. Sorry for caring about you. I'll make sure I don't in the future."

Brendon wanted to cry. He felt like shit. He didn't play the asshole very well. The role didn't fit him. And he had been worrying about Ryan throughout the night, worrying about what would happen to them. And that girl's face was somewhere in the back of his mind. "I'm sorry." he whispered. "I didn't . . . I didn't think you'd know I was gone."

"You didn't think." Ryan said, sitting down and pulling the blankets over himself.

"I kissed this chick."

The older boy's brain went completely blank for a moment. He didn't know what to think. Brendon was kissing a girl. He'd kissed a girl. His first kiss with a girl, Ryan knew. And he was angry, even though he knew he didn't have the right. He wondered, not for the first time, what they were coming to. This had to end sometime. They couldn't play these games forever. Ryan couldn't play these games forever. Brendon never would have played in the first place, he knew, if Ryan hadn't started.

"Oh. So . . . how was that?"

"I . . . I kinda left her there." Brendon mumbled. "I just . . . I didn't want to be with her." His voice got a little louder, desperate, pleading almost. "I don't want to be with anyone else. Just you." His voice was dangerously close to breaking and the tears from the bathroom seemed to have found him again.

"I slept with Pete." It wasn't an admission Ryan had ever meant to give, especially like that. And he was so mad at Brendon in that moment for almost forcing it out of him with the way he was so broken apart and so upset. But he was more mad at himself.

"I know. I heard you." Brendon made his way to bed, sitting down next to the other boy. "But I kind of figured you would when you didn't say you wouldn't."

"I never want to lie to you." Ryan lifted his head, meeting the mocha eyes with his own caramel. "I don't want to hurt you either. I know I do, but I don't want to." And he was almost crying, too. "I'm so sick of this, Brendon."

And the younger boy kissed him, soft and tender, the way he hadn't kissed the girl before. "Then just be with me." He buried his face in Ryan's neck. "Okay? I'll take care of you. We can be okay. You just have to trust me."

The tears came then and the older boy didn't even bother to wipe them away. "I don't want to hurt you." He sucked in a deep breath, wincing as the cold air made his teeth sting. "I hurt every guy I'm with. Or they hurt me. And it's just . . . I don't want that with us."

"We're hurting each because we're not together." Brendon hated to point out. "Maybe they just weren't right for you. Maybe I am."

"I fell in love with you." The confessions were just coming quicker and quicker and Ryan knew that soon enough he wouldn't have any left, wouldn't have any pretense of control or a mask to hide behind. It would just be him and he would be so vulnerable in front of the other boy. How would he ever respect Ryan again? "I didn't mean to."

"Who would?" Brendon chuckled, the air from his breath tickling the skin of the other boy's neck. "Can we just stop now?"

It took all of Ryan's strength to continue to breathe at that moment. He didn't have anywhere to hide. He didn't have anywhere to go. And he wasn't sure he wanted somewhere to go. So he nodded.

Brendon kissed him again, hard this time, falling back onto the bed and pulling Ryan with him, squeezing the younger boy so tightly it almost hurt, trying to anchor them together, memorize the feel of Ryan's weight against him. And in that moment, of Brendon feeling Ryan's weight, Ryan didn't feel his own. He couldn't feel the heaviness of everything on him anymore.

"Don't you have school tomorrow?" the older boy asked in a whisper when Brendon showed no signs of stopping his kisses or the fingertips that were now tracing the verterbrae under Ryan's shirt.

"I'm eighteen. I'll call myself in sick."

"I have work."

"Too bad."

*

The next was Thursday, practice. No work for Brendon. Ryan picked him at the school with Spencer in the backseat and there was brief moment of hesitation before they kissed. Spencer squealed like a girl, then kicked the back of Ryan's seat as hard as he possibly could,earning an expletive and a dirty look.

"Finally." the boy returned in reply, laughing at loud. "Jesus, took you long enough. Aren't you supposed to date before you move in together?"

"I am going to come back there and choke you with your own--"

But whatever Ryan was going to choke Spencer with was lost in the sound of a car horn sounding behind them. And the three of them laughed. It was probably the most important moment the three of them had shared next to Brendon joining the band and the record deal and, once again, it was only the three of them. And if they had a crystal ball, they would have known it was an foreshadowing of what was to come.

But they didn't, so they just continued to laugh on their way to Spencer's, where they made frozen pizzas and watched a movie before practice.

And when the two boys got back to the apartment after practice, there was a yellow candy heart on Brendon's pillow with the words 'Be Mine'. And the younger boy smiled, the knowledge of what had happened to his warming him to the tips of his toes.

"So," Ryan said, wrapping his arms around Brendon from behind and resting his chin on the younger boy's shoulder, "Chinese or Hot Pockets?"