What You Thought the Song Meant

i. the present's just a pleasant interruption to the past

Ryan was sitting on the bathroom floor holding a wad of toilet paper to his nose to stop the bleeding. Brendon was sitting on the counter, his face in his hands trying to keep the tears from coming. They were in another hotel, another city. Ryan was trying to remember what it was like without wheels under his feet. Brendon was trying to figure out when Ryan had started snorting drugs to forget things he remembered.

"I don't do coke," Ryan said, pulling the toilet paper from his nose to see if he was still bleeding. He was.

Brendon choked on his laugh. "Oh, so that was just chalk?"

Hot tears slipped down Ryan's cheeks and he swore inside his head. "I don't do it like pot, I mean. Just once in awhile."

"I remember when you wouldn't even drink," Brendon whispered bitterly.

"I remember when you were still a virgin," Ryan shot back, tossing the toilet paper in the toilet and gesturing at Brendon to move away from the sink as he pushed himself up. He ran some warm water and got a washcloth wet, wiping at his chin and under his nose, where the red shone vibrant against his skin.

ii. 'cause we both know what it's like to be alone

They were in bed when Brendon brushed the hair off Ryan's neck and paused for a moment. Ryan knew his boyfriend was seeing the hickey that was still visible even under the concealer. There was silence for a moment, save for the pounding of both their hearts. Then Brendon lowered his head, sucking a bruise lower onto Ryan's neck.

Mine, growled a dark voice in the back of his head. But Brendon knew that had always been a hopeless thought.

iii. and there was hope in me that i could take you there

Ryan let Brendon light the cigarette in his living room even though he didn't let people smoke nicotine inside. "Everything's going to be better in California," Ryan promised. "I'm going to better." He nodded so earnestly that Brendon let himself pretend to believe it. Ryan leaned forward, his lips pressing soft against Brendon's. "I love you and I'll do better."

"I love you, too," Brendon murmured back, his voice soft like the kiss.

Ryan took his clothes off while Brendon finished his cigarette, then let the boy bend him over the back of the couch. He tried to remember a time when sex didn't mean love and he couldn't. It had always been love. Different kind of sex, different kind of love.

Brendon's hands were so sure, so calm. Ryan stared at them gripping his hips as his orgasm ripped through him. Then they got dressed and loaded another bowl. Ryan's fingers were trembling as he lit the pipe.

iv. and you don't want to look much closer

Ryan really hadn't meant to slip back down again. Brendon had a headache and didn't want to go to the party, but said it was fine for Ryan to go. There had been a pretty girl there with soft hair and softer thighs. Her lips were like pillows and they fought Ryan for his sanity. He'd managed to pull away before it went further than the kisses.

He'd gone inside, slumped over the kitchen sink, breathing in and trying to remember. When the pretty boy with the doe eyes ran his fingers down the spine, Ryan didn't have any reserve left to fall back on. Afterward he went to Spencer's instead of home and slept on the couch, crying into the his jacket sleeves and wondering exactly when the wicked fairy had laid such a curse on him.

v. and if this is what it takes just to lie with my mistakes

Brendon was sitting on the couch and Ryan was sitting on the floor between his legs, facing the younger boy, squeezing Brendon's legs as if afraid he might bolt. "I really tried," he whispered. "I just can't be what you deserve." He didn't know what was wrong with him that he couldn't keep his legs closed and his mind on one person.

Brendon took a deep breath, closing his eyes for a moment. "And, what if," he asked as he opened them again, "I said I didn't care?"

Ryan hated himself for the comfort he found in those words. It felt like a syringe of ice water had just been injected into his heart. "I'm still trying," he murmured.

Brendon's fingers tangled in Ryan's hair. "I love you," he breathed.

Ryan echoed the sentiment.

vi. it's to dying in another's arms and why i had to try it

Ryan kissed her and she felt soft under his hands, yielding. He watched the way her hair fell on the pillow and the curve of her smile as his fingers skimmed down her belly. He could stop now. He could leave her without the satisfaction and convince himself he'd done a good thing. But he wouldn't.

She was so wet and so warm. Her mouth was red and open and panting. Ryan thought she looked like a mermaid struggling for air. Afterward she collapsed, so still and warm, her breathing like a steady rain. Ryan got his clothes on and helped the girl find hers.

They went back to the living room where a group of people were smoking or drinking or dancing to music playing from the record player. When the girl cut up the lines with a razor blade later, he had lost all his reasons to say no.

vii. if i hurt you then i'm sorry; please don't think that this was easy

The words still weren't processing in Brendon's mind as Ryan started to pull his clothes out of the dresser and put them into the box by his feet. "Her name's Z," Ryan said.

"I can still--"

"No, you can't." Ryan turned, his eyes serious. "I'm not letting you do this anymore. I'm killing you by letting you stay."

Brendon stepped forward, grabbing Ryan's arm. "I love you. I don't care." His swallowed the lump in his throat. "I don't need it to be like everyone else. I just need you."

Ryan shook his head. "You're miserable and you won't admit it."

viii. did you know i miss you?

Brendon spent the next month crying and drinking. He spent the next month after that sleeping with any brunette boy who would have him. Then he went to Ryan's apartment and knocked on the door.

"I'm a wreck without you," Brendon said the moment the door opened and he saw the amber eyes.

Ryan reached out without a word, pulling the other boy inside by the hand and sitting him down on the couch. "Do you need somewhere to sleep it off?" he asked.

Brendon shook his head, refusing to let go of Ryan's hand. "I need you. I can't do this without you."

Ryan pulled away, standing up. "No, Bren. I make you miserable."

"I'd rather be miserable with you than miserable without you." He stood up, grabbing Ryan's hands, pulling the boy toward him and kissing him on the mouth. "You're the only thing I understand about myself."

"I'm the worst possible thing for you."

Brendon kissed him again, fingers sliding across Ryan's cheek. "You don't have to protect me from you anymore."

Ryan gave a strangled sob as he nodded, his fingers twisting in the sleeve of Brendon's jacket and holding him there, afraid to let him go. "I love you," he promised and Brendon believed him.

ix. but we don't have much room to live

Brendon was lying in their bed, staring up the ceiling. Ryan had just gotten home. He'd heard the front door open and close. The numbers on the clock confirmed it was after three. Brendon rolled over and squeezed his eyes shut, feigning sleep.

Ryan came in, smelling like alcohol and perfume. The tears on his cheeks had dried during the taxi ride home. He leaned over the bed, kissing Brendon on the cheek. "I tried to save you from me," he murmured.

Brendon bit his lip. He reminded himself of the same damn thing every day.

x. isn't that what you said what you thought this song meant?

Brendon answered the text message and kissed his girlfriend, lied to her and said he had to go pick up a friend from a bar. He slipped on his shoes and took off down the street. When he got to Ryan's apartment, they didn't waste any time in working off clothes and working in fingers.

"I love you," Ryan said as they were getting dressed. He looked up from buttoning his shirt. "I always love you, Bren," he repeated, as if more to himself than the other boy.

Brendon nodded. "I love you too, Ry." And he did. They were okay. They weren't great, but they weren't just fine either. They were okay. Brendon had never realized there could be such different ways to love a person and know that it was okay, even if you were breaking twenty rules in doing so.

As long as he could have Ryan, be the only one that boy ever tattooed himself to, as long as he could have that he'd be able to handle everything else that came with it.

"Z and I are going to break up soon."

Brendon nodded again, lacing up his shoes. "I have to get back to Sarah."

Ryan crossed the room, letting his lips press against Brendon's for a quick second. "I'll see you soon," he said.

Brendon smiled and left. When he got in the car he wondered if the love song playing on the radio really meant when he thought it did. There were no love songs for people like him and Ryan.