And The Smoke Carried The Words From His Mouth
1/1
Brendon watched Ryan take a long hit from the bong, his thin hands nearly shaking as he clasped onto his lighter. The bong sat between his legs, but began to fall to the side slightly when Ryan was finished and the smoke relaxed his muscles the same way it relaxed Brendon’s, causing his eyes to fall ever so slightly shut. Doggedly, Brendon reached out and tore the bong from Ryan’s lap and placed it in his own. Ryan made a small noise of annoyance, but didn’t move. Brendon smiled to himself before flicking at his lighter until the small flame appeared.
“You know,” Ryan started. He continued but Brendon could barely hear him over the water bubbling in his lap. Not that he cared to listen, to begin with. He inhaled until his chest hurt. Ryan was watching him, an expectant expression on his face. Inwardly, Brendon wanted to laugh because he couldn’t quite believe that Ryan was actually anticipating an answer. After a long exhale, he looked to Ryan.
“Huh?”
Ryan rolled his eyes and leaned back against the couch. “Never mind,” he mumbled.
Brendon sighed. “Whatever…”
Ryan stared down at his hands resting on his lap and his foot began bouncing impatiently. Beyond the smoke, something was reaching out and suffocating him. His head grew faint as he thought about how little Brendon seemed to care about anything he had to say anymore. There had been a time when nothing appeared to matter more to the young man that Ryan’s thoughts and opinions. The album already told Ryan that Brendon had moved on, but seeing it in person was much harder than hearing it on record (which he had done too many times to count already).
To busy himself, Ryan reached out and snatched the bong from Brendon. If his hands hadn’t been shaking before, they certainly were now. He dropped his lighter as he tried to ignite it. He swore to himself and ran his trembling hand through his hair. Brendon leaned forward and seemed concerned. After grasping his lighter, Ryan leaned forward, bringing his lips to the opening of the bong and inhaled deeply, the smoke tickling his throat.
“You know?” he heard Brendon say. His mischievous grin told Ryan that he was mocking him. After he removed the choke, he flipped Brendon off, even before he had finished intaking all of the smoke. Brendon laughed half-heartedly and watched Ryan exhale the smoke from his mouth. Ryan had always managed to make that look sexier than Brendon could.
“Well, how were you expecting me to answer then?” Brendon asked, his laugh still sounding in his voice.
“Yeah, well, I was being serious,” Ryan retorted. He hated how fucking whiny he sounded.
Brendon rolled his eyes. “Sorry…” Sarcasm dripped off of his words.
Ryan watched him for a moment, anger rising with him. “Do you even care about what I said?”
“Not if it wasn’t about me.” His voice slithered like a snake.
Ryan’s eyes narrowed. “You’ve become a real asshole, you know that?”
“I was with you for two years, wasn’t I?” Brendon interjected.
Ryan ignored him and continued. “Did all the fame from writing the same five, sure-hit songs over and over finally get to you?”
“Oh, fuck off,” Brendon muttered and stood up. He grabbed the bong from Ryan’s hands and took it to the kitchen. Ryan stayed where he was and listened as the tap turned on. He sighed heavily and sank back into the couch, waiting for Brendon to return. Ryan looked over at the small coffee table beside him. Beside the small lamp that gave the room its only light, was a picture of Brendon and his girlfriend in a small black picture frame. Ryan rolled his eyes and crossed his arms over his chest.
“I make music, just like you,” Brendon said suddenly from the doorway. Ryan looked up at him quickly. He hadn’t heard his socked feet pace across the tiled floor the way he used to. “Yours isn’t any better than mine because it isn’t played on MTV. I like the music me and Spencer make. And you used to too.”
“Yeah, I did then. But I was nineteen when I wrote that stuff. I couldn’t write another angry album—I wasn’t angry… I was with you… You could have said something when we were recording, that you didn’t like the new direction, or whatever.”
“I was scared,” Brendon answered. “I was scared that I would lose you.” Ryan opened his mouth to speak, but Brendon continued. “And don’t say I wouldn’t have because I did! Look at us…”
“You didn’t lose me because of the music; you lost me because you fell in love with someone else.”
“We were falling apart long before I met Sarah,” Brendon mumbled.
“But then you gave up on fixing us,” Ryan interjected.
“It was about time, wasn’t it?” Brendon pleaded. “Jesus, Ry. I was tired of coming back over and over again just in time for you to fuck up again and then promise it wouldn’t happen again—again!” The room was silent, except for Brendon’s heavy breathing. “I didn’t leave you because I loved her more; I left you because it was easier being with anybody other than you.”
“So that song?” Ryan asked, his voice cracking like a tea cup.
“I meant every word in it,” Brendon answered flatly, though his voice was softer than the stone it had just been. Ryan nodded, the lamp within him flickering until it turned off. “I do love her, Ryan…”
“I know you do,” Ryan replied.
“But it wasn’t the song that I really wanted to write.” Ryan looked up at him, his eyes shining the way they hadn’t in months. Brendon’s mouth was pulled into a small smile. I really wanted to write a song about you, but I couldn’t figure out how to do it without all those girls going nuts.” A strangled laugh escaped his lips. “Besides,” he began again. “‘Ryan Smiles’ doesn’t sound nearly as good.”
Ryan pushed a laugh from his throat. “No… It hasn’t got the same ring to it…”
Brendon smiled down at his hands. His foot began to bounce slowly, covering the silence that fell over them like a blanket slightly.
“Do you want a coke,” he finally asked. “I’m just grabbing one.”
“No… Thanks…” Ryan wondered how many times he had said ‘thank you’ when he had been with Brendon. His heart sank as he realized that he might be able to count the number on his hands.
“You sure?”
“Yeah…”
Brendon stood and swiftly exited to the kitchen. Ryan watched him, his body bouncing up and down like that of a child on the first day of school. Ryan always resented how happily he had been able to move on from the broken moments they had once shared together, how despite all the heartache that Ryan had given him, he still seemed to be living the Disney movies that he watched endlessly even though he had long been too old for them.
“Do you want me to get more weed?” Brendon called from the kitchen. “I’ve got some in my box upstairs.”
“Yes…” Ryan muttered, his voice hardly above a whisper.
“What’s that?” Brendon asked, his head peering through the doorway into the living area.
“Yeah,” Ryan repeated, a newfound huskiness in his voice. “Sounds good…”
“You know,” Ryan started. He continued but Brendon could barely hear him over the water bubbling in his lap. Not that he cared to listen, to begin with. He inhaled until his chest hurt. Ryan was watching him, an expectant expression on his face. Inwardly, Brendon wanted to laugh because he couldn’t quite believe that Ryan was actually anticipating an answer. After a long exhale, he looked to Ryan.
“Huh?”
Ryan rolled his eyes and leaned back against the couch. “Never mind,” he mumbled.
Brendon sighed. “Whatever…”
Ryan stared down at his hands resting on his lap and his foot began bouncing impatiently. Beyond the smoke, something was reaching out and suffocating him. His head grew faint as he thought about how little Brendon seemed to care about anything he had to say anymore. There had been a time when nothing appeared to matter more to the young man that Ryan’s thoughts and opinions. The album already told Ryan that Brendon had moved on, but seeing it in person was much harder than hearing it on record (which he had done too many times to count already).
To busy himself, Ryan reached out and snatched the bong from Brendon. If his hands hadn’t been shaking before, they certainly were now. He dropped his lighter as he tried to ignite it. He swore to himself and ran his trembling hand through his hair. Brendon leaned forward and seemed concerned. After grasping his lighter, Ryan leaned forward, bringing his lips to the opening of the bong and inhaled deeply, the smoke tickling his throat.
“You know?” he heard Brendon say. His mischievous grin told Ryan that he was mocking him. After he removed the choke, he flipped Brendon off, even before he had finished intaking all of the smoke. Brendon laughed half-heartedly and watched Ryan exhale the smoke from his mouth. Ryan had always managed to make that look sexier than Brendon could.
“Well, how were you expecting me to answer then?” Brendon asked, his laugh still sounding in his voice.
“Yeah, well, I was being serious,” Ryan retorted. He hated how fucking whiny he sounded.
Brendon rolled his eyes. “Sorry…” Sarcasm dripped off of his words.
Ryan watched him for a moment, anger rising with him. “Do you even care about what I said?”
“Not if it wasn’t about me.” His voice slithered like a snake.
Ryan’s eyes narrowed. “You’ve become a real asshole, you know that?”
“I was with you for two years, wasn’t I?” Brendon interjected.
Ryan ignored him and continued. “Did all the fame from writing the same five, sure-hit songs over and over finally get to you?”
“Oh, fuck off,” Brendon muttered and stood up. He grabbed the bong from Ryan’s hands and took it to the kitchen. Ryan stayed where he was and listened as the tap turned on. He sighed heavily and sank back into the couch, waiting for Brendon to return. Ryan looked over at the small coffee table beside him. Beside the small lamp that gave the room its only light, was a picture of Brendon and his girlfriend in a small black picture frame. Ryan rolled his eyes and crossed his arms over his chest.
“I make music, just like you,” Brendon said suddenly from the doorway. Ryan looked up at him quickly. He hadn’t heard his socked feet pace across the tiled floor the way he used to. “Yours isn’t any better than mine because it isn’t played on MTV. I like the music me and Spencer make. And you used to too.”
“Yeah, I did then. But I was nineteen when I wrote that stuff. I couldn’t write another angry album—I wasn’t angry… I was with you… You could have said something when we were recording, that you didn’t like the new direction, or whatever.”
“I was scared,” Brendon answered. “I was scared that I would lose you.” Ryan opened his mouth to speak, but Brendon continued. “And don’t say I wouldn’t have because I did! Look at us…”
“You didn’t lose me because of the music; you lost me because you fell in love with someone else.”
“We were falling apart long before I met Sarah,” Brendon mumbled.
“But then you gave up on fixing us,” Ryan interjected.
“It was about time, wasn’t it?” Brendon pleaded. “Jesus, Ry. I was tired of coming back over and over again just in time for you to fuck up again and then promise it wouldn’t happen again—again!” The room was silent, except for Brendon’s heavy breathing. “I didn’t leave you because I loved her more; I left you because it was easier being with anybody other than you.”
“So that song?” Ryan asked, his voice cracking like a tea cup.
“I meant every word in it,” Brendon answered flatly, though his voice was softer than the stone it had just been. Ryan nodded, the lamp within him flickering until it turned off. “I do love her, Ryan…”
“I know you do,” Ryan replied.
“But it wasn’t the song that I really wanted to write.” Ryan looked up at him, his eyes shining the way they hadn’t in months. Brendon’s mouth was pulled into a small smile. I really wanted to write a song about you, but I couldn’t figure out how to do it without all those girls going nuts.” A strangled laugh escaped his lips. “Besides,” he began again. “‘Ryan Smiles’ doesn’t sound nearly as good.”
Ryan pushed a laugh from his throat. “No… It hasn’t got the same ring to it…”
Brendon smiled down at his hands. His foot began to bounce slowly, covering the silence that fell over them like a blanket slightly.
“Do you want a coke,” he finally asked. “I’m just grabbing one.”
“No… Thanks…” Ryan wondered how many times he had said ‘thank you’ when he had been with Brendon. His heart sank as he realized that he might be able to count the number on his hands.
“You sure?”
“Yeah…”
Brendon stood and swiftly exited to the kitchen. Ryan watched him, his body bouncing up and down like that of a child on the first day of school. Ryan always resented how happily he had been able to move on from the broken moments they had once shared together, how despite all the heartache that Ryan had given him, he still seemed to be living the Disney movies that he watched endlessly even though he had long been too old for them.
“Do you want me to get more weed?” Brendon called from the kitchen. “I’ve got some in my box upstairs.”
“Yes…” Ryan muttered, his voice hardly above a whisper.
“What’s that?” Brendon asked, his head peering through the doorway into the living area.
“Yeah,” Ryan repeated, a newfound huskiness in his voice. “Sounds good…”