For Brendon.

“Believe me yet?” Pete asks.

Ryan nods his head no because he doesn’t need this. He doesn’t want these flashbacks because that’s the life he’s never getting back. That life’s the past. Brendon’s the past. Ryan stands up abruptly, his hands shaking.

“I can’t do this,” he says, his voice barely above a whisper.

Pete taps his pen on the table. “It’s not for some people.” Ryan turns and reaches for the door when Pete adds, “He says he misses you.”

Ryan’s eyes are wide as he snaps his head back to Pete. “Misses me. Are you fucking kidding?”

Pete holds his hands up in defense. “He just wanted me to tell you.”

-

“Ryan,” Brendon breathed through the phone.

“Yeah,” Ryan replied. “I’m still here, Bren.”

“I miss you,” Brendon said softly. Then after a moment he took a deep breath. “Sing for me?”

-

“Yeah, and what else does he want to say, huh? That he regrets going on that business trip, even after I told him he shouldn’t go because he wasn’t his best? Does he regret that?” Ryan’s blinking tears away, but his voice is still sharp. “Because I regret all of that, I hope he knows. Him taking that job was my fault to begin with.”

“Maybe not,” Pete offers, but Pete doesn’t have a clue what Ryan’s talking about because Brendon’s not saying anything.

“Oh fuck off,” Ryan says. “He even said that job was my fault.”

-

"What are you talking about?" Brendon asked, and turned around with wide eyes. He stared at Ryan in shock, his work tie hung loosely off his neck.

"Forget I said anything," Ryan mumbled, and turned to make a cup of coffee.

"No, no. Ryan what did you say?" Brendon pushed. "What is it?"

"It's nothing, okay. Forget I brought it up," Ryan said, and avoided Brendon’s eyes by grabbing a mug out of the cupboard.

"No," Brendon said in a whisper. "You-you don't trust me."

"I've never said that.”

"You don't have to say it!" Brendon yelled. "You implied it."

"Brendon, don't-" Ryan began, and turned to look at him

"No! Ryan," Brendon's voice cracked. "I gave everything up for you! If this is about the job-"

"It's not about the job!"

"No, no. I'll go get you my time card to show you I never lied, I was always at work! The job I got for you-"

"Bren-"

"The job I got for you, so you could stay home and be a freelance writer, so you could quit your coffee shop job."

"Brendon, I didn't ask for you-"

"You didn't have to!" Brendon cried. "Everything said aloud isn’t all that counts. It's what you don't say, Ryan. Do you realize all I gave up for you? I dropped out of college. I moved in with you. My parents still won't talk to me! I'm doing everything I can, and-and y-you don't trust me?"

"Don't cry!" Ryan said, reaching out.

"Don't," Brendon snapped. "Don't."

“Brendon, I didn’t mean it like that!” Ryan said.

Brendon shook his head. “Of course you didn’t, Ry. You never mean anything, do you?”

Ryan didn’t answer because he didn’t know what to say. What was he supposed to say? He had every right to be suspicious of Brendon staying late at work. Especially since two weeks before Brendon had been going on about his new co-worker Dallon.

Brendon stormed out of their tiny kitchen and slammed their bedroom door shut. When he came out a couple minutes later he had his backpack stuffed and slung over his shoulder.

“Brendon, what are you-what are-where are you going?” Ryan asked, voice trembling.

Brendon rolled his eyes. “You wouldn’t trust me even if I told you.”

When the front door slammed Ryan dropped the coffee mug in his hands, and watched it shatter into tiny pieces on the floor. He fell to his knees and then laid down in the mess, and let the tears pool to the floor as the ceramic chips cut his clothes and skin.