Whiskey Lullaby

Rian thinks he fell in love with Alex that very first moment Jack had introduced them, way back in high school. The dorky kid with way too much fringe and even dorkier best friend, the pair of them like long, lanky peas in a pod and even if they didn't know it then, they'd always been destined to be together.

With their friends, band and crew, they don't hide it. Jack in Alex's lap or Alex in Jack's, soft kisses or drunken making out, they are Jalex. No matter how much they despise the nickname. It's a collective decision to keep it from the fans for now, and Rian's happy to protect their secret because he wants only the very best for them, doesn't want them to get hurt.

Rian's never come out and said he might play on both sides of the stage even though he knows no one would blink twice, would probably just start suggesting cute boys for him instead of cute girls, nor the real reason why he couldn't make Cassadee as happy as she deserved to be. She deserves someone who can love her entirely, who isn't caught up in a constant dream of what could be, and Rian isn't that guy.

For the most part, being in love with one of your best friends isn't a huge strain on your relationship with them, or all the people that surround you. It's not like Rian pines after Alex all the time. Just sometimes, when the shows finished, interviews said and done, when Alex is all soft lines and contented smiles he finds that he can't look away. Or at least it used to be.

Lately though, it's been harder to tear his gaze away. His mother often calls, wants to know about his life and he thinks that she'd been hoping he'd find a nice girl and settle down, had been hoping that it was Cassadee, because everything would've looked perfect to her on the outside, Rian knows. His mom loved Cass, always happy to have her stop by during tours, even if Rian was a million miles away.

He can imagine settling down with Alex, in the gorgeous house the other man had bought himself, plenty of room for parties and house guests and maybe another dog, or cat if Rian could persuade him.
White picket fence, maybe even kids if they wanted to.
Lazy patio breakfasts with Alex in his arms.

He's never told anyone, too afraid that it might get back to Alex somehow, either by innocent matchmaking or drunken accident, and Rian doesn't want Alex to even consider the idea, even for a moment. Alex is to Jack as Jack is to Alex, and Rian refuses to stand in the way of something so beautiful.

Often, when it's way past time for him to be asleep, when even Alex has uncurled himself from the back lounge and the warm glow of his laptop, Rian finds them tucked into a single bunk, limbs dangling precariously, blanket thrown on the floor. So he tucks feet and knees and arms back into the tiny space, often nudging one of them awake so they can curl closer together, hold the other so neither of them will fall, and he drapes the blanket over them, makes sure they share it before he climbs into his own bunk, tries to ignore the weight on his heart when he gets a sleepily whispered thank you from Alex.

It starts off innocent, Alex has always been predisposed to using a touch of something alcoholic to calm his nerves before a show, and it's easy for Rian to start doing the same, the two of them clinking beers together in the green room while Zack stretches and Jack sorts M&Ms by colour.

It becomes a ritual almost, a special moment him and Alex share alone. But Alex doesn't drink every show, and Rian finds himself drinking alone while he and Jack invent exercise routines and plot offensive things to say to each other on stage.

Pre-show drinks turn into post show drinks, but Rian never lets himself get drunk. He can't risk it. But the spirits running through his veins dulls the way he feels when he sees Jack pressing Alex into a corner in a bar, or into the side of the bus, or hotel corridors.

He's almost relived when tour ends, because it means a break from being close with Alex constantly, and Rian shuts himself in his apartment and pretends not to exist for a while, six packs neatly lined up in the fridge.

He keeps up with his Twitter, even manages to summon the energy and enthusiasm for a Keek or two, but he stays distant from the guys, pretends to busy when they call, or not feeling well enough to go out.

They're a week into a three week break, ridiculously long by their standards, and Rian finds himself staring blankly into the TV, watching whatever comes to hand, a bottle of whiskey by his side. It's easy to forget your life when you're immersed in other peoples.

By the end of the second week, there's a neat row of bottles lined up by the sink.

He stalks Alex's social media accounts enough to know that he's in LA with Jack at the moment, Instagram photos of them attempting to tan on the beach, and if he listens hard enough he can hear their laughter, the soft timbre of Alex's voice as he tells Jack he loves him, like he does every night before they go to sleep.

If Alex misses him at all, he doesn't show it. In two weeks, he hasn't called or texted once. Not even a tweet.

Zack comes over at some point, and Rian lies about a party that he never had, drinks he never shared and Zack just laughs, reminds him that he's always up for a friendly get-together.

When they meet for tour rehearsal, he's not expecting to step through the door into their rented auditorium and be meet with Alex running towards him, huge smile and happy eyes, pulling him into a hug that doesn't last long enough and the final straw is Alex kissing his cheeks, putting on a ridiculous Italian accent as Jack and Zack and Matt and everyone appears, and Alex slips from his grasp.

Rian's thankful he remembered to brush his teeth.

Hangovers become a regular feature of Rian's mornings then, although he never gets drunk before shows – he owes the band, owes Alex too much to not play as best he can, drum rhythms tight and clean like always. But afterwards, he lets go a little. Shares a few drinks with whoevers drinking that night, and retreats to his bunk to finish the job. He doesn’t tuck them in any more.

Sometimes they argue, like best friends and couples are want to do, and Alex always comes to him, nudges his head under Rian's arm and talks about how he's sorry and he didn't mean to make Jack upset, and Rian always smiles and him and says that Jack will forgive him like always, holds Alex close and tries to brighten his eyes again.

He falters eventually, gets a little carried away before their show in New Jersey, mind too fuzzy by the end of the show to nail the opening beats of Dear Maria, brushes it off as tiredness, maybe he's getting sick. He should stop switching his water with vodka.
Deep down, Rian knows he might have a problem. But when he sees Jack sat in the front lounge, tongue stuck out in concentration as he attempts to get a head start on Alex's latest Lego set to surprise the other man, it seems like the best solution he has right now.

He often wonders why he didn't think of this before, all the wasted years with bright feelings, when it's so easy to numb them, push them to the back of his mind.

Matt confronts him eventually, wondering if things have gotten a little out of hand, a little too much sex, drugs and rock n rock and Rian just smiles softly, agrees that maybe it has. He can keep it to himself.

Recording Full Frontal is a trial, watching the two of them fool around while the whole world listens and only Rian has to suffer through watching, has to be there, and he wishes he had never volunteered to help.

But he can't not, because Alex would be disappointed, worried that Rian thought what they were doing was stupid, and he doesn't want to made Alex doubt himself any more than he already does.

Eventually, Rian gets what he likes to think is really good at pretending to not be drunk. He does interviews, photo shoots, shows, all under a blissful cloud of ignorance, Alex's chocolate eyes that were once so intense just a dull hazel brown.

The thought occurs to him one night, tucked into a hotel room on his own, that he could make it so he never has to think about Alex again. Can stop being in love with him.

It's an awful thought, one that sends him into the bathroom to throw up his latest round, and he feels so fucking guilty, because he knows that it would kill Alex to loose someone like that. Again.

He can remember nights when the news was still fresh, when Alex had screamed and cried for hours, surrounded by all them, and they weren't enough. He knows the hesitant way Alex now approaches life, anxious about getting too close to anyone who might hurt him.

He can remember panic attacks that seemed to last for days, Alex going between him and Jack so the other could get at least a little sleep as they cradled him in their arms, trying to protect him from the demons in his mind.

How could he consider something so terrible? He's living the dream with his best friends, supported by everyone he knows. It's stupid to even think about giving that up for such a insignificant thing like unrequited love.

But it's been ten years, and maybe he's tired of fighting.