Holding Our Hearts
1/1
Ryan likes Brendon’s hands. They are warm and soft, unlike his own cold and calloused hands. Brendon’s hands made him feel safe, and needed. Sometimes he’d sit and watch Brendon practise piano just to see his nimble fingers dance knowingly over the keys. Brendon’s hands were comfortable skimming over the porcelain white notes of his mothers’ archaic grand piano, not in Ryan’s hands. Why would they be, anyway? It’s only Ryan. Brendon’s grinning awkwardly. The piano is making a sickening thump-crash-bang sound.
“What?” Ryan looked up, blood rushing to Brendon’s pillowy cheeks.
“Nothing,” he kept smiling. His shoulders hunched forwards, making him appear shorter. His eyes were glowering with pride at startling Ryan.
“Why are you looking at me like that? Is there something on my face?” Ryan began grappling fussily at his mouth, rubbing furiously at invisible smudges.
“There’s nothing on your face, Ry, its perfect,” now it was Ryan’s turn to blush bright red. Brendon took hold of Ryan’s hands and pulled himself into his lap, resting his head on Ryan’s chest. Ryan hoped to God that he couldn’t hear his heart beat. It was almost tearing his chest open.
“I can hear your heart beat,” Ryan shivered. Brendon directed Ryan’s hands, who were still in his own, to his chest. “Can you feel mine?” Ryan smiled. Brendon’s heart could have easily fuelled his own. Ryan likes this feeling.
“Am I making you nervous, Ry?”
“No, am I?”
“No,” he smirked.
“Good,” Ryan’s arms wrapped tighter around Brendon’s middle, making as much of their bodies touch as possible. Brendon was nice and warm.
“Let’s go for a walk, Ry.”
“Where to?” he bit his lip, thinking, just out of habit.
“Anywhere.”
Ryan was dead silent. His silence was something that you just got used to. Brendon was, anyway. “Will you hold my hand?”
“In public?” Brendon’s mood changed almost immediately. He was happy to hold Ryan, or kiss his cheek, or play with his hair, or sleep beside him. But he hated doing anything like that in public.
“It’s okay Bren,” Ryan’s eyes averted to the ground, “Pretend I didn’t ask, I know you don’t like holding my hand.”
Ryan was wrong. Brendon loved holding Ryan’s hand. He loved the way Ryan would sometimes squeeze a little tighter just to check if he was still there. He loved the way Ryan’s fingers felt intertwined in his own.
“It’s not that.”
“What is it then?” Ryan eyes widened.
“It’s everyone else.”
“You’re my friend, Bren,” Ryan reassured, nuzzling Brendon’s hot cheek with his cold nose. “It doesn’t have to be us against the world, you know.”
“I know, I know,” he sighed, realising how stupid he was being.
“Come on, lets go,” Ryan pushed Brendon out of his lap, so he stood, shoulders still hunched, in front of him, “Don’t just stand there, help me up!” he giggled.
Brendon rolled his eyes and once again encompassed Ryan’s hands in his own. When Ryan was at his feet, he didn’t let go.
“I love you, you know, Ry, you’re perfect.”
“I hate it when you say that, you’re putting too much expectation on me” Brendon kissed his cheek, lingering for longer than he probably should have. Ryan blushed again.
“You know Bren; I really love your hands.”
“I know, Ryan,” Brendon squeezed their palms closer together; “Do you want me to hold your hand when we go for a walk?” Ryan smiled, like he always did when Brendon made him feel good, and looked him straight in the eye.
“Sure, Bren, why not.”
“What?” Ryan looked up, blood rushing to Brendon’s pillowy cheeks.
“Nothing,” he kept smiling. His shoulders hunched forwards, making him appear shorter. His eyes were glowering with pride at startling Ryan.
“Why are you looking at me like that? Is there something on my face?” Ryan began grappling fussily at his mouth, rubbing furiously at invisible smudges.
“There’s nothing on your face, Ry, its perfect,” now it was Ryan’s turn to blush bright red. Brendon took hold of Ryan’s hands and pulled himself into his lap, resting his head on Ryan’s chest. Ryan hoped to God that he couldn’t hear his heart beat. It was almost tearing his chest open.
“I can hear your heart beat,” Ryan shivered. Brendon directed Ryan’s hands, who were still in his own, to his chest. “Can you feel mine?” Ryan smiled. Brendon’s heart could have easily fuelled his own. Ryan likes this feeling.
“Am I making you nervous, Ry?”
“No, am I?”
“No,” he smirked.
“Good,” Ryan’s arms wrapped tighter around Brendon’s middle, making as much of their bodies touch as possible. Brendon was nice and warm.
“Let’s go for a walk, Ry.”
“Where to?” he bit his lip, thinking, just out of habit.
“Anywhere.”
Ryan was dead silent. His silence was something that you just got used to. Brendon was, anyway. “Will you hold my hand?”
“In public?” Brendon’s mood changed almost immediately. He was happy to hold Ryan, or kiss his cheek, or play with his hair, or sleep beside him. But he hated doing anything like that in public.
“It’s okay Bren,” Ryan’s eyes averted to the ground, “Pretend I didn’t ask, I know you don’t like holding my hand.”
Ryan was wrong. Brendon loved holding Ryan’s hand. He loved the way Ryan would sometimes squeeze a little tighter just to check if he was still there. He loved the way Ryan’s fingers felt intertwined in his own.
“It’s not that.”
“What is it then?” Ryan eyes widened.
“It’s everyone else.”
“You’re my friend, Bren,” Ryan reassured, nuzzling Brendon’s hot cheek with his cold nose. “It doesn’t have to be us against the world, you know.”
“I know, I know,” he sighed, realising how stupid he was being.
“Come on, lets go,” Ryan pushed Brendon out of his lap, so he stood, shoulders still hunched, in front of him, “Don’t just stand there, help me up!” he giggled.
Brendon rolled his eyes and once again encompassed Ryan’s hands in his own. When Ryan was at his feet, he didn’t let go.
“I love you, you know, Ry, you’re perfect.”
“I hate it when you say that, you’re putting too much expectation on me” Brendon kissed his cheek, lingering for longer than he probably should have. Ryan blushed again.
“You know Bren; I really love your hands.”
“I know, Ryan,” Brendon squeezed their palms closer together; “Do you want me to hold your hand when we go for a walk?” Ryan smiled, like he always did when Brendon made him feel good, and looked him straight in the eye.
“Sure, Bren, why not.”