FISH WAYURIE

Day Two

Brendon stumbled into the hotel room, carrying two hot cups of coffee.

"Where have you been? I got worried sick when I woke up without you," Ryan said.

"I couldn't have cared less," Spencer said. Jon shrugged indifferently.

"I got you coffee, blind ass- do you need these?" Brendon tugged Spencer's blue light glasses off of his face, poking Ryan in the eye with the end.

"Ow!! Fuck-" Ryan sat down on the bed, a hand over his eye.

"Awe, I'm sorry about that. Will coffee make it better?"

Ryan reaches out and grabs the coffee, completely fucking forgetting about just being stabbed in the eye with glasses.

"So, where were you?" Ryan asks, taking a sip from his coffee.

"Doesn't this say it all? I was out getting you coffee. Can't I do anything nice for you?"

Narrator break. Ryan is a fucking idiot in this story. Alright? Alright. He knows that Brendon lowkey got pissed at him the other day but he like doesn't give a SHIT because he's head over heels. Cool? Cool. Ryan? Obsessed. Hotel? Trivago.

Ryan sighed, taking another sip from his coffee. "I'm sorry, I just got worried. You know?"

"You worry too much," Spencer said, dumping some water onto Ryan's head, who proceeded to remain entirely unphased.

"I know. We need to get headed out to the panel though. I'm sure Gerald is gonna be happy to see you." Ryan's tone was almost bitter.

"His name is Gerard," Brendon corrected Ryan with a hardness to his voice. Ryan rolled his eyes in response.

"Oooh, Urine has a crush-" Spencer started. Brendon dumped his coffee onto Spencer's head and shoved him to the floor, causing the TV to crash to the floor and crush Spencer.

"He does not," Ryan said sternly. "Me and Brendon are- a thing. Him and Gerald go together like tuna fish and jelly."
Brendon struggled to come up with a good way to say both "We do not," and "His name is Gerard", and instead said-

"We are not gerard!"
The room fell silent. Everyone stared at him with a confused look. Jon was the one to break the silence. "We should just go."

The backstage room was quieter than normal, a sick silence between Ryan and Brendon.

"What are we?" Ryan finally asked, his eyes flicking up to meet Brendon's.

"Boyfriends, didn't we establish that yesterday? Y'know, when I got pissed at you for some fucking reason?"
"I guess we did. Nevermind."

"It's a shame your guitar lit on fire," Jon said, flicking his lighter.

"Oh. Was that you?
"Yeah. My bad."

"Oh."

Brendon stifled a laugh and split looks between his bandmates. Them, and his now boyfriend- who he was already lying to. How can he keep this secret?

"Bren? Are you alright?" Ryan asked, the spunk back in his demeanor. Jon suddenly piped up. "We gotta go out. Like, now."

The group walked out to the host's cue, reading off their name as "Anxiety in the Party Place," which warranted another complaint from Spencer and another kick to the shin from Brendon. This time, their panel was taking questions.

Brendon pulled a random question out of the jar, neatly folded and written in impressively average handwriting, an odd and unbalanced mixture of mostly capital letters, with only a few lowercase. 'Who would you each say you're closest to in the band?' The question was left anonymous.

Brendon read the question aloud, tacking on something that nobody else understood. "That's an odd question, Gerard."
Ryan felt his stomach twist into knots. Not only because he had a parfait for breakfast on a mild dairy intolerance. It was stronger than that, it was.. jealousy? That's impossible. Ryan Ross- The Ryan Ross- (trademark that) getting jealous? Unheard of.

The boys all gave their answers, Spencer and Brendon obviously pointing theirs towards Ryan, Jon being the only one unstated. He didn't answer. Nobody even knew who the fuck he was tbh.

Another question rose from the jar, this time pulled for Ryan. 'What is your best skill besides music?' Ryan answered happily with baking, his gaze focused on Gerard, whose eyes seemed to light up from the crowd. He tugged at another guy's arm playfully, stars in his eyes, as if he was completely thrilled to hear Ryan's response. The other, one with a strong face shape, blonde hair, sunglasses, and a tanktop reading "MIKEY FUCKIN WAY" across the chest, almost looked like he'd been dragged there like a mom attending the least-favorite child's less-than-mediocre soccer game.

The group filed backstage yet again, this time, the doors were held open. A group of people wheeled in a cart loaded with snacks, two of the faces clearly recognizable. Gerard, and the boy he was with in the crowd.

"Hey, Brendon! Good to see you again. Ryan, I'm looking forward to your baking," Gerard laughed. Ryan forced a chuckle. Did Brendon promise Gerard cupcakes or something? He shrugged it off, and the others got to introducing themselves. The boy Gerard had been with in the crowd promptly introduced himself as Mikey, which was appropriately labeled on his shirt. Another boy, with longer hair that was tied back in a sort of half-assed ponytail, introduced himself as Frank, and the other one, Ray, for him. There were two more, from another panel that Ryan had seen that day- Patrick Stump and Pete Wentz.

"It's nice to meet you all," Ryan said, forcing a cheery exterior despite being upset by the fact that Brendon and Gerard were already chatting up a storm. They seemed to know each other insanely well, especially for only having met the day before.

And then, Ryan heard it.

"Yeah, last night was a blast with you."

Brendon left last night. To hang out with Gerard. And do what? What could possibly be more important than sleeping- and waking up beside- your own partner?

"Bren, honey, can I talk to you for just a minute?" Ryan bounced on the balls of his feet impatiently. Brendon reluctantly nodded and followed Ryan away from the crowd.

"What's up?"

"What's the deal with you and fucking Gerald?"
"Gerard."
"Whatever. What's up with that?"

"Nothing."

"You're getting terribly defensive."

"I'm telling the truth."

"About where you were last night? I don't think so."

"I was in bed with you all night. I left early to get us coffee."

"That's not what you just fucking said to Gerry!"
"Gerard."

"Whatever!"

Without another word, Brendon stormed away.

That night, the hotel was plagued by a deafening silence. Brendon wasn't there, Ryan wasn't in the mood to chat, and Spencer was passed out. That left only Jon, who was trying to clean up the mess made earlier by the fallen TV.

Ryan noticed something. Brendon had left his jacket in the room. He went and snooped through the pockets, figuring Brendon wouldn't care. And that was when he found it.

A note, neatly folded, in Gerard's handwriting. "225."

So that's where Ryan went. He knocked softly at the door, Mikey answering it. He looked past Mikey, to Brendon and Gerard- kissing.

"I knew it."

Brendon and Gerard both pulled away, freezing at the sight of Ryan standing in the doorway. Brendon's eyes were wide, his body still.

"Ryan, I can explain-"
"Save it." Ryan slammed the door and stormed back down the hallway to his own band's hotel room.

When Brendon walked back in, not five minutes after the event, he saw Ryan sobbing in Spencer's arms.

"There was trust! Him and Gerdey, like- Brendon's the jelly and Geegus is the tuna fish, and I'm the peanut butter!"

"I know, dude. I know," Spencer said, gently shushing Ryan.

Fuck, now Brendon was really in a position to choose.