Ryan has never been more terrified in his life.
He's pushing through a bar full of strangers, who are all giving him really weird looks, and here he is, on some kind of insane rescue mission that he hasn't a hope of succeeding with. He'd seen the look in that muscular man's eyes when he'd looked at Brendon; he'd seemed feral, vicious and almost hungry.
But Brendon had gone with him, willingly, to put more poison into his bloodstream. Evidently he doesn't need saving, especially not by Ryan. If he needed it, surely Jon would have gone to his rescue, at once? He's being a fool, following after somebody who doesn't want or need him to.
He pushes his way through the door to the street outside, and stumbles out, into the cold. It's quiet out here and he shivers, looking up towards the sky, where the stars have all come out to watch his useless quest. He sighs, heavily, and draws his jacket tighter around himself.
"Brendon ..." he whispers, helplessly, shifting his weight from foot to foot. "Brendon, where are y-you?"
As though some higher power has heard his question, he suddenly hears the sounds of a scuffle in a nearby alley. Ryan freezes. He has two choices. He can go and see if it's Brendon and risk bumping into a fight that he could get caught up in. He could walk back into the bar and forget his stupidity.
He hesitates for only a moment before taking a deep breath and heading determinedly over the alley. The walk seems to take an eternity and he begins to wonder just when he got so brave. He doesn't feel brave, but here he is, walking into a stupidly dangerous situation, all for the sake of helping some boy.
No, not some boy. Brendon. Brendon.
Upon reaching the alley, he looks around the corner of it cautiously - prepared to run if needed - and he feels as though he's been stabbed, swiftly and sharply, in the heart. Brendon, Brendon and that large man, against the wall. The man holding Brendon's hair tightly and twisting his neck back. The man hurting Brendon.
Before he knows what he's doing, Ryan is stepping up to the pair, and shoving the man as hard as he can. His strength is surprising; the man stumbles backwards, looking momentarily scared, and he releases Brendon. Then, his eyes fall upon Ryan as he steadies, and his expression of fear turns instantly to one of murder. Brendon lets out a horrified noise.
"Um, Ryan," he says, at once and quickly, "Ryan, you need to get back to --"
"What the fuck was that for?" the man asks, straightening slowly. He walks up to Ryan, and glares down at him, his fingers curling into fists. Ryan stumbles backwards, terrified, his breath catching painfully in his throat. The man grabs the front of Ryan's shirt and pulls him close, almost lifting him off the floor. "Tell me, kid, why the fuck you thought that would be a good idea?"
"I - I d-didn't - I just --"
"R, please put him down," Brendon begs, suddenly, and he appears at their side. He looks petrified and desperate, and close to tears. "He didn't mean it. He thought you were attacking me, he doesn't know about us."
Us? Ryan's mind repeats the word, and he begins to feel sick. Us. They're dating? Fucking? Friends? But the man - R - he'd been hurting Brendon, Ryan had seen that with his own eyes.
"I don't give a fuck," R snarls, releasing Ryan with one hand, and drawing it back into a fist. "Nobody can get away with shoving me."
"P-please don't --"
"R, let him the fuck down, or I'm never coming to see you again," Brendon snaps, sharply and loudly, all of the childish innocence having faded from his voice. In surprise, it seems, Ryan is released, and he quickly takes a few steps backwards from harm's way.
R turns to Brendon, expression absolutely livid. Without hesitation, he punches the boy, straight in the jaw, and Brendon lets out a cry and falls back against the wall. The man stands over him, chest heaving and eyes narrow. "Don't you ever speak like that to me, again, you little slut."
Brendon clambers to his feet, his lip having split, and shakes the hair from his eyes. He stares up at the glaring man, body trembling a little, before his gaze moves to Ryan. Ryan feels a sting somewhere deep inside as their eyes meet, that little pang of something indescribable.
"Brendon," he whispers, as though R is no longer between them, "you're b-bleeding."
Ryan leans over and brushes a drop of blood away with a shaking hand, and as he pulls back, Brendon catches his hand, entwining their fingers. Ryan's eyes widen but he doesn't break their grip, instead squeezing Brendon's hand, softly. Brendon stares at him, and then blinks, as though some sort of spell has been broken.
"I'll be right back, R," he mutters, and though R looks as though he's about to argue, Brendon merely leaves, tugging Ryan along with him. Ryan stumbles after him, his heart racing, and he can't believe what he's done and what he's made Brendon do, and he begins to wonder why. Why does he feel so much, so soon, for somebody so desperately dangerous?
He tugs him back into the bar, but just before they return to the table, Brendon is pinning him against the wall and staring into his eyes. "That was stupid," he informs him, in a low, slightly scared voice. "That was - that was so stupid, Ryan. You could have been killed."
"But he w-was hurting you," Ryan murmurs, ashamed.
Brendon's expression softens and, despite his injuries, he smiles, his eyes glittering. Slowly, he leans forward, nuzzling his nose into Ryan's cheek and whispering, "Thank you, Ryan. My hero."
"I - I --"
"Come on, let's get you back to Spencer," Brendon whispers, pulling back, and still smiling softly. "You should go home and just forget about what you saw, okay?"
Ryan nods, agreeing for the sake of agreeing with Brendon, and then he's being pulled through the crowds. Brendon's fingers are warm and protective over his, and he can't fight the smile that blossoms over his lips, despite the heartache and the menace of the man outside.
