Ryden Smut

Like A Rainbow

Like A Rainbow by @ at_the_c_side on LiveJournal
http://at-the-c-side.livejournal.com/8946.html

It's a Saturday morning, one where the sun is watery but defiantly surfacing, and Ryan has a lot of things to be doing. The list is endless. He has to buy groceries, he has to write new lyrics, he has to go meet Spencer at some point. One of the things he didn't foresee doing this morning, however, is standing outside his own bathroom door, forehead leaning against the surface, trying to persuade Brendon to unlock it and let him in. The steaming mug of wake-up hot chocolate he made for him (he won't drink tea or coffee, they're apparently not sugary enough) is still un-drunk and neglected in his hand.

"Brendon?"

"Leave me alone."

"Brendon."

"Go away," the boy on the other side sniffles feebly.

"I-- what? No. It's my bathroom, jackass."

"I know, just. Please, Ry."

Ryan closes his eyes, sighs and knocks his forehead softly against the door. "Not until you tell me what's wrong."

Brendon's being acting strangely for a couple of months now, and Ryan can't put his finger on it. He feels bad, feels like he should be able to, they've been together for so long now that he can read every other tiny thing about him, but he keeps shutting Ryan out, clamming up. He doesn't seem as confident as he usually innately is, and Ryan hates it, hates not being able to just fix it. Because he knows he could if he was given the chance, but Brendon's not giving him anything, that much is evident from the silence he's listening in to right now.

He's dressed already, his car keys are on the counter in the kitchen. He could leave right now and get on with his day, but instead he stays at the door and tries, "Bren?"

When he replies, his voice is still muffled but closer, so Ryan can hear it more clearly. "You're gonna laugh at me."

Shaking his head vigorously even though Brendon can't see it, he says, "don't be dumb, no I won't. You know I won't."

There's a long pause, and Ryan thinks he can hear Brendon's breathing through the thin door, in perfect time with his, but he could be wrong. Then he hears the lock clunking into a new position and he doesn't really care. The door swings slowly open and there's Brendon, standing in only the bright blue boxers he slept in and self-consciously patting down his rumpled bed-hair. There are little tear-tracks down his face, glistening in the artificial light, and his eyes are shining as he focuses them somewhere on Ryan's chest, doesn't meet his eyes. He's holding on to the door so tightly his knuckles turn white.

Immediately, Ryan feels the breath rush out of him at the sight; he looks so uncharacteristically small and vulnerable, nothing like the boy he's always known at all. The mental to-do list in Ryan's cluttered mind is all of a sudden scrapped, torn up into a million Brendon-shaped pieces. In one swift movement, he steps in towards him, sets the mug clumsily down beside the sink and pulls him into a tight hug, burying his nose in his messy hair. Brendon lets himself be held, but Ryan can feel how stiff and unsure he is. "What is it, B?" he asks, soft and unimposing.

Brendon wriggles a bit and Ryan lets go of him, but his eyes keep a firm hold, watching him as he takes a few small steps back and shrugs. He's level with the mirror now, the full-length one Ryan bought ages ago on a whim. "I was just," he says in a mumble, letting out a shaky breath and gesturing to the reflection beside him. "Just looking, you know?"