Title: That all Depends
Author: coldmero 
Rating: PG-13 (language, gay)
Pairing: Ryan/Brendon (Brendon/Ryan)
Summary: Ryan feels like poop about leaving. He’s worried about Brendon. He’s worried about himself.
Disclaimer: Not real (although I’ll assume something similar to this happened/is happening…)
Beta: isuzuchan44 
Author Notes: This is pretty full of rambling. I think that this is kind of how all of the boys are thinking right now, so it’s written like this on purpose. It feels a little choppy… Not the best thing I’ve written, I’m not sure how I like the outcome… enjoy? Critique/comments are cool.
Wordcount: 3,029


Ryan’s feeling horrible. He’s excited to do things with Jon, he can’t wait to see what Brendon and Spencer can do without him bossing them around, but…

Sun beams in the window at Ryan’s face to insult him. He doesn’t mind too much, as he kind of wants something like this to mock him. He knows that no one (in the band, at least) is mad at him or Jon, and that they all understand, but he feels once again as if Brendon is sacrificing himself. He seemed so alright about the break-up and held it together whenever they discussed it.

There were a few times, however, where Brendon would go into his recording room alone for a while, and Spencer would follow him in a little while later. They’d come back out not long after, and Brendon would be hiding his face and Spencer would have his arm around Brendon’s shoulders. He would give Ryan a weak “it’s okay” smile, and they would leave.

After those times, Ryan would go into Brendon’s recording room and sit on the chair in there. And he’d think, and he’d cry, and he’d think about how much he was going to miss Brendon and Spencer. He always felt so bad, though… like he was holding them back, like he was being his father towards them. They are his two best friends, and he feels like he’s ruining them. He doesn’t want them to go through that anymore, and he also wants to experiment with music styles. So breaking up makes sense.

Especially when the sun is so fucking bright in Ryan’s eyes. It’s like the world agrees with his decision.

Thinking about this is getting him no where.

---

So that evening Ryan goes where he usually goes when he’s upset. He stumbles on one of the loose pavers- Brendon was always telling him to watch out for it, and thinking about that right now only makes Ryan want to somehow punch himself in the stomach.

He walks to the entrance with its large, ornate gates. Like something you would see in a movie or some gothic band’s lyric booklet. He shuffles along the pathway and is relieved when the trees overhead make it darker. He doesn’t want today to look so nice outside. The gold of the sun halfway to setting makes everything look so surreal, so pretty. When the day met the night.

But then Ryan freezes; he feels his breath hitch. Ahead of him on the swing set is a small boy (small man?) with brown hair, a tight hoodie, and tight jeans. Ryan thinks he should turn around, Oh God, he should just turn around and go home, he feels sick to his stomach, now.

He takes a step and stumbles on a rock in the pathway, falling to his knees because of his lack of attention.

The boy on the swing turns his head. He knew it was Brendon.

“You alright?” he calls, a little suspiciously.

“Uh yeah, I’m fine.” Ryan’s voice sounds weird to him. Hollow, nervous. He realizes with a sound from his throat when he tries to get up, that he’s not okay. He did something to his ankle. Shit. He knows that if Brendon finds out it’s him and finds out he’s hurt, he’ll take him home, he’ll be so fucking nice, like he always is, it’ll make Ryan cry, and he doesn’t want to do that in front of Brendon.

The noise Ryan made, however, makes Brendon get off of the swing and start walking over. Ryan ducks his head and hopes Brendon doesn’t know it’s him. How could he not?

“Hey, you sure you’re alright?”

“Y-yes Brendon… I’m okay. A little.” He knows it won’t work. Ryan lifts his head and smiles weakly. Brendon’s eyes bulge a little (it’s no big deal, not more than when he’s normally surprised, right?).

Since Brendon doesn’t say anything (Oh God why won’t he fill the silence right now, please?), Ryan does. He usually doesn’t.

“I, uh, came to the park to you know, calm down, and I didn’t know you would be here, and I didn’t know there’d be a stupid freaking rock in my way, and I didn’t want to trip and make you worried and come over here, and I didn’t want to make you sad and I’m sorry.” He knows how much he just rambled, but how can he not? He feels so damn guilty.

“Oh, it’s alright Ryan.” Brendon offers a weak smile. A heart-breaking smile, as if this wasn’t already hard enough. He slings his arm around Ryan’s waist and helps him walk to a swing.

Brendon sets him down and sits on the swing next to him.

“You wanna talk, or…?” Brendon asks.

“I dunno. I’m sorry, Brendon. I really am, but in addition to wanting to experiment… I want to let you go. I’m holding you back so much, and you sure as hell don’t need me. You’ll be fine without me.” Ryan plays with his hurt ankle.

“What if I fucking died tomorrow? Would you think I was fine without you then? What would you do?” It’s so rapid; Ryan hardly even absorbs the fact that Brendon has grabbed his shoulders.

Ryan is surprised- this is one of the things he really didn’t want to happen. Brendon freaking out like this is just going to make him feel worse. Brendon never gets this upset, Brendon never freaks out at him. He doesn’t know what to say.

“What would you do, Ryan?” It takes a minute for Ryan to notice in the dimming light, but there are shining trails down Brendon’s cheeks. There are down his, too. Brendon’s grip eases a little on Ryan’s shoulders.

“Brendon, I don’t know what I would do. And that’s not what I meant. I mean, you don’t need me for music. Especially with how cruel I am to you sometimes… I act like I don’t respect your opinion. I don’t even know what I would do if you stopped singing. You have the most beautiful voice,” Ryan says quietly, thinking it may be rude to raise his voice like Brendon is. Brendon deserves to, anyway.

“I-I’m not really mad at you for leaving. I mean, I understand that we’re still kids and you need to get out and shine, but.” He doesn’t seem to finish his thought, but his hands drop to his sides and his chest rises and falls in a few dry sobs. His swing twirls back forward.

“Brendon, I’m not leaving because of you. I love you, you know I love you. I love Panic at the Disco, I love Spencer, I love Jon, I love Brent, I love Eric, I love Zack, I love you.”

“I know you’re not leaving because of me. And I know you love me, but you aren’t the greatest at showing it. I-I mean, I’m not yelling at you, I’m, I’m just sad, and I feel so lonely, and I just,” Brendon mumbles. It’s killing Ryan to see him like this, Brendon is always happy, he’s always all over Ryan, he’s always… Well no. No, he’s clearly not always happy.

With weak arms and weak legs, Ryan twists his swing to the side and slowly puts his hands on Brendon’s shoulders, burying his face into his neck.

“I always wanted to kiss you back, on stage whenever you kissed my neck or my cheek. I always wanted to hold your hand in public like, always,” Ryan mumbles, muffled by Brendon’s neck.

“I always wanted you to, too.” They sit there for a moment, the Sun lowering more, and Ryan thinks he’s got some mulch in his boot. How did that even happen?

“You know, Brendon… I think the break-up is the best for all of us. I mean, you don’t deserve to be bossed around by me, and I really want to see you doing some more stuff like from A Fever. And I think I hold you back from that style. I know it’s no excuse, and I know you don’t need me to give one because you understand, but still.” Ryan’s hands are still on Brendon’s shoulders, but now they’re looking each other in the eye.

“I-I know. Ryan, I think I should go now. Do you need help home? I’ll take you…” Ryan flinches as Brendon stands up abruptly.

“No, it’s alright. I’ll… is it okay if I call you sometime soon?” After a moment’s hesitation, Brendon bends down and kisses Ryan’s forehead.

“It’s okay, yes,” he whispers in his ear. Before he turns around to walk away, Ryan sees his horribly sad face. Ryan watches Brendon leave. Every few paces he brings his hand to his face- it must be to capture tears. Dammit.

---

Ryan sighs as he opens the door to his apartment. He totally did not just hobble twelve blocks back home when he could have gotten a cab. The dull pain in his ankle is comforting, though.

Dropping his keys on the counter he shuts the door behind him. He lays down on the couch and presses play to whatever movie is currently in the DVD player. It’s just some action movie, and he finds himself able to fall asleep pretty easily.

---

Ryan wakes up, feeling ridiculously groggy. It’s four in the morning, but he fell asleep around eight, so whatever, he’ll get up now. He almost asks the empty apartment ‘Brendon, do you have a Red Bull?’ That makes him frown- he hopes that they’re okay. But hey, his ankle feels better.

He stumbles to the kitchen and doesn’t want to make a pot of coffee, so he does his semi-usual routine of digging out instant cappuccino and instant hot cocoa for a makeshift mocha. Putting the mug with water in the microwave, he punches in two minutes (he wants it to be hot enough to burn his entire tongue). He opens a cocoa pouch and takes the lid off of the cappuccino mix.

The two minutes are agonizingly long. Ryan keeps thinking about how tired he is, and how fucking sad Brendon looked last evening. He thinks he had a dream about it, too.

When the microwave finally beeps, Ryan fumbles to open it and scoops a large tablespoon of cocoa mix into the mug, followed by the same for the cappuccino. He stirs it together and the smell reaches his nose along with some of the drink’s heat. It’s comforting.

Ryan slowly takes the mug to the couch (the television is still on the DVD display screen). He takes a small sip, but when the drink reaches his tongue, he stops himself from drinking more. So much for wanting to burn his whole mouth.

He sets down the mug and lets his head roll back, bracing for another long day.

---

He feels nervous, dialing Brendon’s number. The sun is already setting. Ryan sure knows how to stall, even with the tight knot that’s been in his stomach all day. He hits the end call button halfway through dialing the digits. Just a few more minutes.

He slides his sidekick open and posts another meaningless tweet, something with song lyrics, like what Jon has been doing.

There’s not much to keep him from calling, now. But maybe he won’t call Brendon tonight… So he ends up calling Pete.

“Ryan? How are you, you feeling okay? I’ve been getting ratted on all day today, yesterday… you holding up?” Ryan doesn’t entirely understand why everyone calls Pete a douche. He does a lot of stupid things, he’s a little ridiculous and a little bossy, but… he holds things together.

“I’m-I’m okay.” Ryan lets out a deep sigh.

“Just want to hear my voice?” Pete replies, and Ryan can tell he’s smiling.

“A little, yeah. Have you talked to anyone else…?”

“By anyone else, I’ll assume you mean Brendon. Yes, he called me earlier. He asked if I had talked to you- if you sounded okay. I’ve talked to Spencer, too, and he seems alright.”

“Ah yeah, I talked to Jon for a few minutes today, he was just asking about something stupid, I don’t even remember. But I think he just wanted to see if I was alright too… What did you and Brendon talk about other than me?” Ryan hesitates in saying the last part.

“Not much, really. Just about how he was doing, how I was doing, how Patrick was doing.” Ryan’s stomach drops again; he and Jon have caused a lot of trouble. “But you know, Ryan, you’re not off the hook from Brendon or me. He told me you asked if you could call him, and I’m sure you haven’t yet.  Why don’t you do that instead of talk to me, baby? You know I’ll be okay. Brendon needs you and you need him.” Ryan opens his mouth and closes it.

“Alright, Pete. I will. Thanks.”

“Mm hmmm,” Pete says, hanging up. So that means Ryan has to call Brendon now. He has to call him tonight… it’s getting late though, maybe he should wait until morning.

His phone makes a noise and Ryan looks at it. He opens the text he received.

“& u bettr fucking call him 2nite – Pete”

---

So he dials Brendon’s number again and hits call this time. His hands feel clammy, writhing in his lap, his head cocked to hold the phone in place.

“Hey Ryan,” he says picking up after two or three rings. He may have been waiting.

“H-hi Brendon. I’m sorry it took so long to call, I’m just a little…” Ryan pauses.

“Scared?” Brendon says evenly.

“Yeah. Scared works. I just… shit. Jon and I have caused so much trouble. Pete’s freaking out, fans are freaking out, I’m freaking out.”

“I’m freaking out a little, too.”

“Thanks.” Neither of them talk for a minute. “So uh, Brendon… I really want to keep in touch. I really want to collaborate. Why am I leaving?”

“You’re leaving because you have to. We will keep in touch, I could never leave you alone. And you bet your ass we’re going to collaborate. I’m not going to be able to stand a Panic without you very well, you know.”

“Brendon, do you want to go out tonight? I know it’s starting to get a little later, but do you want to go out? Just us, or hell, we could invite other people if you want…”

“You still have a while before you and Jon are leaving, right? And you can always come and visit, right?” Ryan’s stomach falls. It’s been doing a whole lot of that since yesterday.

“Y-yeah… I mean, we can go out some other time if you want. Sorry if you’re busy.”

“That’s not what I mean! I want to go out tonight! I just was making sure that we’d always go out, sorry.” Oh.

“O-oh. Sorry I jumped to conclusions,” Ryan says quietly, adding a small laugh.

“So babe, when are you picking me up and where are we going?” Ryan grins.

---

Ryan fidgets with his vest. It’s new and he’s not sure how it looks- it’s got birds all over it and he’s wearing a ruffled Victorian shirt underneath. His makeup is green and blue- he actually decided to go all out like he used to. Perching a hat on his head and straightening his pants, Ryan picks up his keys and shuts the door behind him.

---

Ryan knocks on the door, feeling better since the car ride over. Brendon opens the door, smiling. He’s also got his share of makeup on, but he’s in his normal hoodie and tight jeans. It feels nice to see him like this.

“Come in for a minute.” Ryan obliges and walks into the familiar apartment, smelling Red Bull and makeup and Brendon. After shutting the door, Brendon wraps his arms around Ryan’s neck in a hug.

Ryan sighs into Brendon’s hair and winds his arms around his waist.

“I missed you, Brendon.” Brendon eases his grip on Ryan and pushes their lips together. Ryan takes one of his hands and pets Brendon’s hair, feeling their bodies ease together.

“You too,” Brendon whispers. Ryan presses another kiss to Brendon’s lips before he lets go.

“Let’s get out, now.” Brendon smiles sheepishly as he takes Ryan’s hand.

---

They end up going to a bar that they’ve never been to. Ryan isn’t drinking much now, though he’d already downed two shots and his body doesn’t take liquor well. He can feel a familiar sting behind his eyes, thinking about the fact that the band is parting ways.

Because he can’t think of much to say, Ryan just looks at Brendon, his gaze pleading. His eyes are tearing up and Oh God why did he put on so much makeup?

Brendon, in turn, takes a napkin and blots the bottom of Ryan’s eyes.

“Stop being so worried, Ryan. We’ll reinvent love. Isn’t that what you want us to do?” Brendon smiles, honestly. He’s alright with everything now, well, as alright as he’ll ever be. Ryan thinks he still needs to accept it.

“Yeah Brendon. We will, we are.” Ryan keeps his mouth open, about to ask a question, but it stays open and no sound comes out.

“You want to say something?”

“Will you sing for me?” Ryan feels the sting of tears behind his eyes.

“I’m not complaining,” first Ryan thinks he’s talking. His mouth opens to make another apology, but Brendon only smiles and folds Ryan into his arms.

“That it’s raining. I’m just saying that I’d like it a lot more than you think; if the Sun would come out and sing with me.” His voice somehow overcomes all of the clatter and background music in the bar.

“You remind me of a few of my famous friends,” Ryan continues, feeling himself crying a little more.

“Well that all depends, what you qualify as friends,” Brendon finishes, kissing Ryan’s hair.

And as Ryan pinches the fabric of Brendon’s clothes in between his fingers, he thinks that Brendon is definitely within the qualification of being his friend.

“You remind me of a few of my famous friends…”

end