Flexible--Rydon--16"Wanna hang out after practice today?" a cool voice asks and Brendon, fiddling with the reverb on his amp, glances up briefly, glances again, and freezes, stunned.
"W-what?" he stammers, feeling awkwardly bent over the amp but also feeling too scared to move.
The other boy sighs and brushes a strand of hair out of his face. " I asked if you wanted to hang out," he says in a bored voice, staring unabashedly at the round ass in front of him.
"S-sure," Brendon says and quickly stands up, as if he can feel the other's eyes on his rear-end. "Today?"
"That is what I said. Yes?"
"Good," the boy says shortly. "So it's settled."
I guess Brendon thinks doubtfully and it isn't until later, when they're sitting in a little booth at Starbucks that he realizes just what has happened. Holy shit! he thinks, grasping his cup of hot chocolate and staring at the boy across from him. I'm on a date with Ryan Ross!
Well, he concedes after a moments thought. <
Flexible--Rydon--PREVIEWJon bursts out laughing as the two boys shift uncomfortably. "I knew it!" he exclaims triumphantly. "I knew you guys were dating or fucking or something. I thought there was some sort of band secret you weren't letting me in on."
A light blush dusts Ryan's cheeks as he side-steps the laughing boy, through the doorway and into the hallway. "Fuck off, Walker," he says with a strained laugh as Brendon follows him out of the janitor's closet.
"How'd it happen?" Jon asks, completely ignoring the obvious plea for privacy. "Like, did you come first? Or the band? Is it weird dating, or fucking, or whatever, your band-mate? What was your first kiss like?"
Brendon laughs, a real laugh, and glances shyly at Ryan from under dark lashes. "Honestly?" he says. "It tasted like pot. Ry was all stoned and horny and"
"Bren!" Ryan whines, flushing. "We are not telling that story!"
"Aw, come on. Do tell," Jon begs Brendon.
Ryan's staring, horrified, at Brendon as he opens his mouth, lip
Flexible--Rydon--15Spencer is sitting at his drum kit, as always, while the other three boys are crammed together on the couch. Brendon's made certain to put Brent between him and Ryan and the bassist doesn't look exactly thrilled at being forced to sit in the middle. And Ryan? He's just sitting there, eyes glazed over as he delves into his own mind, searching for the right words, the right flow.
"Is he" Brendon begins but is quickly cut off by Spencer
Shushed, Brendon hunches his shoulders and stares down at the old carpet until his eyes are, once again, drawn back to the brooding artist to his right. He wonders where Ryan is, recognizing the fact that the lyricist is worlds away, since he obviously isn't here and if the angels whisper in his ear. What do you think they're telling him? Brendon asks himself.
But there are no angels in Ryan's mind. Only Trevor and dark world he's built himself for the past ten years. Do you think Camisado is too personal? he asks.
No, Trevor replies as
Flexible--Rydon--14Farther, Trevor whispers in Ryan's head as the slender boy presses his feet over his back, toes brushing the back of his head. You're not far enough.
"I'm trying!" Ryan snaps back, eyes half glassy with pain as he pushes his thighs higher off the ground.
Don't talk back to me! Trevor snarls and a flash of angry red imprints into Ryan's mind's eye. You're. Not. Good. Enough. You have to stretch farther, and then I'll help you finish the song. Tears spring from Ryan's eyes, liquid salt rolling down his cheeks. Look at you, Trevor growls. Crying like a girl. So weak.
Ryan bites his tongue to keep from screaming as he slams his feet into his skull, perfectly in time with Trevor's low chanting
Far-ther. Far-ther. Far-ther. So. Weak. Far-ther. Far-ther. Far-ther. So. God. Damn. Weak.
"I can't!" Far-ther. "I can't!" Far-ther. "I can't!" So. Weak. "Stop!" Far-ther. "Please!" So. Weak.