• \\ Ryden oneshots // •

My rose-colored boy

Point of view: 3rd person
Words: 5k

you deserve someone who looks at you at your mid-laugh and feels like the luckiest person on earth

—

Brendon hadn't noticed the pattern he had been following over the last couple of days, not until his parents questioned him about it. He failed to give them a believable response, when he didn't particularly have one in the first place. Again, he was painfully unaware.

Practically there was no real reason for him to wake up at an ungodly hour every morning, taking a little more time than necessary dressing up in nice clothes, doing his hair, and then driving to college when god knows his earliest class doesn't start until 9 am. Still, he managed to walk on campus, breathing the chill breeze of the morning that hasn't fully bloomed yet.

His feet drag him automatically to the nearest cafeteria, just beside the building where most of his classes take place. Casually sitting on the exact same, uncomfortable bench he had sat the day before, and waits. Pulling out his laptop to work on an essay he had left undone the night before, with the excuse he would go to sleep at a decent hour, a win in his opinion, only to wake up earlier the next morning and finish it on campus.

Minutes later, Brendon frowns when his phone screen lights up with an upcoming text, briefly forgetting he had in fact, turned off the not disturbing mode right before leaving his house, expecting a response to his latest message. The frown that had taken over his face, quickly turns into a gentle smile after a promise of 'I'll be there soon.'

That's when Brendon recalls his parents' previous questioning, he clearly had been following a new routine. One that involved getting earlier to campus so he could spend extra time with his friends, since they couldn't really see each other with their messed up schedules —who would think they wouldn't be spending all the time together when they share majors. Although, most of the time, if not all the time, it happened that just one of them followed Brendon's idea of hanging out before their classes, usually meeting for breakfast. And he would be blatantly lying if he said he didn't enjoy spending time with him.

At some point he pulls out his earbuds also, playing the same playlist from the day before. Which might just be the one he recommended Brendon to listen to, after a desperate call of needing new music when his own playlist didn't fit his ongoing mood. Brendon was just so glad his friend happened to have a wonderful music taste that matched his weird tendencies.

When Brendon notices a figure walking towards him in his peripheral vision, he forces his eyes to stay in place on the laptop screen. Over analyzing possible grammatical errors in the essay, which they weren't any after checking that many times. Hands typing unnecessary words that would definitely be erased later. Anything really, all that effort to make it look effortless.

"Hey, Bren." And how badly Brendon wishes he wouldn't shorten his name, wouldn't give him nicknames, it played tricks on his mind.

"Hi there." Brendon replies easily, now allowing himself to look up to where the voice had come from, finding Ryan had already made himself comfortable in the bench in front of him, or as comfortable as they could on a flat bench. Throwing his bag on the grass below the table that stood between them.

Routinely, they find themselves in the same scenario from previous encounters. Except for the mere fact they had changed their clothes, both of them actually wearing something similar. Brendon doesn't allow himself to think about it for too long, after all, anyone can choose jeans and a white shirt.

"So, what're you doing?" Ryan inquires, and Brendon hates how easy it is for him to just turn over his laptop and show him. Even if Ryan hadn't exactly asked to see, he knows Brendon would show him anyway.