The Impossible is Possible (Ryden)

Chapter 7

"Are you mad?" Spencer asks, with wide eyes. "That would ruin everything. Jon is. Jon is popular and well-liked and he'd never like me. Ever."

"But --"

"No, Brendon, it's useless trying to persuade me," Spencer warns, firmly. "He'd never like me."

"Who wouldn't like you?" comes a curious voice, and they both look up to see Jon stood in front of them, a suspicious expression on his face. Spencer turns about ten shades darker, and shoots Brendon a glare, silently warning him to shut up.

"Uh. Nobody important," Spencer shrugs, hopping off the banister. "Brendon's got to go to Ryan's now. He was just keeping me company until you came."

"What, so I've got you all to myself now, have I?" Jon jokes, and Brendon laughs. Spencer, on the other hand, looks down at his feet, awkwardly. Brendon shakes his head, despairing over his shy friend, and then runs a hand through his hair.

"Yeah, I should get going," he smiles. "Bye."

"Bye," they both chime, still looking overly awkward.

"Oh, and Spencer?" Brendon laughs, and the boy shoots him a questioning look. "Good luck with the confession."

Spencer's eyes narrow, and Jon looks confused, but Brendon just laughs to himself and leaves them both to it. He heads out of the mall, smiling to himself. He really hopes they both get their acts together. After all, they're both gay, and they're both into each other - he just hopes that shyness doesn't stop them from developing a relationship.

Ryan's house is only ten minutes from the mall, so Brendon sets off quickly, quite looking forward to getting there. He's thrilled that Ryan had thought so highly of his singing, and he spent all last night practising. For some reason, he feels a strong drive within him to impress Ryan. Maybe it's because Ryan so seldom shows emotion, and he likes to be the one to bring it out.

Maybe it's because of that smile. But, of course, Brendon won't let himself think of that.

He reaches Ryan's house in about seven minutes, having walked fast, and he knocks three times on the door, shifting his weight from one foot to the other restlessly. Within seconds, the door opens, revealing Ryan. To his surprise, Ryan's cheeks are flushed, and his hair is tousled, and he looks hastily dressed in a pair of pyjama bottoms and a baggy t-shirt.

"Um. Brendon. Hey," he greets, sounding a little embarrassed. He runs a hand through his messy hair, and steps back, to let Brendon in. Brendon enters, feeling a little wrong footed, and Ryan gives a nervous laugh. "I just, um. I just out of the shower and everything."

Brendon blinks. Ryan sounds like he's lying - but even if he's telling the truth, just why would Brendon need to know? "Afternoon," he smiles, trying his best to ignore the awkward air surrounding them. "Sorry if I came round at a bad time."

"No, not at all." Ryan smoothes down his t-shirt, as though he's trying to subtly wipe his hands. "Let's go up then, shall we?"

Brendon nods, and follows Ryan up the stairs and into his bedroom. It's the same as it was the day before - except, making Brendon's cheeks suddenly flame red, the bed isn't made and there's a wad of tissues dropped haphazardly on the sheets. Everything instantly makes sense; Ryan's flushed persona, his embarrassment, and the mess.

"Having a nice time, were you?" Brendon asks, and then actually claps a hand over his mouth, completely and utterly mortified at himself. "I mean. Uh. Fuck. I didn't mean to --"

Ryan follows his gaze to the tissues, and his eyes go wide. "Fuck. Um. It's not what it looks like, at all. It's just. Uh. I spilt something all over the bed and was cleaning it up, that's all."