So...
It's been almost three months since I've updated this one. & that was around the time my life went to fucking shit and now I can't update as often as I'd like because I don't have any privacy. So, I'm sorry.
---
Ryan's Point of View *
"I'm kind of thinking about taking Bren somewhere," I told Jon. "like, somewhere nice. Special."
"Special?" He asked, raising an eyebrow. "Why? What's the occasion?"
"I don't know," I sighed and leaned back against the couch. "I just... I don't know. I think he's the one."
Jon laughed and set his glass of whiskey on the coffee table.
"You're kidding, right?" He asked. I shook my head and stared at him. "Ryan Ross does not settle down."
"Brendon's different."
"How? How is he different from any other guy you've been with? You always take them to nice places and buy them things. The only difference between them and Brendon, is that he lives here."
"See?" I sat up and put my hands up. "He's the one. He's the only one I've let live with me. I even gave him a car!"
"Don't come crawling to me when you get hurt again."
"I won't get hurt," I said surely. "he isn't like that."
"Okay, Ry." Jon laughed and sipped his whiskey. "Where is he anyway?"
"At work. He'll be home soon."
"Don't you think you're moving a little too fast, Ry?" He asked with a raised eyebrow.
"No, not at all." Why would I? "I'm not getting any younger and I'm ready to settle down. Get married and maybe have some kids. With Brendon."
"If you say so, man." Jon stood up and straightened out his clothes. "I have to get going. Got plans later tonight."
"With Spencer?" I smirked.
"What? Who said that?"
"It's only obvious." I laughed and stood up. "Well, you crazy kids have fun tonight. Don't get in too much trouble."
Jon said bye and left, leaving me alone to wait for Brendon to get home.
---
I heard footsteps in the kitchen and I smiled to myself.
Brendon's home.
I walked out of the bedroom with a smile on my face to greet my hopefully soon to be fiance.
"Hey babe." He was standing in front of the counter, elbows rested on the counter top and his head in his hands. "What's the matter?" He stood up straight but kept his head down and mumbled something. "What?"
"I can't fucking do this anymore." His voice was hoarse. When he looked up at me, I could see his eyes were red and puffy.
"Do what?" I stepped closer to him, ready to wrap my arms around him, but he backed away and shook his head, on the verge of crying. "Brendon, what the fuck is going on?"
"We need to talk." Brendon wiped his eyes and walked past me into the living room. I furrowed my eyebrows and followed him.
"Talk about what? What's going on? Did something happen at work? Wh-"
"Just listen to me, please." He sat on the couch and I sat next to him. He won't look at me. He's keeping his head down and his hands are folded in his lap.
