Enceinte • Ryden

¶ Chapter Eight ¶

• Chapter Eight - Concede •

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(Probably a lot of typos, please forgive me.)

"Hey Bren, I'm home." Ryan yelled out, it was around 9:00 PM, he had went out to buy some snacks for the needy younger man and ended up getting enough food for about a month, but it was very doubtful that Brendon would like any of those foods tomorrow, but oh well.

"Finally, you take forever." Brendon complained as he jogged into the living room.

"Oh, hush. At least I got you food!" Ryan spoke, he knew Brendon was only going to get more bossy throughout the pregnancy, but he didn't typically mind, Brendon was still Brendon, and Ryan-liked him for who he is.

"True." Brendon said as Ryan sat the Walmart and Fred Meyer's bags on the kitchen counter, Brendon foraged through the bags, finding the can of pickles and a Hershey's chocolate bar, attempting to open the pickle jar, but failing, trying once again he used his shirt, but failing a second time, Brendon looked at Ryan with puppy dog eyes, "Will you please open this for me?"

Ryan laughed, "Sure." Ryan grabbed the glass jar, spinning the green cap with his strength, succeeding with opening it, and handing the open jar to the shorter boy.

"Thank you." Brendon said nervously as he pulled a fork out from the utensil drawer, and stabbing a stubby pickle, stuffing it into his mouth.

Brendon crunched the green food in his mouth, finishing it in a ten second time range, and swallowing.

Brendon sighed as he looked down at his stomach, "I'm getting really big." Brendon sighed, putting his hand on his stomach, his stomach was sticking out three inches away from his body.

"That's okay, it's natural." Ryan responded, with a sympathetic smile.

"Are you calling me fat?" Brendon asked, accusing Ryan of something that Ryan assuredly did not say.

"What? No. How did you turn that onto me saying you're fat?" Ryan questioned, eyebrows scrunched together and his hands out in defense.

"So, I am. You're an asshole." Brendon implicated, crossing his arms across his chest.

"Brendon, stop acting up, you're beautiful, and you know that, that," Ryan pointed at Brendon's stomach, "is not fat, it's our child, our, I can only imagine, beautiful, child. I didn't call you fat, because you're not, and if you were, I would still think you're beautiful."

Brendon looked away, before sighing and looking at Ryan, "If you keep saying this kind of stuff I'm gonna catch feelings." Brendon spoke, even though he knew he already had caught feelings like eight years ago, the feeling never left, just like that stupid one hit song they made, fucking I Write Sins.

"Fine, then I'll stop complimenting you if that's what you really want." Ryan replied, a smug look on his face.

"No, that will not be necessary. I need you to compliment me, it's what my ego feeds off of." Brendon said with a dramatic sigh.

Ryan laughed, "Don't you have fans for that?"

"Well, yeah, but I like your opinion more then anyone else's." Brendon admitted, walking to the couch with his pickle jar and chocolate, Ryan following with a laugh, both sitting beside each other, criss-cross applesauce.