Before
Brendon was eighteen when he first met Ryan.
He used to skateboard, mostly because he thought it made him look cool, but also because his friends were riding skateboards and smoking pot and he didn't want to be the only one not doing it. So he saved up all his money from working after school in his mom's grocery shop, and he bought himself a second-hand skateboard. He wanted his friends to think he was cool.
They thought he was cool already, without the skateboard, but he didn't know that.
It was a warm June afternoon, and he was at his usual skate park with Frank, the Way brothers and Spencer. The Ways were already high as kites, and Spencer was leaning against a tree reading a book, but Frank was happy to skate with Brendon. He'd only had the damn board for about two weeks, and he kept falling off, and he was sure that Frank was beyond pissed off with his constant asking for help (he wasn't), but he still wanted to skate.
So, with scraped knees and sunburn on his nose, Brendon tried to copy the tricks Frank was showing him. He was practicing so hard, sweat dripping down his face as he tried to do a kickflip, but then he got distracted and he fell on his face. Someone new had arrived.
"Hey guys, sorry I'm late."
Brendon hadn't been sure of his sexuality back then; he knew he liked girls, and he had the same fuzzy feelings when he looked at some of the boys, too, but he didn't quite get it. The new guy, though, had Brendon's heart thundering in his chest.
From what Brendon could see from his position on the floor, he had curly brown hair and a sharp jaw, and a shy smile on his face. His eyes were hidden by sunglasses, though the vibe of his outfit didn't really match - it was like his sunglasses said 'cool' but his shirt and waistcoat said 'just fallen out of a haberdashery'. He was undeniably pretty.
He saw Frank's hand appear in his peripheral vision and he looked up at his friend, who was smirking. "Get up, idiot. You're bleeding." Frank said, and Brendon felt his cheeks heat up as he took his hand and got to his feet.
Together they walked - or rather, Frank walked and Brendon limped - over to the rest of the group. Even Spencer had put his book down to converse, which was a miracle in itself. The new guy turned towards them as they approached, nodding his head towards Frank.
"Hey, man. How's it going?" said Frank, offering a jerk of his head in return.
"Hey, Frank. Good to see you again." New Guy said, his voice smooth like honey or syrup or -
Frank nudged Brendon, knocking him out of his daydream. "Huh?" he said, looking between Frank and New Guy. He had not been listening.
New Guy laughed, the sound reminding Brendon of birdsong or church bells or - "I said, I'm Ryan." He took off his sunglasses, revealing the nicest pair of brown eyes Brendon had ever seen. "I'm a new friend of Spencer's."
Brendon had momentarily forgotten his own name in the midst of gay panic, but Frank nudging him once more with his skinny elbows brought him back to reality for just enough time for him to introduce himself. "Hi. I'm Brendon." he cleared his throat, holding out a hand before realising it had blood on it and taking it back awkwardly. "I'd shake your hand but, uh, I don't wanna accidentally give you hepatitis or something."
New Guy - Ryan - arched a perfect eyebrow, the corner of his mouth twitching. "If you're worried you might have hepatitis, you should probably get tested."
"I didn't - I don't - I mean -" Brendon stammered, his heartbeat racing in his chest. He didn't want Ryan to think he was some disease-ridden maniac who went about offering hepatitis to people, but it was difficult to get that across when Ryan was as gorgeous as he was. "I'm a virgin," he spat out.
Frank burst out laughing at his expense, and Brendon hid his face in his hands, wishing that the ground would just swallow him whole and save him from this embarrassment. But it didn't, and Ryan just shook his head, fighting a smile, before turning to Spencer, who'd by then gone back to his book.
Head spinning, Brendon vaguely heard someone calling his name, and he turned around to see the Way brothers waving him over. He went and sat with them, Frank heading back to the half-pipe, as they lit up yet another joint.
Gerard was the older of the two, and also the more irresponsible; he had a bad habit of flirting with everything that had a heartbeat, and was the group's sole provider of illegal substances. He also dealt drugs from time to time, but nobody needed to know that. His younger brother, Mikey, was skinny and the same age as Brendon. He wasn't quite following in Gerard's footsteps - he at least had a legal job - but wherever Gerard was, Mikey was usually a few steps behind. It was a well-known fact that both brothers had a hard-on for Frank, who at the time didn't have an interest in either of them (he would later go on to date Mikey but sleep with his brother behind his back, the aftermath of which tearing the brothers apart so devastatingly that they only started speaking again when their grandmother died).
"He's hot, isn't he?" Gerard said, passing Brendon the joint so that he could have a smoke or two. He really should've been cleaning his scraped hands and elbows, but he had other things on his mind - hot guy Ryan being one of them.
"Who?" Brendon replied, playing dumb. He took a drag of the spliff, still not quite used to smoking but slowly getting the hang of it. He wasn't having coughing fits whenever he smoked, at least. That would've given hot guy Ryan another reason to think him a loser.
"You know who." Gerard replied, rolling his eyes as he took the joint back from Brendon. "Tell him, Mikes."
Mikey nodded slowly, his eyes unfocused. The guy spent most of his life in a daze, it was hard to believe that he functioned at all. "What Gee said."
"Helpful," Gerard muttered, about to roll his eyes yet again (his eyeballs never seemed to stay still, constantly rotating in his head) when he suddenly smirked, leaning closer to Brendon. "Don't look, but hot guy Ryan's staring at you."
Of course, Brendon being the idiot he was, he turned and looked behind him, pretending to be casual and failing miserably. His eyes caught Ryan's from across the grass, and what made Brendon even weaker was that Ryan smiled at him.
"I'm gonna go skate," Brendon announced, getting to his feet and grabbing his board. It was too much, too many butterflies at once. Not to mention that he was a massive coward and wouldn't dream of asking hot guy Ryan for his number.
He spent the next couple of hours skating with Frank, and when the sky began to get dark, he knew that he should probably head home. Even at eighteen he had a curfew, which he thought was dumb but couldn't be bothered to argue.
He was saying his goodbyes to his friends when Ryan jumped to his feet, mumbling something about walking him to the gate. He tried to play it cool as they walked together in silence, but when they got to the gate, he found that the connection between his brain and his mouth had failed completely, and he was stuck looking into Ryan's gorgeous eyes like a fool.
"Um," Ryan said, breaking eye contact and looking towards the floor, forcing Brendon to snap out of it. He tucked a strand of hair behind his ear and continued. "Sorry, this is probably really weird, but I - um - well I was - I was wondering - canigetyournumber?"
Brendon blinked, a smile creeping up on his face as he saw the blush that tinted Ryan's cheeks. "I, um, didn't quite catch that. Can you repeat it for me?" He said, his heart full of hope. He was sure he'd heard it right, but he wanted Ryan to say it again. Just to be sure.
Ryan groaned, burying his face in his hands. "No, I'm so awkward!" He said, his voice muffled. "I've never done this before."
"Neither have I," Brendon admitted with a small shrug.
Ryan peeked at Brendon from between his fingers, their eyes searching each other's. Then Ryan sighed, letting his hands fall away from his face. "Can I get your number?" He asked, his voice quietly hopeful.
Brendon grinned, bouncing on the balls of his feet. "Yeah, sure you can. You got a pen?"
Ryan nodded, pulling one out from the pocket of his waistcoat, and he handed it over to Brendon, who grabbed both the pen and his hand and proceeded to scrawl the digits on Ryan's skin. They were close enough so that Brendon could smell Ryan's cologne; leather, with a hint of vanilla. It drove him crazy.
"There," he said, handing the pen back to Ryan and stepping away. "Don't lose it."
Ryan laughed, holding his hand close to his chest. "I won't. See you around, hepatitis Brendon."
God fucking damn it. "See ya, Ryan."
And Brendon went home, feeling like he was walking on clouds. He was late, but he didn't care, because a cute guy had asked for his number, and he was so excited to hear from him.
~
Brendon's phone began to ring at 9pm, while he was in the middle of watching some mindless YouTube videos, and his heart jumped as he saw a number he didn't recognise on the screen. He answered it, a timid "Hello?" escaping his lips.
"Hey, it's Ryan," came a voice on the other end, and Brendon bit his lip, taking a deep breath. "Is it okay to call?"
It took Brendon a second to respond. "Yeah, yeah sure, it's all good."
"Are you sure?" Ryan suddenly sounded unsure and even a little bit anxious. "I can just text if it's easier, I don't wanna -"
"It's fine, honest." Brendon crossed his legs on the bed, closing his laptop so he could concentrate. "I'm just surprised to hear from you so soon."
Ryan hummed, and he could be heard shuffling around, wherever he was. "I'm not gonna ask for someone's number and then not talk to him, am I?"
"I dunno, you could've just been making fun of me. Y'know, ha ha, stupid hepatitis Brendon, let's get his number but not actually text him because ew who would want to do that?"
"Hey, no, that's not it at all. I'm genuinely interested in talking to you, you fool."
"Hm, are you sure? 'Cause I know that once you get to know me, you'll be running for the hills."
"Then I'm going to prove you wrong. You won't be able to get rid of me."
"Is that a challenge, Ryan?" His heart was pounding, but in a good way. Was this what flirting was like? He wasn't too sure, but he thought so. And it felt good.
"Yeah, it is a challenge, Brendon."
Fuck, he loved the way Ryan said his name.
"Challenge accepted. What do you wanna know first?"
They spent the next few hours talking about anything and everything, from their favorite movies (Brendon's was Monsters, Inc., Ryan's was Love, Actually) to what three things they'd take with them to a deserted island (Brendon said a shovel, a copy of Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban, and a pot, which made Ryan laugh because what the fuck would you need a shovel for on a deserted island? Fossils won't do you much good there and Brendon spent forty minutes trying to justify himself while Ryan laughed on the other end of the phone).
Brendon had never connected that well with anyone before, not even his best friends. By the time they reached a lull in the conversation, they realised that the sun was beginning to rise. Brendon decided he'd probably better get some sleep, but promised to text Ryan during the day - y'know, to further convince him that talking to him was a waste of time.
That was his excuse, anyway.