Brendon walks back from the shops, whistling pleasantly to himself.
He can't actually believe how good he feels. It was the last day of school at the end of last week, and to know that he's never, ever going to have to go back into those classrooms, and see those faces, and hear those voices, well. It makes him feel more liberated than he could have imagined.
He went to the shops to get some chocolate, because when he'd woken up that morning, he'd found Ryan in a foul mood. Though the lithium is supposed to make him more balanced, he still has incredibly off-days, and Brendon thought that instead of hanging around and getting his head bitten off, he might have more fun getting some fresh air, and some food.
As he opens the front door, he takes a healthy bite of the chocolate, savouring the sweet taste on his tongue before swallowing. The feeling of contentment swells inside of him, and he grins, shutting the door. Chocolate never fails to make him feel better.
He heads straight for the kitchen, to deposit the Pepsi Max he's bought in the fridge. His parents are in there, talking genially, and he smiles at them in welcome, which they return. They carry on with their conversation, as he puts the cans in the fridge.
"Ryan didn't go with you?" Mrs. Urie asks, startled, as he turns back towards them.
Brendon shakes his head. "He's, um. He's not feeling too good. Med troubles and all that."
"Ah," Mrs. Urie nods, in understanding, looking troubled. "Does he need anything?"
"Not really, his mood'll improve soon, it always does," Brendon shrugs, thickly, through another mouth full of chocolate. He has another bar in his pocket, for Ryan, a peace-offering of sorts. Ryan had just about attacked him this morning when he'd asked if he was okay, but he hopes the gesture might make him feel a little better. "I'll go up and see him, now."
"Good luck, kid," Mr. Urie winks, giving him the thumbs up, and Brendon smiles, before heading up the stairs towards his room. He pushes his door open and enters, cautiously. He's not very good with coping with a bad-tempered boyfriend, he's learned from experience.
To his surprise, he finds Ryan on his knees, rifling through the bottom of Brendon's drawers, a desperate look on his face. Brendon pauses, then shuts the door behind himself, and clears his throat. "Uh. What are you looking for?"
Ryan looks up at him. "My knife. I can't find it anywhere. I had two, and one got lost when we were attacked, but I had a spare one, and now I can't find it anywhere. Fuck it."
Brendon puts the chocolate bars down on his bedside table, and sits on the edge of his bed. He watches Ryan abandon his searching of the drawer, and start scanning the floor, and then sighs, heavily. "Why do you need a knife?"
Ryan throws him a dirty look. "Why the fuck do you think I do?"
Brendon sighs. "No, I don't. I don't think I'll ever really know, or understand."
"Well, I'm sorry I can't be all full of energy and happiness all the time like you," Ryan spits, bitterly, and continues with his search. "Help me find it, would you? I need it."
"No, you don't," Brendon disagrees, calmly, and Ryan glares at him. "I don't understand, because there are other things you could be doing right now which would be more productive than slicing your thighs open."
Brendon knows his words are blunt, but he only feels a little guilty as Ryan goes red. After all, he needs to do something to break his boyfriend's habit, and if throwing his knife away and being unsympathetic works, he's got to try it. Ryan lets out a heavy, angry breath, and shakes his head. "You don't understand. There's nothing else I could be doing. I need to do this."
Brendon stares at him silently for a few moments, and then pulls his t-shirt over his head, throwing it on the floor. He lays back on the bed, and unbuckles his belt, before pausing and looking up at Ryan. He lets his fingers trail across the top of his boxers, teasingly, and then says, coldly, "Well, you can go downstairs and get a knife from the kitchen, or you could fuck me. It's really up to you."
Ryan stares at him, his lips slightly parted, and all of the anger and desperation seems to fade from his very being. He stumbles towards the bed, and clambers across it, meeting Brendon's mouth in a clumsy, hungry kiss. Brendon smiles, against the boy's lips, and he can already feel himself growing hard.
Before he knows what's happening, Ryan is tugging down his jeans and boxers, without breaking the kiss. Brendon lets his own hands find Ryan's belt buckle, and before too long, they're both undressed, and Ryan is pulling a condom and a bottle of lube from Brendon's beside table. Brendon feels the familiar thrill of anticipation deep inside, as Ryan pulls on the condom, smears lubricant over his cock, and then begins to leave a trail hot, lingering kisses down Brendon's bare chest, his long fingers closing around Brendon's cock.
Brendon lets out a small groan, as Ryan's other hand closes around his own cock, guiding it to Brendon's entrance. Brendon wraps his legs around Ryan's waist, pulling him closer, and he tosses his head back, as Ryan's hand quickens it pace. "God, please, just --"
"Okay," Ryan laughs, in response, his bad mood seemingly completely having been overcome by lust. Without further hesitation, or any preparation, he pushes into Brendon, going as deeply in as possible, and then pausing. Brendon lets out a light groan, getting used to the slight stinging, and the size and the intrusion. He takes a few deep breaths, closes his eyes, and murmurs, "Go on."
Ryan nods, and lowers his upper body, pressing a deep, hot kiss to Brendon's mouth, their tongues meeting. He pulls out slightly, and then pushes in again, slowly. His hand is still pumping Brendon's cock, and Brendon feels the bizarre, astounding, beautiful feeling of pleasure and a little pain and lust and excitement, running through him.
His hands, which are shaking slightly, find there way to Ryan's ass, and he pulls him in, deeper, his head knocking against the headboard a little as Ryan quickens the pace, rocking against his prostate, and causing Brendon to flush and moan, a little more loudly. Ryan muffles it with another, deep kiss, groaning a little himself as he steadily thrusts, in and out.
It takes two minutes of rocking and thrusting and absolute pleasure to bring Brendon over to the edge, and as he feels his insides tightening, he bites down, hard, on Ryan's lip, causing Ryan to let out a low groan from the back of his throat, his thrusts become more erratic, but deeper. He presses deeply into Brendon one last time, holding himself inside, and lets out a low moan, his tongue pulsing hotly against Brendon's.
Brendon comes a moment later, hard, covering their stomachs warmly and stickily, with a loud, uncontrolled moan, that seems to come from the pit of his stomach. Ryan pulls out of him, and collapses onto the bed next to him. Both of their bodies are slick with sweat and certain other substances, and their breathing is heavy and hard to catch.
Ryan licks his lips, his bottom one red and a little bruised, and kisses Brendon, more tenderly. His hand, which is a little sweaty, takes Brendon's, and squeezes, firmly. "You," he informs his beaming boyfriend, quietly, "are the best therapy in the world."
For some reason, that makes Brendon the happiest person in the world.
*
Brendon lies back in the grass, letting out a sigh of utter contentment, his grip around his beer can lax.
It's one in the morning, and he, Jon, Spencer and Ryan are sat on the park, drinking and talking and laughing, celebrating the end of the school year, and the sentencing of the Ashfield brothers.
Martin has been sentenced to seven years in jail for attempted murder, whilst Timothy has been sentenced to three, for assisting the mess. Though Brendon, personally, thinks that Martin especially deserves life for nearly taking Ryan away from the world, he's satisfied that there is going to be at least some justice. The trial has been long and tiring, and he's relieved it's over.
Jon takes a large swig of his own beer, and licks his lips, flushed and smiling. "So, what are everybody's plans now we've done with high school?"
"I'm probably going to college," Spencer shrugs, though he looks a bit reluctant. "My parents want me to, and they said they'd help pay for it."
"You don't seem very enthusiastic," Ryan comments, studying the boy.
"I'm not," Spencer sighs, heavily. "If it were up to me, I'd be done with education, for good."
"It is up to you," Ryan counters, sternly. "It's your life, and it's up to you if you want to be miserable in university, or happy doing what you want. Don't let what your parents want ruin your life."
Spencer looks surprised, but grateful at this advice. With a small smile, he says, "Thanks. You're, well. You're right. I really don't want to go, and I can't see myself being happy there. I think I'll talk to my parents about it."
"Good," Ryan grins, seemingly satisfied. "I'm not going. I have no idea what I want to do though. I'll get a job somewhere, I think, like in a bookshop or café, and save up, and then...travel. Yeah, travel. I've always wanted to see the night sky from a different city."
"I'm going to college, I think," Jon says, with a smile. "I'm probably going to study something to do with music. But locally, because I don't want to leave anything behind."
He glances at Spencer when he says this, and Spencer grins at him, taking his hand, casually. Brendon watches them both with a smile, and then lets out a light sigh. "I don't want to go to college. I think I'll just get a job and see where life takes me." He glances at Ryan, and adds, "Or, well. Where a certain someone takes me."
Ryan smiles, leaning over to press a quick kiss to the corner of his mouth. "I love you," he murmurs, as he pulls back. Brendon beams, and whispers, "I love you too. Probably way too much."
"How about your singing?" Jon asks, breaking the moment between them. "You were like, amazing in music class. Are you going to do anything with that?"
Brendon wrinkles his nose. "Like what? Join a band? I don't know anybody who'd be interested in making one or anything. Nobody plays any instruments."
There's silence for a few moments, in which an idea begins to unfurl in his mind, and when he glances around at the excited, lit up faces of his friends, he can tell that they're thinking the exact same thing. Spencer, hesitantly, says, "I play the drums."
"I can play bass," Jon comments, quietly.
"I'm alright at guitar," Ryan adds, grinning slightly.
All three of them look at Brendon expectantly, and Brendon bites his lip, trying to keep the smile from off his face. Everything seems to fit together well, almost perfectly, and before he knows it, he asks, "Are you all willing to give it a try?"
Everybody shares a look, and then begin to nod, and Brendon lets out a slightly drunken, very excited laugh. "Fuck it. We might as well make one, then. What have we got to lose?"
Jon grins, widely. "Shit, this is amazing. I don't know why nobody thought of it sooner."
"I know," Spencer laughs, and Jon takes another healthy gulp of his beer, before leaning over to his boyfriend, and kissing him, his tongue tentatively parting Spencer's lips. Spencer smiles, and slips his hands around Jon's waist, pulling him back onto the grass.
Brendon looks away, politely, and finds himself, suddenly, being straddled by a tipsy, smiling Ryan. The boy kisses him, swiftly, missing his mouth and kissing his nose instead, and when he pulls back, he's laughing.
"This is going to be perfect," he comments, happily.
"Like you," Brendon replies, a little shyly, slipping his hands comfortably around Ryan's hips.
"Like you, you mean," Ryan corrects him, nuzzling his face into Brendon's neck, leaving a few kisses there. Brendon smiles, biting his lip, and running his fingers through the softness of Ryan's dark hair. "Never change, okay?"
"Of course I won't," Brendon whispers in reply. "Not if you don't, either."
"I'll try," Ryan replies, a little cheekily, and then he's kissing him again, almost desperately, as though he needs the contact more than anything in the world. Brendon know that he, at least, feels that way. Then, Ryan pulls back, breathless, and vulnerable, and flushed, and beautiful. "I love you," he says, simply, but the amount of emotion behind the words makes Brendon's stomach twist, hotly.
"I love you, too," he says.
He's never been more honest in his life, and he's never been happier, as Ryan laughs, and meets his mouth in a tender, lingering kiss, once more.
Fin. x