"Oh, look."

"You get a bed to yourself, Ryry."

"Fantastic!"

Brendon grinned that stupidly adorable grin of his, shinny teeth and all. Ryan forced a smile. He wanted to sleep in the same bed as Brendon. Why? Did it matter? Who didn't? Ryan stood awkwardly, lugging his heavy suitcase through the door, being strangled by the strap of his guitar case. Brendon giggled at him, falling back against his own bed. It would be a rough day today. Dramatic sigh. Oh, the lifestyles of fabulous rock stars. Screaming fans, always smiling, playing for money, out all night. Not to mention the drugs, booze and hot sex. Ryan could get any girl- or boy- he wanted, really. He was famous, he was gorgeous; but Ryan didn't want just any boy and certainly not a girl. Ryan Ross wanted Brendon Urie. He wanted Brendon so bad—because Brendon was an angel.

The chocolate eyed boy fluttered his lids open to stare at Ryan in that moment. He was tired, but forcing himself awake by drinking more Red Bull than the average person consumed any liquid. He was watching Ryan watch him, upside down. Everything seemed better upside down, really. Brendon gave a giggle, the kind that left Ryan's cheeks a tint of blossom and a shiver snake down his thin spine. Then Brendon's hand reached for his own pocket, calloused fingers brushing past the material of his girl jeans- because Brendon wore girl jeans, and it was rather fucking adorable. Ryan knew what he was getting and the older boy sat up on his heels, watching him carefully.

Yup. Brendon was taking another smoke. Good ol' drugs.

DRINK ALL DAY. PLAY ALL NIGHT. LET'S GET IT POPPIN'.

I wanna be a rock star.

Warm. Protected. Brendon. There was no way Ryan Ross was in his own bed, now. And he knew this. Oh no, he couldn't have. There was no way Ryan would let that happen, he wasn't that stupid. But he had. And boy, Ryan was feeling awful for doing it, too. Ryan had fallen asleep with Brendon last night, in his bed. With a high Brendon. But Brendon wouldn't be high when he woke up, he would be a sober Brendon and most likely an upset Brendon. Ryan had taken advantage of him. Sure they didn't do anything…

If you don't count the perfect touches, sweet kisses. Damn, Brendon was an angel. Lids flickered opened and frantic hazel orbs searched the hotel room. He didn't even remember their position, last night that they had slept in, but he soon realized that Brendon was in his arms. A sleeping angel snored- rather loudly, at that- in his arms and Ryan let out a soft sigh. He was awfully stupid. What happened to him proving to everyone- not to mention himself- he wasn't gay.

He could remember his conversation with Jon like it was yesterday. Jon and Spencer were right next door, hell, they probably knew what was going on; what diabolical plan Ryan had in that beautiful evil head of his.

"So… You're gay." Jon stated, blankly. He stared at Ryan, his eyes showing this was no surprise.

Ryan gapped. "What- no! Fuck, Jon. What… No, I'm- why would you assume… What- why?"

Jon couldn't help but laugh and shrug his shoulders. "I can tell." Was all the dark haired man said.

"How?" Ryan blinked, spitting the word through a closed jaw.

"I can see it in the way you stare at Brendon Urie."

And then it hit Ryan. He was in love with Brendon and he hadn't even realized it. No, Jon realized it. Spencer probably did. Gabe, Pete, William. They'd always make jokes about 'Ryden'; jokes that earned them all a dirty look and each a smack on the back of their heads. Brendon would always laugh of the jokes. Brendon loved to laugh. He loved being funny and making everyone feel good; just being around the big idiot made Ryan feel good.

But admitting it is the next step.

Ryan didn't want to admit it. Denial. It was certainly what it was. He was in denial. Ryan was, in fact, so far into that closet that clothes engulfed him and he was sure he couldn't get out. He was afraid of the light. Ryan was scared of what people would say- what people would think. Gabe, William, Spencer, Travis… Brendon. What Brendon would think?

And then, Ryan even wondered, how does one even come about with saying that?

"Everyone. I am Ryan Ross, and I am gay."

Hah. Laugh. Good joke. That would not fly. But when Ryan really thought about it, when he thought really hard- he honestly didn't care what other people thought about him. He didn't care what his friends had to say, not even what his family had to say. Brendon was the only one that mattered now and for Ryan to let something as stupid as the most flawless boy in the world get to him; that was bad. But Brendon had somehow- eventually- managed to crawl into Ryan's heart.

With his adorably stupid laugh, his stupid way he said stupid things, his stupid totally sexy applebottom and his stupid… Stupidness. Ryan was more than attracted, more than infatuated. Ryan needed Brendon. He needed Brendon like a drug, like water, like air. Brendon was the sweetest taste of sin and Ryan loved it. Ryan loved the way Brendon would flirt with him on stage, occasionally drape his arm protectively around the thinner boy. Ryan loved when Brendon would kiss his cheek. It was different. It was a different kind of kiss; not like how he would give to Gabe, Pete or Jon. It was kind of kiss that left butterflies flapping madly in Ryan's stomach. And this angered him.

Yes, he was mad at himself. Coming out was so hard and there was no way Brendon liked him the same way. They were just band-mates and nothing more. But damn, oh damn the light. Ryan liked the closet. It was warm in there and he wasn't afraid. He could hide. He could pretend all he wanted. It was nice to pretend. In his dreams, Ryan pretended the most outrageous thing. That Brendon Urie was, even just for a second, was his.

Ryan let his arms instinctively tighten around Brendon as he held him closer. He was being protective; because now, whilst Brendon was asleep, Brendon was his. The taller boy let his head move to brush his plump, chapped lips over Brendon's forehead. Then a thought struck his mind just as Brendon's soft skin made contact to his lips.

You fucking moron. You're doing this to yourself. Stop!

Brendon was so innocent, in his own juvenile way. Brendon was so perfect. Ryan didn't just have to have him; he could not not have him. And this is when Ryan's diabolical mind went into overdrive. Ryan would just have to be greedy. He could get what he wanted, if he played that way; if he was the temptress.

Ryan slowly ran his finger tips down Brendon's back, massaging absently. Brendon reacted with a twitch of those perfect lips and a small mumble of some incoherent word. Ryan let his hand grace back up Brendon's back to play with his hair. Brendon was laying partly on him and Ryan steadied his breathing. Slow, even breaths.

In, out, in, out.

His heart, however, he could not seem to control. It pounded rapidly in his chest like the beat to some intense Stones song; he just hoped it wouldn't wake the sleeping beauty. Ryan swallowed, a lump caught in his throat.

What if Brendon woke up and Brendon was scared? What if Brendon pushed Ryan away? Ryan would cry. Ryan would die. Brendon needed to love him back. Brendon was a baby, he'd gathered over the years of knowing him- and babies were clingy. Ryan would be okay with that. Hell, he'd be more than okay. The older boy continued to watch Brendon sleep, running his pink tongue over his own bottom lip as he stared and let out a soft breath against his skin. Just a whisper. Just a thought.

I love you.