Work Text:
"Always remember, someone's effort is a reflection of their interest in you."
The sun arose early in the morning like every other day, shining and blinding. With its entry, it sent a silent clue to all those little birds — whether they were flying in the air, resting on a tree branch, or stood close to someone's window — to chirp and start singing their usual melody.
Just from the limited scene displayed in the relatively small window, more than ten parties up the ground, the beauty of nature remained untouched. If it weren't for the few plants he kept alive on the balcony, that particular city-esque spot would have looked as lifeless as it had been before.
He didn't mind waking up early, he truly enjoyed doing it every day. The clock read something around seven am. He could be sleeping, resting throughout the few hours left of sweet silence. Yet, he got up and prepared his morning coffee, starting his weekly routine.
The book he had been reading for the last couple of days, was laying on top of the coffee table in the living room, right where he had left it the night before. After pouring himself a mug, Ryan went for his usual spot on the couch, retrieving the book in the process.
Right there, half-laying on one of the corners of the couch, that one window was facing him. It helped the space to keep a comfortable lighting, not hurting his eyes as he scanned through the printed words on the falling-apart pages of the book. Every now and then, a little bird would fly in circles, going away and returning soon after to its nest. A tranquil atmosphere fell down over the place.
A few hours deep into his daily lecture time, not knowing for sure how much time he spent tucked away from the world to dive in the story instead, Ryan had finished his cup of coffee, and was mentally deliberating if he should get another one when the doorbell rang. He stood up, stretching his limbs as he did so.
It probably had passed just a few hours — it had to be at least nine am, so early for someone to be at his doorstep, ringing the bell for his attention. Ryan got to the door, bending down to be eye level with the peephole, only to be met with more of the wooden surface — it seemed he just couldn't get used to not having one at all.
Ryan unlocked the front door and opened it scarcely, leaving just a fair amount of space for him to get a peek of who they were. He was met with quite a visitor — his neighbor, who lived by the end of the corridor.
"Hi, Ryan." The boy greeted Ryan, a shy grin on his full lips. He was casually clothed, looking far more presentable than Ryan, who was still wearing his worn out pajamas, barefoot.
"Hey." Ryan returned the greeting and opened the door fully, feeling more at ease they weren't anyone else than his neighbor. Ryan knew him enough to not be afraid — the boy was nice. "Would you like to come in, or...?"
"No, no, it's fine. I'm just passing by." The other boy rushed his words, shaking his head no. His bottom lip was pulled between his teeth, and his hands were fiddling with something he was carrying.
"Oh ok... And, what brings you here?" Ryan questioned, leaning into the door. More like, half-hugging it, trying to hide his bed clothes from the one at his door. "I hope it's nothing bad..."
"None of that, no." He reassured Ryan, diverting his gaze from his shoes to hold eye contact with Ryan, keeping it up for a second too long. "Well, uhm... Anyway, I'm here to give you this. I made cookies, and thought I'd share some."
"Brendon, I'm — You didn't have to." Ryan's eyes widened, extremely confused. The boy — who couldn't be much younger than Ryan himself — was at Ryan's door, offering cookies he had made. Ryan didn't know how to react, he had never received such a gift before.
Brendon was eyeing Ryan a bit hopeful, like Ryan would somehow refuse to take the cookies he was so kindly offering, kept in a small container with an orange lid. "I know, I wanted to... It's nothing, really."
"Thanks — thank you." Ryan kicked himself out of the trance he got himself in and extended his hand, finally taking a hold of the container. Ryan's long fingers curled around the prism shaped object, holding it firmly.
The thing was, Ryan knew it wasn't 'nothing', it was surely something — although, he ignored it, for now at least.
"Yeah, no problem." Brendon grinned, shrugging as he got his hands inside his pockets. He fidgeted in place for a bit, before dismissing himself. "I better get going. I hope you like them — see ya."
Ryan returned the smile, a little more genuine than he had grown used to doing. "Of course, bye. And thank you, again." After that, he simply received another contagious smile as an answer — watched as Brendon turned around and went the other way from where his apartment was.
The silence that was left couldn't be classified as calm, but neither was it uncomfortable. Ryan liked it, and figured that last smile from the boy had been enough — more than enough.
Ryan closed the front door at that moment, going directly into the kitchen, where he laid the container on top of the counter. Before actually opening it, he poured the rest of the coffee he had prepared earlier in a clean mug. Then, the orange lid was off, revealing a row of chocolate chip cookies — homemade cookies.
Ryan picked back up his book from the couch, sitting on one of the stools in front of the counter instead. Opening the right page he sipped his drink — black, no sugar. Once he settled on the page and started reading, he grabbed one cookie.
When he took a bite, it was warm.
The next morning, Ryan woke up feeling restless. He surely had had a tiring day at work, not being able to get away with it so easily — but that wasn't related to how he felt.
Instead of getting up and starting his routine on automatic, he completely ignored the book waiting for him to continue it. The coffee pot was full in no time though, and there it was, the particular container with cookies inside. He ate one, and then, another. Ryan concluded they were just too good.
The place had been strangely silent the whole time, not even the birds were chirping at the window. Ryan found himself missing the few morning noises, and, for some unknown reason, he was slightly hoping for the doorbell to ring, or a knock at the door — but nothing came, Ryan made sure of it.
Ryan was growing worried. It had been at least a week since that one encounter with his neighbor. That simple event had made his day, week — whole month, even. A week had passed since that, and he hadn't seen Brendon again.
He couldn't blame himself, their schedules were fairly different, it wasn't usual for them to just see each other casually. Reason combined with Ryan's nerves that couldn't make him confident enough to simply walk down the hall, knock on the door, and talk to him. He was hoping for the boy to, maybe, come back and ask for his container back? Ask Ryan if he enjoyed the cookies? Say hello? It was becoming sort of pathetic.
Ryan couldn't figure out a good enough answer for his problems. And, to top it all, the empty, thoroughly-cleaned container, closed with its distinctive orange lid, was still waiting on top of the counter. Every time he took notice of it, it drove him to all different paths. Going back to step one — freak out.
Ryan had loved the cookies, truly truly loved them. The sweets barely lasted two days. Even if Ryan wasn't very fond of sweet things in general, those little cookies changed something in him. However, he hadn't said anything to Brendon, nothing at all, didn't know what to say — or how to.
The innocent container was the one to blame, according to Ryan's racing thoughts. If it weren't for the damn plastic article hanging around in his kitchen, Ryan wouldn't be losing his mind in useless thinking.
Words were failing him also, so he couldn't grab his phone and send a quick text either. Once again, you couldn't send tangible stuff through messages. The damn plastic container would keep staring at him every morning — both, lighting up and ruining his life, in the best way possible though.
A thought crawled into his mind just then. He just needed something, food. Ryan was a terrible cook, the microwave was his truest best friend. Just the thought of cooking made his head ache, but he needed to, just this once.
As far as he knew, Brendon worked a morning shift, whereas Ryan had an afternoon one. It had to be early in the morning, or, when Brendon arrived from work and Ryan was leaving.
He concluded he'd do it first thing in the morning, right before falling asleep to the sound of the night.
With every step he took, Ryan was regretting his decision even more. However, once he left the comfort of his apartment, and his feet touched the carpeted floor, he swore he felt an inexistent, magnetic-like force pulling him towards that door, not letting him turn back.
A few seconds later, Ryan was face to face with a wooden surface, the exact same material his own door was made of. At that point, he was thoroughly considering the option of ringing the doorbell, and as some kid's prank, leave the container on the 'welcome' carpet and run away. But after he knocked on the door, he didn't have much time to think when it soon opened.
"Hey, Ryan!" The same cheerful smile and joyful personality greeted Ryan first thing. Brendon was almost done with dressing up in his work clothes — Ryan assumed, as Brendon quickly buttoned the white shirt that hugged his frame, leaving it untucked. Even though Brendon looked like he was in a rush, running around the whole apartment getting ready at the last minute, he smiled, and invited Ryan inside.
Before Ryan's tongue could articulate the words 'I'm just passing by', his body was already answering for him, nodding. But right then, he got a hold of his mind and declined the nice offer to come inside the faintly familiar apartment — it was an exact copy from his after all, just styled Brendon-like. "No, thanks, I'm fine here."
"Oh, ok." Brendon's eyes did a thing, that if Ryan knew him a bit more, could figure it out, but couldn't at the moment. Still, Brendon seemed unaffected by it and added. "So, what did I do to deserve such a fine visit?"
Ryan's mind stopped working altogether right there and then, yet it worked perfectly fine to send a sun-kissed type of blush to form on his cheeks. Even if his social interaction levels weren't high, he was smart enough to tell there was something more in Brendon's words, tone.
"Yeah, uhm..." Ryan shrugged, and mentally slapped himself. He was glad Brendon smiled amused, knowing exactly what he was doing, Ryan gave him that.
"I could figure out what brings you here, but I'll be nice and let you talk." While Brendon spoke — voice smooth as butter, but sharp enough to cut — his gaze was falling from Ryan's eyes to the orange lid keeping the container closed, held in Ryan's hands.
"Well, I'm here to give this back." Mission one accomplished, Ryan had finally offered the container back to Brendon. Now, the second part of the mission was for him to actually take it, and it was all done. "Thanks for the cookies, they were good, very, good."
Brendon made a triumphant noise at the back of his throat, like he had won something Ryan didn't know. When he took a hold of the container though, he looked slightly surprised at the extra weight, not just the plastic but something inside feeling heavy in his hand. "Wait, what...?"
Whilst Ryan thought what to say next, Brendon was opening up the lid to reveal what was inside. Waffles, homemade, cut in smaller pieces, decorated with maple syrup and some fresh fruit on the top. "I couldn't come empty handed... I'm not a cook, but hope you like them?"
It seemed Ryan had fallen in the minority of people that had silenced Brendon with just a simple action. Because the boy was at a loss of words and hadn't been for the past three minutes. "Wow, I'm — I surely didn't expect this. Uhm, thanks. Thank you."
"It's okay... See, take it as a thank you." Ryan offered, pocketing his hands to hide them, and keep them busy. "For the cookies, I mean." And for being such a nice person, he added in his mind.
"Sure, uhm, wow — Thanks, Ryan." Brendon had closed the container and now was simply staring ahead of Ryan, in a futile attempt to avoid eye contact with Ryan.
Ryan was also avoiding eye contact, so it wasn't a hard task to do, before actually dismissing himself. "No problem... Well, I won't interrupt you any longer, I should head back."
Brendon chuckled, and Ryan took it as a way of saying he wasn't interrupting anything. But Ryan was, Brendon had to go to work, and he was there as a sort of impediment. "Okay, bye! And for the hundredth time, thank you."
"Bye." Ryan voiced out right before turning around and going back to where he had come from, the confines of his apartment, trying not to look back. But when he failed at it, Ryan caught a glimpse of Brendon still at his doorway, staring down at the newly filled container — his lips forming a nice, curved upwards, shape.
The boy never stopped smiling, Ryan noted.
Their dynamic kept going like that. After the second time it happened, when Ryan gave Brendon some waffles, which Ryan had taken almost an hour preparing in fear to mess up, Brendon had appeared at Ryan's doorway just a few days later, offering a slice of chocolate cake this time.
It was mostly sweet stuff — cookies, cake, waffles, pancakes. At first Ryan had thought it was because Brendon liked baking, or was just too good at it. But then he thought giving someone cookies was slightly more romantic than showing up with a burger and a bag full of fries to accompany it. Ryan wouldn't mind that — but neither could he deny that Brendon was taking care of the lack of sweetness in his life, ignoring the romantic innuendo...
Ryan had grown slightly more experienced in the kitchen. Even if he just got as far as using the stove and a simple frying pan, not daring to use the oven or a much sophisticated pan. The mini electric one came in handy most of the time.
In terms of baking, Brendon was tremendously better than him. Ryan couldn't deny that, going further than Ryan's attempts to make decent pancakes, or that one time when he tried cinnamon rolls but failed miserably.
Brendon appreciated it all, he hadn't expected anything in return then, nor did he now, but Ryan was there trying to 'repay' him with more food. The boy decided to go along with that, and couldn't miss a beat when he thanked Ryan repeatedly each time — he simply did it to see a smile on Ryan's face.
That was all Brendon needed, being able to make Ryan smile, that toothy grin he grew to love so much, right there on Ryan's thin lips.
One day, a Tuesday night, Brendon appeared at Ryan's door, the darkness of the sky visible through the window and the clock reading something past 10pm. Apart from surprising Ryan, he had baked some muffins Ryan couldn't remember the flavor of, but he was completely sure they tasted heavenly.
Since this one time, Ryan just knew they had fallen into something far from a simple, "hey, I baked this and wanted to share."
Every time Ryan received something from Brendon, whether it was a full on cake, with its frosting and all, or a much rushed oatmeal cookie, he felt all warm and fluffy inside — and he could tell it wasn't the warmth of the desserts what caused it.
Around three or so months later — he wouldn't be exactly sure how time passed if it weren't because he had to work everyday but Sundays, it helped keeping record of each passing week. So, the minute Ryan woke up, and the alarm previously programmed on his phone didn't go off, he knew it was his day off — another week had passed.
He was hungry, but had nothing inside his fridge to prepare a decent enough breakfast — he made a mental note to go out and restock his fridge soon. His mind wandered for a brief moment about Brendon, how he would make something delightful, a handful of cookies, a homey muffin... but Ryan was having none of that.
Ryan had been constantly thinking of Brendon, the image of the cute neighbor flashing at the back of his mind every now and then, and more frequently each time. Ryan knew he couldn't let himself think through it and simply assume things, of what Brendon really meant with his lovely actions, him being so attentive and kind towards Ryan. At the same time though, Ryan knew he was partly right, he had a feeling that told him so.
Going by the latest gift he received, 'gift' meaning another one of Brendon's delicious creations, it had sent a wordless something that managed to clear up Ryan's thoughts, or, made them even more jumbled up.
Underneath the soft, and still warm, slice of pie kept inside the container, Ryan noticed a little note left in there. It was a tiny, bright pink post-it, with some words messily written on the back, facing the plastic surface.
Hope you enjoy it
x
— Love, B
Ryan had been confused throughout the entire day. The word love by itself causing more trouble in him than he'd ever confess to anyone. He read, and reread the small note while he ate the berries flavored pie. It was very simple, and it could be a meaningless, platonic, 'love, B' or, Brendon's sort of signature goodbye — something just screamed at Ryan that it was far from meaningless.
The thing was, Brendon had never left a note before. They didn't need to, because they would see each other personally every time, actually handing away the sweets to that person. It had caught Ryan completely off guard — he thought he had it all under control, but a simple note crumbled up Ryan's newfound confidence. Then again, it could be nothing and Ryan was just desperate to find answers where they weren't.
Blocking all his thoughts, he got dressed automatically in all but an oversized, gray hoodie and a pair of jeans he wore the day before to go to work. Putting on his usual pair of white converse, its shade closer to being an ugly yellow with gray undertones due to the lack of cleaning, Ryan decided to go and have breakfast outside, then he'd buy whatever he needed.
On his way out of his apartment, as he grabbed his keys and made sure he had cash with him, he saw in his peripheral vision a glimpse of bright orange laying down on top of the counter — it made a nice contrast with the creamy, beige color of the kitchen. The plastic object was abnormally close to making itself a home in Ryan's place — and he didn't exactly mind anymore.
Because, much to Ryan's dismay at the beginning, their 'food-interchange thing', took place exclusively in that one container. It had progressively become theirs and not just Brendon's, switching apartments and holding a different type of food each time. Ryan grew past the inner conflict with it — not sure why he had in the first place — and he now loved seeing it, bolts of joy were sent at Ryan every time.
Ryan finally opened the front door, expecting to find no one out of the comfort of their apartments in the early morning, even less a Sunday. The hallway was as deserted as he had imagined, the carpeted floor strangely clean below his feet, it made a soft 'thud' sound with every step he took.
When he turned around the corner, and was about to click the button to call for the elevator — Ryan was in no shape to take the stairs — he heard his name being called in such a familiar way. "Ryan, hey there!"
It was Brendon, smiling as wide as he always did, his voice sounding slightly out of breath. His arms were occupied with some craft-paper bags with groceries inside — yet he had taken the stairs instead of the elevator. Ryan felt embarrassed, he was just about to take the elevator when Brendon had climbed all the way up the tenth floor carrying an extra weight. He decided to ignore it, and smiled at the boy in front of him. "Hi, Brendon."
Brendon took a second to reply, accommodating the bags he was holding that were cutting off his arm's blood flow. Ryan, seeing him struggle in his place, a visible frown on the boy's forehead, made a quick move to help him, stepping in and taking a hold of one of the bags that could fall at any second. "Thanks, man!"
"No problem." The slightly taller boy grinned. Even if Ryan was taller, he wasn't by any means muscler, Brendon's arms didn't look like they could tear apart at any moment — but Ryan thought he could help the boy, hoping that his arms wouldn't give up on him. Ryan nodded his head just a fraction, enough to indicate they could walk to Brendon's apartment and drop all the stuff. "I'll walk with you."
"Sure." Brendon grinned, that sheepish smile that had made itself so known in Ryan's recurrent thoughts, occupying a special place, lighting up Ryan's day every time. Yet, Ryan kept telling himself otherwise — at the very back of his mind though, he knew just how deep he had fallen, his inner self knew better...
They started walking in the direction of Brendon's apartment. The staircase and elevators were around the corner of both their apartments. Ryan's was somewhere in the middle of the string of doors — whereas Brendon was in the same hall, but in the farthest end, his door actually faced the whole corridor, his apartment could be seen as a continuation of it.
When they arrived, Brendon struggled for a bit trying to get his door keys, but he found them shortly after, letting Ryan inside like he was some long-time-known friend and had been there before countless times. Ryan thought for a second if he should simply walk inside, because again, he didn't know Brendon well enough, therefore, he couldn't walk inside his apartment as simple as that.
Brendon started making small talk, not really expecting Ryan to answer in between his words. He took it as a sign to follow Brendon and listen intently to what he had to say about his Sunday morning. Ryan's gaze roamed the space, neatly organized — it seemed there had been thought put into every little detail — Ryan guessed, Brendon just seemed to be a perfectionist guy.
The walls were painted a light blue, with most of the decorations a pale yellow and brown. In comparison to Ryan's own, Brendon had much more things laying around, but somehow, they looked put in place and far from too-much. A bookshelf caught Ryan's eyesight, the emphasis of the whole apartment — it was filled with different books, cd's, vinyls, trip souvenirs, collection figures, and more books; Ryan realized in that moment just how similar they were.
"I didn't expect any visits, so don't mind the mess." Brendon explained as he guided Ryan to the kitchen, where they could drop off the bags, even if it wasn't necessary, Ryan knew his apartment well enough to identify they were built identically. The 'house' wasn't in a mess state, Ryan had figured it was just how Brendon organized stuff, because it didn't look 'messy' at all — he briefly wondered how the apartment looked when it wasn't messy...
Once they dropped everything off, Ryan felt almost uncomfortable being in Brendon's place, having nothing else to do, his hands itching for an easy escape route.
It was the first time Ryan actually walked all the way inside, without staying at the doorway. The mere fact he had immersed himself in Brendon's living space made it more real, like it hadn't been before, but now it was. Brendon was another boy, who lived in an apartment just like Ryan's, with extraordinary baking skills and a giant heart, which made Ryan's own beat so fast and twirl each time he got close to the boy — Ryan wanted to cry or something, it was all real, not a flicker of his imagination, and he still didn't know what to do about it.
Brendon looked at Ryan sympathetically, like he knew exactly what Ryan was thinking. The boy moved to the couch, sitting on the other end of the couch Ryan then sat in, and Brendon started a simple conversation. "Well, now that I dragged you all the way here — which by the way, thank you, I dunno why I took the stairs, daily steps and shit, but whatever... Uhm, anyway, it'd be so rude of me to not invite you something, want some coffee?"
"If you don't mind, sure." Ryan nodded, he was always up for a nice cup of coffee. Brendon stood up and went to the kitchen, leaving Ryan by himself, sitting in the middle of Brendon's space.
"Of course I don't mind, Ry." Brendon answered in return, already out of Ryan's sight for him to see Brendon's facial expression, and for some reason, Ryan didn't find it weird at all that he could imagine it perfectly.
"Wait, you were going somewhere." Brendon stopped in his tracks and stated matter-of-factly, still in the kitchen. He had been just reminded that Ryan was in front of the elevators when they spotted the other one, Ryan had to be going somewhere, and Brendon was possibly interrupting his plans.
"Uhm, yeah and no." Ryan chuckled at Brendon's worrience. "I was just going out for breakfast." Ryan almost laughed again when he told where he was going. He had intended to find a nearby café and buy one, maybe a baguette also, just to not feel guilty of spending his money on something he can totally prepare at home. And there he was, about to have that craved cup of coffee, but, at Brendon's place. Ryan secretly preferred the latter option.
Brendon sighed happily, making an approving sound at the back of his throat. "Ahh, great then! You're lucky — I made burritos for breakfast, would you like to try them out?"
Ryan was in no place to deny Brendon's breakfast offer. He replied quickly, not feeling completely sure of his voice's tone, or, the words he had chosen were the correct ones to answer with. "I'd be more than happy to."
However, Ryan suddenly remembered he was in 'debt' with Brendon. Ryan hadn't returned the container, it remained empty in his place. Then, the small note Brendon had written for him also came to his mind — Love, B — Ryan froze, he had forgotten about that tiny little detail, and he had talked to Brendon like any other day. He didn't want Brendon to believe he was ignoring, using him or something, because he wasn't, Ryan was just — Ryan was acting Ryan-like.
A few minutes later, Brendon was walking out of the small kitchen, setting up the table for two people, two mugs — two things of everything. Ryan made a quick move of standing up and going to help him in whatever Brendon needed, but he got shushed. "Ryan, you're the guest here, let me."
"But I want to help?" Ryan tried, only to receive a 'nope' from Brendon, popping the 'p' for emphasis. "Ok, you win. But next time, you'll be the guest."
That was surely something Ryan couldn't believe he said out loud, the boy flushed all the way to the tips of his ears, half glad that Brendon had returned to the kitchen to grab their plates and mugs filled with the steamy drink. Brendon even found it a bit surprising coming from Ryan, after all, it had been Brendon the one to kick-start things, to make a move everytime.
Although Ryan quickly accepted it, getting past the initial cringe — what was said was said, and if Ryan might have invited Brendon over to his own place, then so be it.
Ryan briefly realized he felt just a tiny bit more confident in himself — a dash of confidence that wasn't there before, now was. Even though Ryan still was shy, he at least could engage in larger conversations without feeling overwhelmed in a few seconds. Ryan thanked Brendon silently, the boy had surely played an important part in the small, yet enormous, achievement.
"Ok, breakfast's here... I present to you, the best burrito you'll ever eat." Brendon announced his entry, proudly carrying with him the food he had prepared earlier. If it had been any other person, Ryan would roll his eyes at such a cocky attitude, but it was Brendon's carefree and playful personality — Ryan smiled shyly, looking down at his hands to avoid Brendon's wandering eyes.
Ryan removed his elbows from the table, allowing Brendon to put a plate in front of him. "It's a family's — a Urie's, recipe. It has too many ingredients to name... find them out by yourself?"
Although Ryan had only and exclusively tasted Brendon's sweet side, Ryan thought it would work the exact same way with salty food. Letting aside Brendon's extravagant words, proclaiming they were the best of the best burritos, Ryan firmly believed he was indeed an awesome cook. He just needed to start eating in order to confirm it.
"Will do." Ryan smiled politely, staring at the plate before him. It layed a perfect shaped burrito, the flour tortilla an amazing beige-ish, burned color. The filling remained unknown, but Ryan didn't doubt it would be as good as he imagined. "Thank you so much. You really shouldn't have bothered."
"Oh, please, Ry." Brendon rolled his eyes, waving a dismissive hand at Ryan — they had had the exact same conversation over and over again. Brendon didn't mind, he enjoyed telling Ryan that he didn't bother and it was completely fine. "You, out of all people, should know already it's no bother."
'You, out of all people'. The words stuck with Ryan. For some reason, he had thought — but he slightly hoped not — Brendon didn't do it just for Ryan. Something like, Brendon baked a cake and then shared it with their other neighbors too. But, he probably didn't, and it really was a Brendon-Ryan thing. "Haha, you're right."
"Of course!" Brendon cheered, taking a bite off his burrito, moaning to himself after. Then, he spoke with a mouthful, using a napkin to cover his mouth — Ryan briefly thought Brendon wouldn't do that normally, but he was doing it in Ryan's presence. "You really should start eating though, it'll get cold."
"Oh, yeah. Sorry." Ryan apologized, smiling the faintest smile he could. When he took the first bite of his breakfast, he couldn't hide how his eyes glazed over slightly — it was really, really good. Brendon was right, it was the best one he ever had, even if he still couldn't figure out what it contained exactly, he loved it.
"Is that a yes? You liked it?" The younger boy asked hopefully, looking at Ryan with big brown eyes. Before Ryan could respond with his infamous playing hard attitude, or, the usual Ryan-like ways, Brendon shushed him, again. "I can see it in your eyes, you liked it!"
The table was small-rounded, and they were sitting in front of each other. The fact that they were face to face, almost, was making Ryan feel so exposed — there would be no way he could hide, because Brendon was there, right before him. And being there, he would notice every reaction, blush, smile... everything.
There was no way Ryan could think of something smart to say, so he gave in, agreeing with Brendon. It was delicious after all, he wouldn't be lying — it was just the fact that Brendon could read him so well already. "Mhm, it's damn good."
"Fuck yeah!" And Brendon cheered once again, smiling wide as ever, as he kept on eating.
The next time they saw each other, it was on Brendon's doorway. Ryan didn't forget, he would 'return the favor' and keep their dynamic going. Reason why he was knocking on Brendon's door with one hand, while the other remained occupied with a container full of cinnamon flavored pudding.
Brendon, different from other times, he took a little longer to open up, and when he did, he looked sleepy and right out of bed — Ryan went red and started apologizing immediately about how he didn't mean to wake him up and that he could always come back some other time. As to what, Brendon laughed softly and laid a hand on Ryan's arm. "You're funny."
"M'not... Anyway, I'm just saying I'm really sorry for showing up this late, waking you." Ryan should have known, it was Tuesday and it was late, at least late for Brendon who worked early in the morning. But he didn't think so at the moment, and now he was handing a few slices of just-out-of-the-oven pudding to Brendon. "But, now that I'm here, I made this."
"Nah, don't worry about it." Brendon shook his head, amused that Ryan kept apologizing in every other way. He took their container from Ryan's hand, and went to open it as he always did. "Aw, thank you, is it... pudding?"
"It is, yeah..." Ryan answered, unsure if it was a good or bad thing. Finding it was the first when Brendon beamed and briefly told Ryan excitedly about how pudding was one of his family traditions — they would often eat it for any occasion, and it had been years since Brendon last had it; since he moved from his childhood home to rent the apartment he now lived in.
It made Brendon so happy, Ryan could tell in the way he talked with so much emotion about his family. Ryan didn't know how to answer though, and stuttered out half an answer. "Oh, I love that. You're welcome, I guess — I mean, uhm, I dunno."
"Thank you, Ryan, really. You just made my day." Brendon breathed out, gazing lovingly at Ryan, and lowering his eyes a few times to look at the freshly baked pudding. And then, out of nowhere he asked. "Can I hug you?"
The question took Ryan off guard even more — Brendon was asking to hug him. First it had been Brendon opening up about his family, which Ryan found incredible in every way. But now the boy was asking for a hug. Ryan quickly nodded, there was no way he could deny such a thing. "Of course, B."
Brendon launched himself at Ryan with a bit too much force, wrapping his slightly shorter arms around Ryan's slim waist. He didn't mind Brendon's eagerness, he just held the boy close to his chest. Brendon's face was tucked into Ryan's neck, making Ryan rest his head on top of Brendon's.
It was the first time they were that close to one another, chest to chest — it felt nice, and so right. Ryan breathed out, feeling content and that usual warmth in the pitch of his stomach made itself present. The hug had already lasted a lot more than any common hug, but Brendon wasn't giving any signs of wanting to let go of Ryan, holding on for dear life.
Without thinking, Ryan moved a little bit to kiss Brendon's dark, silky soft hair — just a tiny, that could easily be classified as meaningless, kiss. But it clearly wasn't, Ryan realized. The boy hummed happily after Ryan had kissed his hair, slowly unwrapping himself from the comfort Ryan offered in his arms.
"Thank you, I really needed it." Brendon smiled sheepishly, eyes squinting cutely on the edges. He was still dangerously close to Ryan, his arms still somewhat hugging Ryan.
"Anytime." Ryan mirrored the smile, feeling electricity run through him where Brendon touched the skin. And before completely letting go of Brendon, his eyes asked for permission before leaning down to plant a soft kiss on Brendon's temple, and another on the bridge of his nose.
He could have gone for the lips, but he refrained. Not because he didn't want to, he'd love to, he just thought it'd be better. After all, it held more meaning for him, a sweet kiss on the temple than one on the lips — it felt more intimate and genuine.
Because they were. Ryan's feelings for Brendon were genuine. That small moment they shared confirmed Ryan's thoughts, he had fallen. He fell under the spell of Brendon's sweet eyes, giant heart and charming aura. He had fallen for Brendon.
Once Brendon had settled down on the couch, a very much needed cup of hot cocoa in his hand, he retrieved the small container to eat the pudding Ryan had so kindly given to him. Instead of going back to sleep, Brendon decided to eat it at that moment, it was still warm after all — and everything tasted better right out of the oven.
Brendon had a random movie playing on the tv, eating spoonfuls of pudding and drinking the hot cocoa at the time. In Brendon's opinion, that had been, by far, the most delightful thing Ryan had prepared.
When Brendon reached the bottom of the container, almost done with the whole thing, he caught a glimpse of bright orange. And it wasn't the lid on top of the coffee table, it was a piece of paper lying underneath the pastry.
He remembered doing the same thing just days prior, writing something on a tiny note facing the surface. It read:
I'm true to my word... Would you like to come over some time? I'll make dinner
:)
— Love, Ryan
xx
Brendon smiled, of course he would go.