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He's drinking again.
At first it was cute.
"And now, tonight we're going to do something special for you guys!" The crowd of mostly teenage girls goes wild and Dallon grins, because he knows exactly what most of them are thinking. Brendon just laughs.
"Calm down you filthy perverts." He growls softly into the mic, soon as the noise has died down.
They roar again and Brendon basks in it, throwing his arms out, as if catching their praise. Still beaming he slowly saunters across the stage, towards Ian. Dallon does his best to hide his disappointment.
"Hey Ian." Brendon comes to rest one long arm on his tiny shoulders.
"Yeah Brendon?" Ian asks into his mic.
"You know Hot Mess?"
Ian's reply of "By Cobra?" gets drowned out in teenage screams.
Brendon grins wickedly and goes back to center stage. The crowd falls silent for him. "You know, once upon a time..." his voice is low and throaty. Dallon tries to pretend it's not affecting him, but he can see Spencer laughing at him and knows he's not doing a great job.
"A long time ago, I have no idea what fucking year, I slept with the man behind this song...GABE SAPORTA!" The crowd goes nuts, but quiets when Spencer speaks from his drum mic. "I keep telling you that didn't happen Brendon." He's teasing and Brendon takes the bait.
"Lies! I totally, and completely had sex with Gabe Saporta, AND WAS FUCKING FANTASTIC!" There's so much screaming Dallon is sure his ears will bleed. He can't help but feel a little hurt, because even when Brendon's using him as a sex toy on stage their screams don't get that loud.
Besides, who hasn't slept with Gabe?
At the start of the drinking he's not out of control, just louder, more spastic, and his clothes come off frequently. The crowd loves it.
By the time they start their UK mini tour, it stops being cute.
"Thank you Texas!" Brendon screams at the end of the show on their second night.
"Manchester!" Spencer and Dallon both shout out at the same time, hoping to drown him out.
The crowd is confused but still cheers anyways. Dallon just is grateful that British people are just as nice as everyone says, and they're not touring in Canada where everyone is actually much meaner than people say.
Brendon begins to stumble off stage left and Dallon makes a frantic hand gesture to Ian, who catches it and nods sharply.
Just as he's stumbling further and further down towards the ground Ian is suddenly under his arm as a crutch. Spencer gives Dallon a look, and he runs to help rush him off stage. Dallon's soon at Brendon's side, and Spencer's assuring the crowd that everything is alright and it was a great show. It was a venue that didn't allow cameras, but Dallon's still going to be hunting down footage of Brendon's stumble tomorrow, just in case.
Patrick is waiting anxiously in the wings. "Brendon are you okay? What the hell did you drink?"
The trio of Ian, Brendon, and Dallon only make it two more steps before Brendon pukes violently all over Patrick's shoes.
"I guess that's your answer." Spencer appears, glaring at Brendon.
Dallon begins tenderly brushing Brendon's hair back. "I feel like shit."
"Of course you do you drank out every bar in Manchester," Spencer snaps and offers the towel around his neck to Patrick, "And for god sake's stop babying him Dallon, he's nearly 30 years old."
"I'm only 24 asshole," Brendon coughs out.
Patrick grimly begins to wipe the puke off his shoes.
"Yeah but I feel like I'm in high school again," Ian jokes, still supporting Brendon's right half, earning a laugh from Patrick. The tension fades a little and Spencer's on the verge of smiling when Brendon heaves forward again and a combination of alcohol, salsa, nachos and something pink splatter out on Spencer's knees, shins and shoes.
Spencer's definitely not about to smile.
#
The next night Brendon's not suffering from a hangover, because he's drunk again. Patrick isn't waiting in the wings this time. Dallon tries desperately to not baby Brendon, so he lets him wander backstage after the show, half hoping Zack is following him around. Spencer's not mad still because Spencer can't stay mad, so the other three end up in his dressing room, talking about anything but Brendon. The show, the weather, and the British prostitute they met yesterday, all come up before there's signs of trouble.
"I can't get over how nice everyone is here! Even the hooker!" Ian chirps taking a swing from his beer bottle.
"You should live here, you could be an extremely nice hooker," Dallon shoots back. He can't relax, but he can fake it.
Spencer laughs at both of them and sips his beer. None of them say it, but it's the first time in a long one of them isn't babysitting Brendon, attempting to wean him from the alcohol, and then cleaning up when they fail.
In the comfortable silence that settles Dallon swears he can hear Patrick yelling. Patrick does not yell. Not at any of them, even on a bad day. He's just ridiculously good.
"Is that...?" Ian doesn't need to finish.
"Dammit Brendon!" Spencer slams down his beer bottle and storms out.
Dallon's up and after him before he can see Ian's reaction.
He hears the voices the minute they hit the hallway.
"Shut up! Don't fucking say another word!"
"Awww you're trying to defend him. How cute."
There's venom in Brendon's voice and Dallon nearly stops where he is. In all the time he's known Brendon he's heard him sound everything but cruel.
"Don't Brendon." Patrick's voice is quiet and they only hear him because Spencer slams the door to Patrick's dressing room open. Patrick is frozen stiff and awkward, glaring down steadily at Brendon. The brat is sitting with his legs crossed, smirking up at Patrick. They don't even notice the new arrivals.
"Just admit it," Brendon seethes, "You went off on your own and abandoned him. Now he's nothing but a washed up weirdo who's all alone."
Patrick's shaking and Dallon's pretty sure he's going to punch Brendon right in his gigantic nose. He looks at Spencer, but he seems just as likely to rip Brendon to shreds.
"Whoa whoa whoa! What's happening here?" Ian squeezes in between Dallon and Spencer.
Patrick looks over at the three, then back at Brendon, who's just calmly staring at Dallon.
"He didn't mean it," Dallon blurts out, "He's just a huge fucking idiot when he drinks." Brendon smirks at Dallon's attempt to save him.
Patrick steps back, "I know," he looks at Brendon and says gently, "You're an asshole."
Spencer jumps in before Brendon can say a word, "Yes he is. I'm sorry. We'll get him out of here." Patrick nods and steps away into the corner of the room, anxiously tugging on his hair.
In two easy strides Dallon is looming over the now silent Brendon. He grabs him by the collar and hauls him off, Ian trailing behind.
In the hallway they hear, "You know it's not true, right?"
"I thin
k....I think he might be right. I really fucked up." Patrick's broken voice is the last thing Dallon hears before he steps out into the cold air with his tiniest friend, and his stupidest. On top of everything the stupid one is singing Northern Downpour and has begun to cry.
#
The next morning Brendon is incredibly hungover, but Spencer and Dallon force him up the morning, make him take a shower and then reward him with coffee.
"Where's Patrick?" Brendon thinks to ask when they're eating breakfast, all four of them crammed at a tiny table in the back of the hotel's greasy restaurant.
"Do you remember what you said last night?" Spencer asks darkly.
Brendon shakes his head, "All I remember is Dallon giving me a fantastic blowjob in the venue's bathroom."
Dallon groans and Ian's eyes go wide. "Don't say shit like that, they'll think you're serious."
Brendon chuckles to himself, stopping when he sees Spencer's face.
"Would it really be that bad if Dallon gave me a blowjob? Mormons are good at that kind of thing."
Dallon groans softly again, burying his face in shame on the table.
"You started talking to Patrick."
"And, what'd I say?" Brendon asks more seriously, slowly chewing his waffles.
"You said some shit about Pete...and you blamed him for it." Spencer's eyes are dark. Everyone's protective of Patrick, and most people won't even ask about what happened with Pete.
Brendon forces a swallow. "Oh."
"He took it really seriously." Dallon remembers hearing the guilt and pain when he overheard Patrick last night.
Brendon waves a hand flippantly at Spencer's comment, "He should know better than to take me seriously when I'm drunk."
"It's Patrick! He's always listened to you! And Pete! He was the one who discovered us! He's the reason we're here right now!" Spencer's getting loud, and the other people are starting to stare.
Brendon freezes. "I know."
Spencer doesn't move his intense gaze.
"And I'm sorry," Brendon adds.
Spencer snaps back in his seat, "Talk to him."
"Okay mom," Brendon jokes trying to keep it light. They spend the rest of the meal in silence.
#
"So how'd it go?" Dallon falls in step beside Brendon, carrying his bass. He's finally talking to a sober Brendon and the change is calming.
"We're good," Brendon replies cheerfully, for some reason wearing an awful lilac hoodie that Dallon knows is ancient.
"Good. I wanna know all the details, so let's talk after the show." Dallon throws his shoulder strap on, as Brendon peels off the hoodie.
Brendon stops him, and leans in close, just feet away from the stage, "Let's go out there and make them scream." his voice is husky, and low.
Or, at least, Dallon's pretty sure he's not drunk.
#
After the show they're walking back to the dressing room they all have to share, and Brendon fills Dallon in. Behind them Spencer and Ian chat and pretend they're not eavesdropping.
"First off, I bought him flowers."
"You didn't."
"I did!" Brendon grins hugely at Dallon.
"What kind?"
"Orange ones."
"What flower is orange?" Dallon has never bought orange flowers for his wife. Patrick, however, is not Brendon's wife. Pete would not like that.
"Tiger Lilies. Duh." Brendon pushes him playfully and Dallon actually stumbles, despite years of having lanky legs and big feet. He catches himself on the wall, and pushes himself back up to his original height.
"Who's drunk now," teases Brendon.
In reply Dallon stealthily sticks out a foot and sends Brendon sprawling on the ground. Brendon shrieks and Dallon calmly he steps over him, Spencer and Ian following behind him, stepping cleanly over Brendon's body, ignoring his steady stream of swearing.
Patrick's relaxing in the dressing room, so the three of them quickly rush over to the flowers, cooing and poking them.
"Don't wreck them," Patrick warns, laughing.
Brendon appears in the doorway, scorned and grumpy, stomping over to Patrick and promptly sitting down on his lap.
"Um, Brendon."
"Look, Patrick, you're going to have to join the band, because I need someone to sex up on stage besides the midget." Ian smirks, but says nothing.
Patrick shifts uncomfortably underneath him, "You have the giant too, remember?" he smiles at Dallon.
Brendon crosses his legs to match his arms, "Nope. As of today I'm kicking that freak out, because he humiliated me in front of the band."
"Brendon, darling, won't you please forgive me for the horrible crime I've committed against you?" Dallon asks dryly, crossing the room and sitting on the couch beside them.
Everyone laughs and settles down, spreading out in the small room.
"Speaking of band members," Brendon is abruptly serious, moving to sit down on the couch next to Ian, and running a hand through his hair. He's interview Brendon; charismatic, funny, attractive, flirty. He wants something.
He faces Ian head on, "I know we haven't really talked about it, but I think you've been a really good fit for this band, and I don't think Spencer, or Dallon, will mind me asking you to, officially, join this band." Brendon's all smiles and grace, the entire speech delivered with impressive modesty. Dallon wasn't even aware he was a part of the band, officially, though.
Ian looks nervous, "That's so cool Brendon, and I would love to, really but I think right now...I just have go on my own, see if I can make music by myself."
"Oh, okay." Brendon looks dejected to the point that Dallon feels the instinct to comfort him, but he fights it. Spencer doesn't seem hurt, just a little sad. Dallon always knew Ian wasn't permanent.
"It's nothing personal. I just gotta do this." Ian stands and offers Brendon a hand, "We cool?"
Brendon smiles up at him, and pulls him down on his lap for a hug.
"Only if you admit that I slept with Gabe!" Brendon teases in a sing song voice, squeezing Ian tightly.
"Never! Never!" Ian squeals squirming away, carrying on Spencer's teasing.
"Let him go Bren," Spencer chides, grinning at the both of them.
Brendon releases Ian, who stays nearly on top of him anyways, then finishes telling them how he won Patrick's forgiveness, with protests from Patrick when he "embellishes for dramatic effect".
Ian stays quiet and plays with Brendon's hair, occasionally snuggling into his shoulder or flopping his big head on Brendon's chest. Brendon wraps an arm around Ian's waist and keeps him close.
Outside the dressing room after Dallon walks at the back of the group with Brendon.
"Since when am I in the band?" Dallon asks curiously.
Brendon lifts his head up, and Dallon is surprised by how sad he looks, "Since I decided you need to be."
#
It's getting messy on stage by the sixth night.
Brendon's pushing, like he always does, but harder. He's at him again and again spending entire songs grinding and writhing against him, and Dallon's definitely not complaining. Hell, after an entire song apart he went after him. Brendon was caught off guard, but very encouraging. He even teases Brendon out of his shirt, and gets a stern glare from Spencer.
Dallon's seen the old fan videos; Ryan and Brendon were all push and pull, running away and then colliding with sparks. Brendon's not used to this kind of behaviour on stage, and Dallon most likely gave him the wrong idea.
After he's in his dressing room about ready to scream from a number of things, one of them definitely not being sexual frustration, when he hears footsteps.
"Hey Dallon," Brendon purrs, swinging open the door.
"Ever heard of knocking?"
"You have such unimaginative things to say."
Brendon slowly walks behind Dallon, his finger running along his shoulders, brushing at all the sensitive places on Dallon's neck in one go. He slinks down in his chair, suppressing a groan between his lips.
Brendon comes full circle in front of Dallon's chair. "Tonight was fun, wasn't it?" He saunters closer.
"Yep." Inhale, exhale. Brendon's knees push against Dallon's, and Dallon fights to remain quiet. Smirking Brendon widens his legs, grabs onto the chair's armrests, and pulls himself into Dallon's lap.
"What are you doing?" Dallon's voice is shaking and Brendon's hips are tauntingly inches above him.
Slowly Brendon lowers himself, wrapping his arms around Dallon's neck. "Just having fun." And with one smooth grind Dallon's at his mercy, moaning and pulling at his clothes.
Eyes feverish Brendon pulls off his v-neck and then fumbles with Dallon's button down. Dallon's hands gravitate to Brendon's hips and pull him closer, swearing softly. Brendon gives one last tug and pulls Dallon's shirt clean off, leaving him exposed. Immediately Brendon dives in, licking him from his hips to his collarbone, and stopping there to bite.
"Oh for fuck's sake Brendon," Dallon moans, pulling Brendon forward and pushing their chests together, sticking where Brendon marked him.
He smiles smugly and rests his forehead against Dallon's. "Just getting started kid."
It's with their close proximity that the smell of alcohol hits Dallon full force, and he shoves Brendon off. He tumbles to the carpet, and looks so betrayed that Dallon instinctively reaches out, then pulls his hand back, shaking. The cold strip of skin where Brendon licked feels like it's burning.
It's wrong. Because Brendon's drunk, and because Dallon's not in love with him, and because Brendon's still in love with someone else.
"What was that?" he stumbles trying to get up , and Dallon leaps up and pulls him off the floor.
He says nothing, just steadies him, then finds their shirts. After nearly forcing Brendon's back on, he occupies himself with buttoning his own up.
"You know I have a wife," Dallon says, breaking the silence, fumbling with the buttons. Not that she was on his mind.
Brendon's eyes flick up from the ground, unashamed.
"And you have Sarah," he adds. Brendon's response is a bitter laugh, breaking in the still room. He doesn't need to say anything, Dallon knows how ridiculous the statement is.
Slowly Brendon turns on his heel towards the door.
"You should call him." The words leave Dallon's mouth before he can stop them.
Brendon's fists are clenched when he walks out the door, and Dallon can hear jagged mutterings of damn Northern Downpour.
#
"I feel responsible."
"It's not your fault." Dallon sighs and pulls his coffee closer to him, "He would have gotten drunk to celebrate if you said yes to being in the band."
Ian ducks his head, "Yeah but then he probably wouldn't've ended up trying to seduce you, and then spent three hours singing to himself in the bathroom."
"I'm the one who rejected him." Dallon runs his fingers along the side of the mug, refusing to make eye contact.
"Hey." Ian pulls Dallon's coffee by the handle, bringing his eyes with it, "It's not your fault. You did the right thing."
Dallon nods, allowing brief eye contact before he pulls his coffee close and goes back to staring at it.
The diner's bell dings and they both look up. Spencer's entering, with a firm hand on Brendon's arm.
"Hey guys, how fantastic to see you," Brendon mutters sarcastically.
Spencer pushes Brendon next to Ian and sits next to Dallon. Dallon can practically feel Spencer's anger coming off him in waves, and moves a little closer to the wall.
Ian just shifts uncomfortably next to Brendon, clearly not the only one unhappy with the seating arrangement.
A insufferable silence falls and Dallon starts talking before he starts thinking, "I'm sorry Brendon. Really, really sorry."
"What the hell do you have to be sorry for?" Spencer turns to face him. Brendon's looking at the table.
A heavy silence falls before Ian starts talking about how excited he is for the show tonight, and Spencer lets him bullshit them for a few minutes before he interrupts, sounding somber, "I don't want there to be secrets."
Ian goes quiet and wraps himself around his coffee mug. Brendon makes the mammoth effort of lifting his head up and stares steadily at Dallon, "I tried to screw Dallon, but he thinks he's too good for me."
Spencer's eyebrows go way up and Dallon guesses that he probably wasn't expecting that.
"You know I don't think that." Dallon reaches across the table, for what he doesn't know, but all he gets is a cold glare.
"Just stop fucking lying to yourself. You like men and you want to fuck them and you're pretty fucking gay."
Dallon feels like he's been slapped, "I'm not homophobic."
"No, you're just in denial."
"That's not why I didn't sleep with you."
"Then why?" Brendon leers across the table, "We both know you wanted to."
Dallon sighs and stares down at his coffee. "Because we're not in love."
Brendon actually has the nerve to laugh at that and Dallon winces, but doesn't look up.
"Love and sex aren't the same thing."
"They used to be," Spencer speaks up, "for you."
Dallon looks up, jolted at the reminder of his other two bandmates. Seeing the look on Brendon and Spencers' faces he knows he's talking about Him.
"Yeah. And look where that got me." Brendon's voice is rough with emotion and Dallon's sure he's fighting back tears when he stomps away from their table.
"That was low," Dallon comments after the slam of the diner's door.
Spencer sighs and reaches for Ian's coffee, chugging most of it before he can protest.
"But it's true. They were in love."
#
On their last night Ian smiles and bats his eyelashes till Brendon agrees not to drink. It's a near perfect show, and afterwards the whole band and Patrick gather in Foxy Shazam's hotel room and watch lame movies on tv until they fall asleep, two bands and a solo artist sleeping two beds, a couch, and the floor.
Dallon wakes up in the middle of the night, lying on Brendon's foot, snuggling Ian. He's overcome by the urge to push Ian off the bed the three of them are on, but then he hears talking.
"Just shut up for a second! Let me talk..." Dallon lifts his head and sees Patrick tucked into the open coat closet by the door, whispering into his phone.
"Okay, thanks. I just wanted to say...yeah...shut up, just let me think asshole..." there's a lengthy pause. Dallon's too engrossed to feel bad about eavesdropping. He tilts his head forward, attempting to hear over Ian's wild jungle of hair.
"...I'm sorry. I'm so sorry...For everything...No I think it's good we did our own thing...I mean I..." Patrick's talking to Pete, and at the realization Dallon drops his head and closes his eyes, but he still hears Patrick's words.
"For us...No not like that. I'm sorry I wrecked it. You were the best thing that ever happened to me." Dallon feels immense guilt coming on. He shouldn't be listening to this.
More silence for a long time. Dallon sneaks a peek over Ian and sees Patrick smiling tenderly, cradling the phone.
"So you forgive me?" Patrick's voice is so soft and hopeful that Dallon finally understands why everyone is always trying to shield him. He ducks his head back down, eyes screwed shut.
Patrick lets out a shaky breath. "It's so good to hear you say that. You have no idea." and then, "Don't you dare say that...I'm serious. Wait till I'm with you, when you won't be able to say because I'll be too busy screaming it from the rooftops." Patrick's voice has turned happy and full and it's the prettiest thing Dallon's heard in a long time.
"Now. I'm leaving now....Yeah I'm serious! I'm catching the next damn flight out of here!...I miss you too. So much...Soon." On that final word Patrick hangs up, Dallon is pretty sure he springs up from the closet, and then there's weight on the bed.
"Brendon, Brendon! Wake up!" Patrick's violently shaking his pillow, Dallon holds his breath, so scared he'll get caught.
"Wha, what?"
"I have to go!" Patrick's excited whisper seems to awaken Brendon.
"Where? Now?" Dallon feels Brendon's leg shift underneath his skull.
"To Pete. And yeah now! I've waited...so long. Too long." Dallon can practically see Brendon's sleepy head nod.
"That's awesome Patrick. Go to him." Brendon sounds proud.
"It's thanks to you. So, thank you." Patrick's definitely smiling, and then the weight is gone and he can just hear frantic footsteps. Patrick opens the door and the light burns against Dallon's eyelids.
He hesitates at the doorway. "Call him Brendon. He misses you." The door is shut and Patrick is gone.
In the quiet Brendon begins to recite the lyrics, like a poem, or an obituary. "Just melt your headaches, call it-" his voice sounds strangled and Dallon knows there's tears threatening to emerge.
"H-home."
#
The tour ends, and Brendon seems fine. Dallon goes back to his own life, with his wife and kids and faith and music, with Spencer around Brendon all the time, so Dallon doesn't worry. Most of the time. Really everything's fine.
Until Brendon's goddamn birthday.
Spencer calls him at eight, and Dallon gets there by eight seventeen.
Brendon's clothed in only dress pants and suspenders, and when Spencer answers the door he's got Brendon's wrists in his hands.
"Please, come in," Spencer mutters darkly, dragging Brendon off without further explanation. Dallon follows, quickly catching up. Brendon's absolutely silent, lips in a stubborn line, not looking at anyone.
Spencer stops at the living room, and Dallon steps back in shock when he sees the damage. There's debris of an acoustic guitar all over the floor, several piano keys are crunching underneath their feet and Panic albums, merch, and music sheets lay in shreds on every surface.
"Who did this?" Brendon's heavy breathing fills the room.
Spencer turns the both of them around. "Him." he points with the hand not handcuffing Brendon.
"You destroyed a guitar? And a piano?" Brendon's whole life is his music, and his instruments and Dallon's considering cocaine as the only logical reason for the destruction.
Brendon doesn't even look guilty.
"Why? What the hell happened?" Spencer sighs, and loosens his grip enough that Brendon slumps to the floor.
"He didn't call. He didn't text. He didn't even fucking tweet me." The bitter tone should have given it away, but it still takes Dallon a couple seconds to realize he's talking about Ryan Fucking Ross.
Dallon kneels so he's not looming over Brendon more than usual. "You did all this just because he forgot your birthday?"
Brendon shrugs, looking at the carpet. "I had to purge. Get rid of him. I wanted to forget about him." He traces his finger along a lone piano key. "Didn't work."
Spencer goes down with them and for a while the three of them just sit, Spencer absentmindedly piecing together a copy of Fever, while Dallon just stares at Brendon, and Brendon stares at the piano key.
A few hours later the whole mess is cleaned up, mostly, and the piano repair technician has been called, and the guitar has been burned, and Brandon is wrapped in blankets on the couch in a fitful sleep.
Dallon's itching to call Ryan and scream bloody murder, but sixteen minutes after midnight, the phone rings.
Spencer gets up to answer it, but Dallon is out of his chair in an instant, next to the phone by the second ring.
"Don't answer Dallon, just let me." Spencer sounds tired, with no fight left in him. Brendon's sleeping on the couch, and has no doubt fought enough for one day. Dallon's bursting with fight.
He snaps the phone up.
"Hello?" Ryan's voice is so mature and strong that Dallon's thrown off for a moment. He was expecting the kid with eyeliner and stupid hats from the Circus tour.
"Hi." He doesn't try to sound like a pissed off soccer dad, but it'll work.
"Oh. Dallon." Ryan doesn't sound surprised, just hurt.
"Don't pout Ross. Me and Brendon aren't sleeping together." Spencer's watching at the other end of the kitchen, skeptical.
There's obvious relief in Ryan's voice when he protests, "Brendon can sleep with whoever he wants."
Rolling his eyes, Dallon turns away from Spencer's gaze, and Brendon fighting nightmares. "Why'd you call?"
"It's his birthday."
"You're sixteen minutes late."
"Time change and all that. Hard to keep track of."
"Don't bullshit me." Dallon's never this forward with people he barely knows, but he feels as if he knows Ryan very well, as if he's been running Dallon's life for the past year and a half.
There's some shuffling on Ryan's end. "I was scared. Or nervous. Or something."
The lame excuse pisses Dallon off further and grinds his heel against the floor, longing for something to kick. "Well thanks to your nerves he went into a drunken rage and nearly destroyed his living room."
Ryan's breathing does a sharp intake. "He didn't."
"He did."
"Fuck."
"Mhmm." There's silence for a while, as Dallon drags his foot across the tile in an attempt to calm down.
"Have you been taking care of him?" Ryan's timid voice breaks the habit.
"What?"
"Brendon sometimes needs to be taken care of. Are you taking care of him?" Ryan sounds younger now, like the kid who gave up everything for his band.
Dallon shuts his eyes and nods, forgetting Ryan can't see him. "I've been trying. But he would rather have you."
Dallon hangs up and sinks down the wall. Spencer wanders over, still tired, still out of fight.
"That was rather melodramatic," Spencer comments.
"What?"
"Your little flop onto the floor." Dallon nods, looking at the black and white patterned tiles.
"You don't have to do this Dallon, you don't owe him anything." Spencer adds softly.
Dallon shakes his head. "Way too late for that now. I can't back out." Spencer smiles in understanding, pulls him up and gets them both to the living room. They collapse in separate chairs, on either side of Brendon.
#
Brendon spends most of his morning puking his guts out in the bathroom. Despite how disgusting and sad it is, Dallon spends most of his morning right next to him, combing his hair back from his forehead and listening to him muttering.
Spencer makes a breakfast of coffee and advil that gets downed quickly by all three of them. Jon, worried about Brendon, calls shortly later and Spencer tucks himself away upstairs with the phone.
"This band should be called Babysitting Brendon," Brendon begins to ramble soon as Spencer is gone, " And once you're in, you can never really get out. Like a cult."
"Jon's just worried about you." Dallon continues with the soft sweeping back of Brendon's hair.
"That and him and Spencer used to fuck."
Dallon's jaw is practically on the floor. "Seriously?!"
Brendon laughs. "Yeah people didn't really notice because of me and...him." he slumps further against the bathtub, and then suddenly bolts up, and starts emptying his stomach into the toilet again. Dallon quickly adjusts so he's kneeling next to him and can keep his hair out of his eyes, and his glasses on his face.
Finished, Brendon backs away shaking and slams the lid down. He's wincing like he's in pain and won't look at Dallon.
"Brendon, look at me, what's wrong?" Dallon tries to turn Brendon's face towards him.
"Nothing." he pulls his jaw from Dallon's grasp. "Just thank you for being here. I should tell you to go, but I need you here."
Smiling sadly Dallon pulls the smaller man to his chest, holding him tightly. "I won't ever not be there when you need me, okay?"
Brendon looks up nods, "Okay."
He's so childlike and innocent that it breaks Dallon's heart. He may be using the softest touch with Brendon right now, but if Ryan were in the room he'd be getting a strong punch to the face.
The doorbell rings and Brendon wiggles away. "You should get that. It might be Patrick. Or Pete. Or both." he smiles ruefully.
Dallon pulls himself, bones cracking into place after being folded up all morning and hurries to the door. If it's Patrick he'll probably be able to help, same with Pete, but if it's the two of them together it'll just sting Brendon more. The walk to the entrance is accompanied by a quick prayer that it's anyone but the happy couple.
He swings the door open, and there in a sunglasses and skinny jeans, with a fucking jean jacket on, is the George Ryan Ross. Who the fuck wears a jean jacket anymore. He hates the hipster more already. Dallon steps forward, and looms, glaring down at Ryan. His fingers twitch into the makings of a fist.
"Um, hi." Ryan nearly squeaks. Dallon is pleased.
"Why are you here?"
Ryan takes off the sunglasses and pulls himself up to his full height, attempting to look Dallon right in the eye. "I fucked up. I came here to fix it."
Impressed, Dallon backs off a bit. "I don't know if that's a good idea. I don't know if he'll want to see you..." all he can think of is Brendon, broken, and sad, smiling up at Dallon like he's a knight in shining armor.
Ryan slouches a little. "I know. And I know my timing is terrible, and I'm terrible, and I should have been here months ago, or yesterday at least, but.." Dallon waits.
"I wasn't. I wasn't here... I can't change that, so I need to fix it." Ryan looks up at Dallon with pleading eyes.
He hesitates. "Okay...just let me warn him or something."
Ryan's eyes light up, but he maintains composure, nodding calmly before following Dallon. He's so close he's practically a shadow, and in the kitchen Dallon stops short and whips around.
"Okay, look, today as been a bad day, and he's hungover, and just wait here for a second, until I call you or something, then you can come," he whispers so Brendon doesn't hear. Ryan nods again and sits down at the table, fiddling with his sunglasses, his whole body humming with nerves.
The walk to the bathroom feels a mile long, but Dallon's still not ready when he gets there and sees Brendon pathetically slumped against the bathtub, still in ratty old pj pants and greasy white shirt.
He rolls his head up to look at Dallon. "So, who is it? Patrick? Pete? William?"
Dallon bravely opens his mouth and starts to explain. "Actually it wasn't any of those people, and you have to stay calm when I tell you this, but it was Ry-"
"Brendon?" Dallon spins around to see Ryan peeking over him from the shadows of the hallway. Stupid fucking hipster in a jean jacket who doesn't listen.
"Ryan!" Brendon panics, and pushes himself off the floor. "What the hell are you doing here?" he's not as mad as he should be, and a lot more ashamed than Dallon thought he'd be.
Ryan's eyes roam Brendon's body; the dirty clothes, the crooked glasses, the layer of sweat, the greasy hair. "What happened?" he asks softly.
Brendon shrugs, trying to be nonchalant. "You've seen me worse."
Ryan's eyes make it to Brendon's face. "Yeah, but it hasn't been my fault for a while." his voice gets choked up.
Brendon sighs. "Don't freak out Ryan. I just overreacted. Drama queen, remember?"
Ryan looks hopeless and lost, fiddling with his glasses. "I'm sorry Brendon."
He shrugs again. "Not your fault. I'm a horrible drunk lately. Just ask Dallon." he fakes a laugh and looks at Dallon almost desperately. Dallon can't bring himself to fake anything. He just stares.
Ryan winces at the words, and Dallon remembers the interviews where Ryan talked about his alcoholic dad.
Brendon moves a little closer, then steps back again. "Don't worry about me, okay Ryan? I'm doing fine. It was just one night."
Everyone in the room knows it's a blatant lie, and everyone chokes it down anyways. Quiet falls, and Dallon starts counting floor titles so he won't punch Ryan in his sad little face. Finally he speaks up.
"Sorry I was late. Happy Birthday." Ryan moves forward to hug Brendon, grime and all, pulling away before Brendon can reciprocate. He sets a box down on the counter and then flees, the empty clack, clack, clack of his boots echoing before the door opens and squeaks closed, leaving them in unbearable silence.
Brendon gazes down at the box, and with shaking hands he reaches out for it, curling his fingers around it and clenching it too tightly.
It's a purple box, with a lid and a little ribbon around it. Brendon toys with the ribbon before lifting off the lid and tossing it onto the counter. He face goes pale when he sees the contents.
"What is it?" Dallon asks, whispering.
Brendon shuts his eyes tightly and shakes his head, like the present stings.
Carefully Dallon reaches over and peels back Brendon's fingers from the box. They're stiff, but Brendon doesn't fight him.
With the box laying in Brendon's flat, and shaking, palm Dallon looks closely, but all he sees is a plain white guitar pick.
"It was kind of an inside joke," Brendon's voice is rough with emotion. Dallon looks up at him.
"We would always say that if Patrick and Pete, or William and Gabe got their act together, and someone proposed, that they wouldn't do it with a ring..." he trails off, and starts again, "Music is their, our, whole lives, it's what brought everyone together. So, we joked, that if in one of the couples within the label proposed, they would do with guitar picks...." Brendon's voice cracks, and Dallon can see the tears threatening to fall, "So, I just don't know...what he's trying to say...or why he would do this to me..."
Dallon cuts him off, folding him in his arms. Brendon goes limp and his head falls against Dallon's shoulder.
"He's a fucking prick," Dallon observes, rubbing soothing circles on Brendon's back.
Brendon laughs weakly. "He really is."
Dallon pulls away and puts one hand on Brendon's shoulder. "I'm sorry about all this Brendon."
Brendon half shrugs. "It's okay. I got you." Dallon feels a little weak at the words.
The sudden, distinct sound of Spencer thundering down the hallway interrupts them. They both turn into the hallway and nearly run into Spencer there.
"Something up?" Brendon asks, eyebrow raised at the excited, sweaty Spencer.
Spencer smiles at him, something that hasn't happened in a long, long time.
"Pete just proposed to Patrick! And he said yes! They're going to get married!"
"Holy shit!" Brendon squeals, incredibly happy despite the irony. He lunges at Spencer for a hug.
Spencer quickly pulls away. "Brendon, I love you. But you smell fucking nasty."
Dallon laughs, for the first time in Brendon's house, while Brendon pouts.
"Who told you?" Dallon asks after he's calmed down.
A faint blush passes over Spencer's cheeks. "Jon."
Brendon's jaw drops. "You're totally going to the wedding with him!"
"Just as friends!"
"You're so gay Spencer Smith. And that's coming from me."
Spencer glowers at him. "Shut up, or I'll tell Jon to stop selling you weed."
"Wait, wait, Pete told Jon before he told you guys?" Dallon's not surprised he didn't know, but Brendon is pretty much Pete's bitch.
Spencer shrugs, "Pete couldn't get a hold of us. I guess no one remembered to charge their phones last night."
"This is going to be really cool." A dreamy look passes over Brendon's face.
Spencer laughs. "I know, I can't believe it's actually happening. I gotta go call them and congratulate them. Want to join me?"
"Definitely. We have to bitch Pete out for forgetting that landlines exist."
"Just let me find my cell first. I'm paranoid that I missed something else important." Spencer turns and starts to walk away, while Brendon stealthily pulls his phone out, "And don't you dare call him without me Brendon!"
"Dammit he knows me well," Brendon complains, sliding his phone back into the elastic of his pants.
"It's dead anyways," Dallon points out, "That's why Ryan called on the landline."
At the mention of Ryan's name Brendon's face falls again, and Dallon feels worse than the time he ran over neighbor's dog with his minivan.
"I'm sorry Brendon I didn't mean to..." Dallon trails off, noticing that the box is still in Brendon's hand.
"Betcha he didn't do it with a guitar pick," Brendon says lightly, staring down at the crumpled box.
Dallon surprises himself by saying, "Not my bet to place."
Forcing a small smile Brendon sets the box down on the windowsill at the end of the hallway.
"Guess not. Wanna be my date for the wedding?" Brendon looks at Dallon with such unashamed hope that Dallon has no choice, really.
"I'd love to."
#
Five months later
Dallon leans awkwardly against the wall of the reception hall, trying to make himself seem smaller. Towering over Pete and Patricks' entire tiny families is worse than towering over most people, and Brendon abandoned him half an hour ago, so it's just him, alone and creepy looking.
He scans the room hoping to find one of the taller guys from the label, or at least Spencer, but instead he sees William Beckett slowly making his way across the room towards him.
Dallon momentarily panics, which is new; it's been a long time since a pretty guy made him freak out, and attempts to compose himself by the time William arrives.
"Hey," William says cheerfully, "You're Dallon right?"
Dallon nods, "Yep, Dallon Weekes, bassist for Panic." he offers his hand.
William laughs and shakes his hand. "I know who you are, it's not like I just looked for the tallest guy in the room and bolted towards him."
Dallon blushes, seeing as he was planning on doing exactly that.
"However," William gets a bit closer, "If you would like to dance, that would be great."
Dallon chuckles a little, taking in the dance floor, all short, mostly heterosexual couples gracefully waltzing together. "We'll certainly stand out."
"Good," William playfully nudges Dallon, "You know you wanna." he turns his big brown eyes on Dallon, still wearing a toothy grin.
Dallon blushes a little again, which William takes as a yes, leading Dallon out to the middle of the dance floor
"I'll have to lead," Dallon warns.
"No problem." William flashes him another sweet smile.
They start waltzing easily enough, and even though they do seem to be towering above everyone else, it's nice, and Dallon pulls William just a little bit closer. He's never danced with a guy, and was expecting a lot more whispers, but this is the wedding of Pete Wentz and Patrick Stump, so homophobic relatives probably stayed at home.
Dallon and William chat easily about their relationships and kids, the difficulties of touring, and the best parts, trading stories about travelling overseas, and the difference between touring solo and with a band.
On the last verse of a dramatic Adele song Dallon hears shouting and instinctively scans the room for Brendon. William freezes up a little under his hands and Dallon looks at his face, then follows his gaze.
Gabe is on the edge of the dancefloor, steadily pushing his way through the crowd, his chin above the tops of everyone else's heads; he's hard to miss. It's embarrassing, but honestly Dallon's just happy to see someone taller than him.
"William!" Gabe calls out, "William! It's been forever buddy, I miss you so much!" he stumbles a little bit right before them, then straightens himself.
"Hi Gabe." William melts, dropping his hands from Dallon. "How are you?"
Gabe shoots a suspicious gaze at Dallon, and then turns William away from him and puts his hands around William's neck.
"Fantastic," he purrs, then leans down to whisper something in William's ear. William's face immediately heats up, and Dallon feels himself going red too, despite that he's not entirely sure of what Gabe is whispering.
Gabe pulls away with a smug smirk on his face, and William turns to Dallon, "Hey I'm really sorry to ditch you, but I uh, have to do something..." Gabe snickers.
Dallon nods rapidly, desperately wanting to go back to his wall and hide, "No problem, go have fun..."
Gabe snickers again and William's face gets redder. Dallon quickly turns and nearly runs back to his wall, the sound of their quick footsteps fading off behind him.
Once actually back at the wall Dallon realizes it's been an hour since he's seen Brendon, which is a very bad thing. He's either drunk or hooking up with someone in the coat closet, possibly both.
He makes his way to the bar first, but Brendon's not there, and the bartender doesn't seem to remember him based on Dallon's description. That's a good sign, but Dallon continues prowling, even checking the coat closet. Twenty minutes later he's got nothing, except for accidentally walking in on Gabe and William, burning horrible, terrifying images into his brain for a long time.
He knows exactly what Gabe was whispering to William.
Dallon's seriously considering his first drink in a long time, feet moving towards the bar without thinking. When he gets there he's next to a smartly dressed man with brown hair, and oh god...
Ryan jumps a little when he turns and sees Dallon. "Oh, hello."
Dallon swallows nervously. "Hi."
"Didn't know you drank." Ryan twists so he's leaning on his side, and facing Dallon head on.
Dallon taps his fingers on the bar's counter. "I don't really." Ryan nods.
They suffer in silence for a while before Dallon blurts it out, "Why'd you give Brendon that guitar pick if...if it kind of meant something to you guys."
Ryan looks taken back. "I don't know..." he trails off at a loss, "I just wanted to give him something really amazing, and surprise him at his house the day before, and take him out to dinner and just fix...everything." his voice goes soft on the last word.
"You wanted him back?" Dallon asks quietly.
Ryan nods. "I think...I think I did..." Dallon moves a little closer to hear him better.
"And now?" he asks seriously.
Ryan backs away. "I'm always going to want him, and I'm always going to screw it up. End of story." he turns back to his drink.
Dallon backs away a little, and then leaves altogether, nearly running in his quest to find Brendon.
He spots him, finally, cozying up with Pete, Patrick, Joe, and Spencer.
"Hey Dallon!" Brendon cheers, waving him over. Dallon breathes a sigh of relief.
"Hey guys."
Everyone choruses greetings back to him, and Brendon urges him to sit.
Dallon shakes his head. "Can't. Gotta talk to you." Brendon sighs dramatically, but gets up.
"Congrats you guys," Dallon thinks to add when they begin to walk away, "This is seriously the most beautiful wedding I've ever been at where I didn't get married." Pete and Patrick both beam at him.
"Thank you Dallon." Patrick says, giving him one last smile before Pete pulls him in for a kiss, earning groans from Spencer and Joe.
Dallon tugs Brendon away to a quieter spot in the hall.
"What is it?" Brendon smiles brightly at Dallon.
"It's Ryan." Brendon's face darkens.
"What about him?"
Dallon shifts a little where he's standing, and looks down right into Brendon's eyes, "Do you still have feelings for him?"
Brendon freezes up. "I...I don't know."
"Well...he's still hung up on you..." Brendon dips his head so he's not looking Dallon in the face. They don't talk, and all Dallon can hear is a sad slow song in the background.
"I don't want to tell you what to do," Dallon says finally, "but I do want you to be happy." Brendon looks up at him and nods.
"I gotta go talk to him," a hesitant smile creeps over Brendon's face.
Dallon nods, "You do. He's at the bar."
Brendon gives him one last smile and then goes skittering off towards the bar. Dallon stays where he is, and watches. Brendon taps Ryan on his shoulder, then offers his hand. Ryan looks uneasy, but takes it, and they walk with their hands joined towards the dance floor. In the midst of the crowd they lightly rest their hands on each other and begin to move with the music.
Dallon spends most of the rest of his night avoiding Gabe and William, chatting with Spencer, and keeping an eye on Brendon and Ryan. They spend the first song without even looking at each other, but by the fifth, Brendon's pulled Ryan close and they're laughing and talking.
"You did that, didn't you?" Spencer asks when him and Dallon are dancing, and Ryan and Brendon whirl by giggling like teenagers.
Dallon remains modest. "They just needed a little shove."
Spencer rolls his eyes, "They always need a little shove, they're the most stubborn people I know."
"Did you have fun with Jon?" Dallon thinks to ask.
Spencer ducks his head a little and smiles, "I really did. It just sucks he had to leave early."
"Yeah you ended up stuck with me."
"Shut up, I didn't mean it like that." Spencer laughs.
"Are you guys...?"
"Not yet. But we're starting over, and I think it might go somewhere." Spencer smiles shyly.
Ryan and Brendons' giggles ring out again. Dallon thinks about how beautiful the idea of starting over really is.
#
Dallon sighs and stretches out his arms, continuing his search for Brendon, for the first time not really worried about where he'll find him. He's likely still in the hall anyways, it's just a huge building and lots of people are walking the exact opposite direction of him. For the first time that night, his height is coming in handy.
Just on the edge of the crowd, he catches them.
Their foreheads are pressed close, and Ryan leans, pulling Brendon's jaw with him, meeting him for a short kiss. When they pull away they're both smiling hugely, and Brendon gives Ryan one last kiss on the cheek, and whispers something in his ear before they part ways, both wearing ridiculous grins.
Dallon meets him in the middle of the dance floor, Ryan slipping out the back exit. "Fun night?" he smirks.
Brendon shoves him gently. "Shut up." he doesn't stop smiling.
"Come on, let's go say bye to Patrick and Pete."
The newlyweds are near the main entrance, and Brendon rushes right over.
"Hey guys, thanks for inviting me." he enthusiastically hugs them both, nearly bowling over Patrick.
"I swear to god Brendon, if you break my brand new husband I'm gonna be pissed," Pete warns.
Spencer walks up, jacket off and tossed over his shoulder. "Yeah thank you so much, it was an amazing night."
"Thank you Spencer." Patrick gently pries Brendon off of him, and goes to hug Spencer.
"It was probably the gayest wedding ever, but I'm glad you had fun," Pete adds, hugging Spencer, then Dallon. Everyone laughs.
When Patrick goes to hug Dallon he stands on his tip toes and whispers in Dallon's ear, "Thank you, for everything." he goes back down on his flat feet, and nods in the direction of Brendon, who's flushed, and giggly, sober, and incredibly happy.
Dallon smiles at Patrick. "Thank you for a great night."
They bid their goodbyes, and are only three feet out of the door of the venue before Brendon's got his cellphone out and is calling Ryan.
Spencer rolls his eyes, but Dallon grins at him, and feels at peace for the first time in a long time.
#
Technically it's Ryan's first solo show. It's not advertised, it's not a real venue, it's just a little coffee shop that hires people to play every Thursday afternoon. Brendon just thinks they're out for coffee, but Spencer and Dallon have intricately planned everything out. The crowd is mostly older people who no doubt have never heard of Panic!, or The Brobecks, so there's no risk of being found by fangirls, and Brendon thinks nothing of it.
Dallon, Spencer, and Brendon all settle down at table, Brendon stretching out to occupy his entire seat, and then some of Dallon's.
"Why are we here?" he eyes the room. Plain dark wood walls, the shortest with heavy red curtains in front, a small stage, and five or six tables of older couples.
Instead of answering Dallon asks, "So are you and Ryan official yet?"
Brendon slumps a little, "No."
"Why not? It's been a month since the wedding, and you see each other almost every day."
"I don't know...I'm just not sure if he actually wants to be, I mean before we were never anything official."
"And look where that got you," Spencer echoes. Brendon glares at him.
"He's right." Dallon jumps in, "You're more mature now."
Brendon's still unsure, "I'm just not sure he wants me like that."
Spencer scoffs, "Of course he does. He's a total girl. He's wanted you to be his boyfriend for forever."
Brendon beams, but when it fades he still looks doubtful, and slouches against Dallon. They order coffee and talk quietly, occasionally panicking when someone enters the building, but it's always just a elderly person who either smile or gape at Dallon holding Brendon's hand.
"We have a surprise for you," Spencer says mysteriously when Brendon downs his coffee and asks to leave.
Brendon's eyes light up, "Are one of Jon's shows here?" Spencer smiles and shrugs innocently.
Brendon's bouncing up and down in his seat, sipping at Dallon's coffee while Dallon squeezes his right hand in an attempt to soothe him. "I'm so excited to see Jon. He better ask Spencer on a real date." Dallon just smiles and nods.
Finally the middle aged barista wanders over to the small stage a foot off the ground and speaks into the mic.
"And now, I would like to welcome our musician for the night, Ryan Ross, to the stage to play us a few songs." her monotone doesn't rouse many, but Brendon goes completely still, eyes going wide.
She shuffles off the stage, and Ryan pushes his way through a thick curtain at the left of the stage, carrying his guitar. There's a few claps, Spencer's being the loudest, and silence from Brendon. Ryan looks everywhere but their table. He slides his guitar strap on and moves up to the mic.
"Uh, hi." he clears his throat. "The first song that I'm going to play for you, I'm used to playing with someone else."
Brendon makes a small strangled noise in the back of his throat, his big moon eyes still on Ryan. Dallon starts to rub small circles on Brendon's hand.
Ryan fiddles a little with the guitar up on stage, "But that person's tried to play it by himself quite a few times, so I'd like to return the favour. "
"And please be kind," he adds, "I've never really done this alone." he offers a small smile.
The opening chords of Northern Downpour start, Ryan turns ever so slightly, and looks right at Brendon. He spends the whole song, and then the whole show singing to Brendon. Brendon remains still, smiling dumbly up at him. It's as if they're the only two people in the room.
Dallon pretends not to notice Spencer's eyes looking damp.
As soon as Ryan plays his last song and steps off the stage to mild applause, Brendon's up and shooting out of his seat. He's still got his guitar on when Dallon sees Brendon lace their hands together and pin the smaller man against the wall, kissing him. When he pulls away he swings their laced hands up and down, smiling stupidly at Ryan.
"What!" Ryan demands, laughing a little at Brendon.
Brendon pushes against the guitar, pushing Ryan harder against the wall. He gets close , so close Dallon almost doesn't hear him ask Ryan to be his boyfriend. Both Dallon and Spencer see the shining look on Ryan's face and his nod however, and exchange a celebratory fist bump as Ryan and Brendon meet for another kiss.
Later that night, the four of them, plus Jon, are at Ryan's house, eating supper and laughing and talking about their separate tours and doing collaborations. Brendon's pestering Jon and Spencer when Ryan pulls Dallon into the kitchen.
"Something wrong?" things are still a little awkward between them, but better.
Ryan shakes his head. "No, no, no. I just wanted to thank you, because, I think..." he looks right up at Dallon, "You saved my life."
Dallon blushes. "You're making it hard to hate you."
Ryan smirks boyishly, and then his face goes serious, "I'm not kidding Dallon. You saved him, and you saved me."
Before Dallon can reply, Brendon pops his head in. "You two better not to be up to anything."
Both protest as Brendon walks in and slides in front of Ryan. "I'm serious, just because I let you sleep with William that one time doesn't mean you get to sleep with every giant guy who's in a band."
Dallon squeaks in surprise at Ryan's deep blush, while Brendon sneaks in a kiss.
"Really?" Dallon asks after Brendon's pulled away and is walking out of the room.
Ryan goes darker, "The four of us worked out an agreement."
Brendon waves vaguely at them and they follow him back into the living room.
"Me and William, Gabe and Brendon," Ryan finishes quietly.
"Told you! Told you I had fantastic sex with Gabe!" Brendon hollers.
"My ears!" Spencer whines, turning to hide his face in Jon, who's laughing at both of them.
Ryan sits down in the corner of the couch, and Brendon dives in next to him, snuggling his chest. Dallon takes the opposite end of the couch, next to the loveseat Spencer and Jon occupy. Brendon throws his legs out, head nestled on Ryan and feet propped up on Dallon's thighs. They start talking again, and it's hours before any of them move.
#
If Dallon closes his eyes and blocks everything out he can still hear his pastor from when he was a kid, reprimanding him because he'd been caught kissing a boy and it was a sin.
But Dallon still believes. in his wife and kids at his side, Ryan and Brendon nuzzled close together at every opportunity, Jon and Spencer holding hands on the sidewalk, and Pete and Patrick going on tour with their wedding rings held high. He tells Brendon all this, who listens patiently to him, and understands completely.
"I'm just...relieved I guess. I never thought that I would see two men happy together, especially married."
"Well you know," Brendon has a cocky grin on his face, "We must reinvent love." Dallon groans and gives him a little shove, and Brendon giggles mercilessly, beaming up at Dallon.
Brendon pulls out his phone, no doubt to call Ryan and gloat about the terrible joke he made, and the light catches on the shiny guitar pick tied to his wrist. They're not reinventing love Dallon thinks, just embracing it.