Title: I Know It Eats You Up Inside [s/a]
Author: meiloslyther
Rating: PG-13
Pairing: Rydon
POV: 3rd, Brendon-centric
Summary: Ryan's being kind of a douche and Brendon just wants his old boyfriend back.
Word Count: 1,152
Disclaimer: I don't own these boys, and this only happened in my own sick mind.
Beta: phoenix_vixen Thanks so much!
Author Notes: Prompt from faith_omgwtfbbq: Rydon, the final season of scrubs, crappy digital cameras, cute text messages, drunk text messages, broken guitar strings, black lights, moths, chuck norris, and complicated relationships.


"Ow, oh crap, ow."

"Brendon?"

Ryan carefully stood from the couch in his living room and followed the soft cursing to his music room, where he found Brendon sitting cross-legged on the floor, Ryan's old acoustic guitar in his lap. He had one finger sucked into his mouth and one of the strings on the guitar was sticking out at an odd angle, very obviously disconnected from one end.

"Brendon, you okay?"

Brendon knew the elder man meant the finger he still had in his mouth, but it sounded like he meant so much more.

"Yeah, string broke," Brendon replied bluntly, removing his finger from his mouth and shaking his hand around as if that would make it feel better. "'M fine."

Ryan nodded and turned to leave, completely missing the hurt look on Brendon's face that he only half-tried to hide and the small tear that ran down his cheek a few seconds later.

Of course, Brendon thought, getting up to grab a new package of strings from Ryan's stash. Of course the last season of Scrubs is more important than asking your boyfriend incessant unnecessary questions about his recently hurt finger like you would have before. Of course the TV is more important than grabbing boyfriend's said finger and kissing it better and telling him it'll be okay like you used to. Of course the living room couch is more important than hugging your boyfriend and telling him you love him like you did before.

Like you did before. Brendon didn't even know how even to BEGIN to remember how it was before.

***

Brendon: we shud ttly go 2 th mall

Ryan: What for?

Brendon: 2 hav fun n hang out. spence wants new pants n i thot we cud chk/o that new store nxt 2 A&F

Ryan: You mean XXI or Hollister?

Brendon: um, both i guess

Ryan: You're such a little kid, B. :D

Brendon: u luv me tho

Ryan: You got me there.

Brendon: ily 2, ry. u dnt hav 2 pick me up cuz spence is givin me a ride

Ryan: Okay. See you guys there.

Brendon: bring ur camera

***

"Ooh, try these on, Spence."

Brendon threw another pair of jeans in Spencer's direction, laughing as Ryan snapped a picture of Spencer trying to catch them and failing.

"Oh god, I hope that one comes out!" Ryan laughed, picking up the jeans and handing them to Spencer.

"I hope your fucked up camera ate that one for lunch."

Spencer sighed as he led the two to the dressing room, laden with at least five pairs of jeans, shaking his head as they continued to laugh at him.

Ryan followed Spencer into the dressing room like he always did, as awkward as it may have looked to other people. Brendon waited for them outside the door.

"I can't even get these over my fat ass."

"Pull harder."

"I don't want to break them!"

"Get a less fat ass."

Brendon snickered at their muttered conversation, imagining Spencer jumping in place trying to pull on a pair of particularly tight and expensive girl jeans, Ryan sitting on the small bench with a bored look on his face.

"Maybe I'll give it to you. You look like you could use more ass."

"My ass is just fine!"

"You don't even have an ass."

"I do so! Brendon!"

Brendon chuckled. "Actually, Ryan has a very nice ass. And I mean VERY NICE."

There was a thump on the door. "Fuck you, Bren." Brendon could even hear Ryan blush.

"I believe it was the other way around," Brendon sing-songed, grinning despite it going unseen.

"Fuck. You."

Brendon's grin faltered at that, and he could just imagine Spencer giving Ryan a questioning glance, Ryan shaking his head in response. A full conversation in their eyes, no words necessary.

"Let's go get cookies after this," Spencer suggested cheerfully, audibly struggling with whatever pair of jeans he was trying on.

"I thought you were worried about your fat ass," Brendon quipped, attempting to get things back to normal. As if he ever could.

There was another thump on the door, harder than Ryan's. "Fuck you, Bren."

***

Ryan: hey, we should tell jon that he's kinda like chuck norris. cause he totally is.

Brendon: what?

Ryan: i love you so much, bden.

Brendon: ily 2, ry. whats goin on?

Ryan: i wanna fuck your brains out.

Brendon: ry, r u drunk?

Ryan: nono, i'm not drunk. jon is the shit. and i love you. a lot.

Brendon: where r u?

Ryan: i'm at spence's, why?

Brendon: ...u r drunk

Ryan: no i'm not. can't i tell you that i love you? cause i really do, b.

Brendon: im coming over there

Ryan: no, really, i'm fine, b. i'm not drunk.

Brendon: u r, and im coming over there wether u like it or not

***

"B, I told you I was fine," Ryan slurred from his stool at the bar, chin resting on the counter, a crooked grin on his lips.

Brendon sighed. "How many has he had, Spence?"

"About three margaritas."

As if on cue, Ryan began giggling uncontrollably, his head lolling over to the side, a slender hand clumsily covering his face. "Fettucini, linguini, martini, bikini!" he yelled, cracking up even harder.

"He's been like this all night. I made him drink a glass of water an hour ago, but I think he's due for another one." Spencer looked from his drunk best friend giggling about infomercials to his sober one staring at a dead moth on his hardwood floor. "What happened between you two?" he asked softly so that Ryan couldn't hear.

Brendon blinked, his gaze trailing from the dead moth to Spencer's mini black light on the kitchen table then up to Spencer's face. "We, uh... you know..."

Spencer thought for a second. "He's upset about you two doing it?" he whispered, furrowing his brow. "Was it that bad?"

Brendon rolled his eyes. "No, it was amazing and he loved it but... god, it's so hard to explain. Not to mention dumb as hell."

"Bren, I know the kid inside and out. I'm not gonna laugh at either of you."

Brendon chewed on his lip, glancing over at his drunk boyfriend who was now singing something at the top of his lungs and somehow staying in key. "He... he was, you know... he's having a masculinity crisis, I guess," he muttered, shrugging and rubbing the back of his neck nervously. "Thinks I think he's like, 'the girl' or some shit."

Spencer sighed. "Is that all? Seriously, you two need to at least figure out how to work out the EASY shit by yourselves. Christ."

Brendon glared at Spencer. "Fuck you, you tell me how to get him to stop acting like an eight year old who didn't get his way."

Spencer smiled at that and placed a sympathetic hand on Brendon's shoulder. "Let him have his way."