longerthanwedo

Title: Unfinished (With Fear in Your Smile) [2]
Author: longerthanwedo
Beta: melody_so_sweet
Pairing: Brendon/Ryan for now.
Rating: PG-13
POV: 3^rd, Brendon centric.
Summary: He’s writing in blood; a feeble attempt to finish the story. The story of his life, of him and him and him. It’s a story of life, of love, of lions and fireworks and years gone by. It’s a story of blood, plenty of blood.
Disclaimer: I don’t own the characters. Title and inspiration from Something Corporate.
Author’s Note: This is kind of a random story. The plot I don’t think comes into play till a little later, and it’s a subtle plot. But I hope you like it anyway, and leaving me comments will give me much in the field of inspiration.

Prologue I Chapter 1

California winters have always been warm. Not hot, not cool, but warm with a breeze that blew back Brendon’s hair as he walked through the darkening air, hands in his pockets and one shoe untied. His feet set their own pace and he squinted in the night as though the sun were blinding, looming in front of him. It wasn’t.

The sun rarely showed its face in the wintertime, preferring to hide behind clouds or behind hills, and Brendon only missed it at times, like when he would step outside, feeling the warmth in the air, and wondering why he couldn’t see the source of that mid-December heat.

He could feel the sun, though. He could feel it sliding down against a hidden canvas of blue, sinking lower and lower and saluting, unseen, as it disappeared from sight. He could feel the faint heat of the orange glow, masked in gray.

Brendon could almost see the sun’s parting smile, and was tempted to wave back. He didn’t. He just kept walking, letting his mind wander as his feet beat a path into solid concrete.

Somewhere, distant, a flickering caught his eye and he was left squinting at a light instead of black sky. It was a light set apart from the lowering of the muted sun. It rose into the air, and after a moment Brendon deduced that there must have been a plume of smoke, tumbling upward and disappearing, becoming part of cloud curtain.

It was a fire, and now that he could put a definition to the light, he could smell it, faint. He walked, not knowing exactly where the fire was, but lured to it all the same.

The light grew closer and closer and bigger and he could smell the smoke, smell it filling his lungs.

He listened for sirens, but couldn’t hear any. Instead, he could make out what sounded like the low thump, thump of a bass or maybe a drum.

Brendon let his feet carry him, and before too many yards had passed, he heard voices, quiet, laughing. They swirled, mixing with smoke and tiny white flecks of ash, reaching his ears with a faint echo. He followed the echo.

It was a bonfire. It roared into the night from its home of wood slabs and kindling, and a crowd was gathered around it, all happy, smiling, throwing their heads back in the light of the flames and laughing.

Brendon didn’t know if this was a party for just anyone, but he was curious, and his curiosity made him keep walking, right until he was standing on the outskirts of the crowd. He looked around and no one seemed to see him, so he stayed, staring as though hypnotized at the fire and idly listening to the conversation around him.

He was drawn into the flames, so much so that he didn’t notice the lanky figure that emerged, parting the orange glow of light and moving towards him with a fast pace.

A hand tapped him on the shoulder and he snapped back to reality and out of some fiery dream.

Brendon blinked his eyes in adjustment to the light and looked into the shadow-cast face of the stranger in front of him. It was a boy, a man, Brendon couldn’t tell his age, but he seemed to have the kind of face that seems years younger than it is. His hair blew in wisps and curls around his face, reflecting light in a fiery halo. In the half light, Brendon’s first thought was that this stranger was kind of beautiful. He was familiar, too, in a way that Brendon couldn’t place.

“Hey,” said the man, looking first in Brendon’s eyes and then back out around the crowd.

“Hi,” Brendon replied, not knowing what else to say and not bothering to try to figure it out. He settled on his name. “I’m Brendon.”

“Yeah, I remember you,” said the stranger, his voice slightly monotone yet soft somehow.

Brendon turned his face and raised an eyebrow, scrutinizing what he could make out of the man’s face in the flickering spotlight. He squinted, and then realized. This was the man with the lion eyes.

“Ryan, right?” Brendon asked, visualizing the restaurant, the poster, the name tag.

His eyes didn’t look like lion eyes in this light, Brendon thought. In this light they danced and twirled in a way that made them seem alive, a separate entity. They flickered, kind of like fireflies in the summer when they would flutter up high, blinking in and out of existence.

Ryan nodded. “And you’re Brendon. You don’t like circuses.”

Brendon cracked a smile. “You don’t either,” he said, and Ryan gave a low chuckle. They turned away from each other and towards the warmth.

Ryan’s eyes reflected nothing but the fire, just that consistent, pure light. Brendon watched from the corner of his vision, watched the miniature flames, and marveled at the fact that he couldn’t see the clouds in Ryan’s eyes.

“So what brings you here?” Ryan asked after a moment, looking sideways at Brendon’s profile.

Brendon shrugged. “I just saw the fire. I got curious. What about you?”

“I live a couple minutes away. I could smell it from my apartment, had to check it out.”

Brendon nodded slowly and thought that Ryan’s voice was soothing, in an unconventional way. He liked it. He wanted to hear more of it.

“What do you do when you’re not wandering around town at night?” Ryan asked, a smile on his lips and a glint of orange off his teeth.

Brendon hummed in thought. “I take pictures,” he said. “And I play guitar, sometimes. And I like fish.” He said it as though reciting a memorized list of facts.

“Fish, huh?” Ryan asked, a ghostly laugh in his voice.

“Fish,” Brendon confirmed. “Do you like fish?”

Ryan contemplated. “I guess I never really thought about it. Fish are nice.” He nodded as though confirming his decision.

“Is there anything else you like?” Brendon asked, curious about the man with the firefly eyes and rough velvet voice.

“I don’t know.” Ryan frowned, like he really couldn’t remember. “I guess I like music. I like music, yeah, and books, and I’ve tried to be a musician but it hasn’t really worked out because I can’t play anything. And I’ve tried to write, but…” He trailed off, as if that memory was too painful or frustrating to relive.

Brendon nodded again, and from then on their conversation was as constant as the flames. They sat by the fire, perfectly comfortable against a backdrop of black satin and headlights.

They talked about life, family, anything that came to mind. They talked until the sparks flew into the air, flickering and dying before they got too high, until the fire was winking slowly out of existence.

When the glowing had faded into the shade of the night, Brendon closed his eyes. A sleepiness had settled over his limbs and his mind, and suddenly he didn’t want to walk the rest of the way home. He didn’t want to get up, didn’t want to leave the comfort of the warmth still hanging in the air. He didn’t want to move his muscles enough to stand.

He sighed, exhaling his distaste. Ryan heard.

“I live down the street. If you want, I have sleeping bags…if you don’t want to walk in the cold,” he offered.

It’s not cold, Brendon thought. “Yeah. Yeah, thanks,” he said instead.

Ryan stood up, and Brendon could almost hear his joints straining, slender limbs stretching and bones popping.

Brendon made a feeble attempt at movement, but groaned and flopped back onto the cooling pavement. Ryan laughed, bringing attention to the silence and the fact that almost everyone else had disappeared , and stretched out his hand.

Brendon took it, finally getting to his feet. Ryan’s hand was warm.

He let go, and they walked.