It takes longer for Brendon and Dallon to reconcile this time, and Brendon is still getting the silent treatment a week later, when it's time for him to go out for Mikey's birthday. Dallon's sitting at the table with a cup of tea while Brendon hovers nearby, making sure he's got his phone, wallet, keys and overnight bag.

"You're not coming, then?" he asks Dallon, who doesn't look up from his cup. "Fine. I'll see you tomorrow. Don't forget that I'm staying at Frank's tonight."

He hesitates for a moment longer, just in case Dallon does wish him a good evening, but he doesn't. With a sigh, Brendon leaves the house, climbing into the cab that's waiting outside. It doesn't take long to get to Frank's house, and he knocks on the door, shuffling from foot to foot.

There's a chill in the air, and Brendon feels apprehension nipping at his fingertips. Even though the only plan so far is drinking and dancing with his friends, he's on edge, waiting for the night to throw a curveball at him, like it usually does.

Frank opens the door, grinning. He's already started on the drinks, holding a bottle of beer in his hand. He waves Brendon in, offering him his own bottle almost immediately, and Brendon shrugs and takes it, setting his bag down beside the couch as he sits down.

"Just waiting for Gee and Mikey to get here, then we'll head out," Frank tells him, sitting down on the couch opposite. "They're late, as fucking usual." He takes a sip and then frowns at Brendon, as if he's suddenly realising he's alone. "No Dallon?"

Brendon fights the urge to roll his eyes. "No, he's decided to stay home and have a one-person pity party." He gulps down at least half of his beer as Frank's frown deepens.

"How come? Trouble in paradise?"

Brendon scoffs. "Yeah, you could say that." he replies, looking into his bottle. "He's being a real dick recently; I don't really wanna talk about it."

Frank opens his mouth to ask more questions but then there's a knock on the door. He leaps up and heads into the hallway, and seconds later, Brendon hears Gerard's loud voice fill the house. The Way brothers step into the front room, Mikey with a rainbow feather boa around his shoulders and Gerard wearing a t-shirt that says I'm with stupid on it, the arrow pointing to his right (which is, coincidentally, where Mikey usually stands).

Brendon gets to his feet and hugs his friends, wishing Mikey a happy birthday. Frank asks if they're all ready, and Brendon downs the rest of his beer before they head out and down the street towards Jinxxd. Gerard and Mikey are already both high as kites, but Gerard still offers Frank and Brendon a puff on his joint (not a euphemism) before they head into the bar. Frank says yes while Brendon declines, thinking about the alcohol he's about to drink instead.

Surprisingly, it doesn't take long for them to get into the club, and even more surprisingly, they find a booth fairly close to the bar. Frank gets the first round in - a double rum and coke for Brendon, a mojito for Mikey, red wine for Gerard and whatever the fuck Frank wants - and they sit and drink for a while before Mikey drags Frank onto the dancefloor.

They've been there for a little over an hour when Brendon's phone rings, vibrating in his pocket. It's a good job he's got vibration on, otherwise there's no way he would hear it over the music of the bar. He digs it from his pocket as Mikey and Frank come back over, joined by Gerard, all three of them sweaty and grinning, and his heart thumps as he sees the name on the screen:

Ryan.

~

Ryan said goodbye to Pete twelve hours ago, and now he waits eagerly in bed for him to call. He said he'd call at 7pm, but now it's 9pm and there's been nothing. Pete's definitely landed by now; as his assistant, Ryan had made a point of tracking the flight to see if it got to Minnesota safely. Just in case. You never know what could happen.

It gets to nine-thirty, and Ryan's had enough, and his anxiety is through the roof. Pete promised he'd call. I should wait, the sensible side of him says, the side of him that's not freaking out. He's probably busy settling in and having dinner with important people. But then the not-so-sensible side of him pipes up, the side of him that is freaking out, and it says but what if he's hurt? What if he's forgotten about me? What if - the thought makes him queasy - he's in bed with Patrick?

He can be in bed with Patrick if he wants -

The sensible side tries to argue, but he ignores it. He snatches up his phone and dials Pete's number, his knee bouncing up and down. He's convinced it's going to go to voicemail when Pete answers, and suddenly there's a lump in his throat.

"Ryan?" he says, as if he doesn't understand why Ryan's calling him.

"Hey," Ryan says, his heart racing with nerves. "You didn't call, I was worried."

"Oh, did I? Sorry, I -" he sounds distracted. "- I got caught up with some stuff and didn't realise the time."

"That's cool, just so long as you're okay. How's Minnesota?"

"Yeah, it's - it's good, it's been raining since I got here though."

Ryan chuckles. "Yeah, that sounds about right. What -" he starts to ask Pete about his plans for tomorrow, but he's interrupted, and not by Pete

"Who's calling you at this hour?" says a voice in the background, and Ryan's body tenses when he hears it.

Patrick.

"Just my assistant, checking in. Nobody important." That stings, and when Ryan opens his mouth to defend himself, Patrick continues talking, his voice grating.

"Why's he calling you? You're off the clock, aren't you?" his voice drips with disdain. "Doesn't matter. Come back to bed, Pete - your dick isn't going to suck itself."

Ryan feels like he's been punched in the gut. "Pete?" he chokes out. "What the fuck?"

"Ryan, I - it's nothing - we'll talk about this later - I gotta go -"

"Peter -"

"Bye, Ryan."

He hangs up and Ryan sits there, dumbstruck. His worst fears have come true. Tears roll down his face before he can stop them, and he tries to suppress a sob, but he can't control it and it spills over, leaving him shaking.

He knows he shouldn't be upset; he's just Pete's unimportant assistant, someone he can stick his dick into whenever he fancies it. He never meant anything to Pete, not really. Just a hole.

Why would Pete ever care for him like that?

He swears loudly, wiping his eyes, and he opens his phone back up, finding the number of the only person he can think of to call right now. He knows it's not fair to dump all his problems on his ex, but Brendon did complain about Dallon the other day, so he feels as though he owes him one. That and he knows Brendon will listen.

He answers almost instantly.

"Ryan?" there's loud music in the background, and Brendon has to shout over it. "Ry - hold on - can you hear me?"

"Yeah, I can hear you," Ryan sniffs, feeling fresh tears caressing his skin. "Where are you?"

"At Jinxxd, it's Mikey's birthday. What's up?"

Ryan swallows heavily, pinching the bridge of his nose. He finds that he doesn't really want to talk about it anymore, not to Brendon. "Nothing, I -" he hiccups. "I've just had a really bad day, and I just needed to talk to someone, but if you're busy -"

"Don't be stupid, Ryan, it's fine -"

"Ryan? Ryan Ross?" Mikey says in the background, and he hears gimme gimme gimme before all of a sudden he's speaking into Ryan's ear, loud and clear and very, very drunk. "Ryan! It's my birthday!" He doesn't wait for Ryan to wish him a happy birthday before continuing. "Where are you? What are you doing? Come and partyyyyyyy, I miss you!"

Ryan chuckles, running a hand through his hair. "I don't know, Mikes -"

"I'm not taking no for an answer, so you'd better get dressed and come down here right now I'll come to wherever you are and drag you down here myself."

"Mikey," Brendon says, but Mikey can be surprisingly demanding.

"Nuh-uh-uh, you get no say - it's my birthday and I want Ryan with us. Capiche?"

Ryan sighs. Looks like he's going out drinking. "Okay fine. I'll be there in half an hour."