sablestardust | (no subject)

*snicker* I'm so hopeless. Inspired by this

“What do you want, huh? What’s so important that you’d risk your life for?” Brendon asks. Pete looks up at him, lips swollen and glistening, eyes dark and hurt. He is beautiful in a way that makes Brendon’s chest ache.

“Patrick,” Pete says, and his face is open, and honest. A year from now, Brendon will say that this was his mistake. Never look a man in love in the eye, he will say. But in that moment all Brendon sees is the way Pete’s mouth curls around each syllable, the way all the hardness Brendon had watched him cultivate melts away. Brendon shakes his head and looks over Pete’s head at Ryan. Their eyes connect and Brendon sighs.

Three hours later a dark car picks a blindfolded Pete up. The official story is that he’s being driven to his death. Brendon curls up next to Ryan and hopes that Pete finds his Patrick.

“What’s so important, anyway?” Brendon asks again. This is the second time in a month. The sixth time since Pete had left.

Bert looked at him, widening his eyes and wringing his hands. Is this what they thought honesty looked like, Brendon wondered.”I just want Gerard, man.” Brendon fought to keep a straight face. He nodded and motioned for Bert to leave. Bert stood and a gun sounded. Bert fell to the ground, a surprised look on his face.

“It’s kind of fucking scary how well you do that.” Brendon says to Ryan as he looks at the speck of blood on his black shoes. He wipes it on Bert’s face.

Ryan shrugs. “I’m talented. Not scary.”

Brendon slumps down in his chair and rubs a hand across his face. “What the fuck is this, Ross? This is the second piece of shit we’ve caught in what, two weeks? Why does everybody think they can move in on me now?”

Ryan leans against the blood red walls and pushes at hair that didn’t exist, hair that hadn’t been there since he had to get stitches across the front of his head, just above his hairline. Fucking bastards, Brendon thinks viciously, the way he does every time Ryan makes the motion to push his hair back.

“You let a rat in here Brendon. You let him in, and then let him leave. Alive. They think you’re weak.” Ryan looks tired. It doesn’t fit with his face, which looks five years younger without hair hanging in his eyes.

“They all use the same fucking line, Ross!” Brendon throws on his own honest face. “I just want my dear Aunt Sally, sir.” He makes a disgusted noise and sinks lower into the chair.

“Brendon,” Gerard says from the threshold. He looks down at the body but doesn’t seem to register that it’s his old boyfriend. “Two guys here to see you. They say Ross called them. “

Brendon looks at Ryan sharply, who stares back blankly.

“Fine,” Brendon says, not breaking his gaze. “Get Bert and tell them to come in.”

Gerard makes a soft pleased sound when he sees where the blood has bloomed on the back of Bert’s shirt, right where his heart was.

“Bastard deserved it,” He says quietly, dragging the body out of the room.