Chapter Text
Thunder rolled through the moonlit sky and forced its way through the thin walls of their structurally questionable tour bus. Ryan was curled up tight into a ball, clutching desperately at his knees under the slightly itchy cotton of his sheets. His chest rose and fell rapidly, and he was trying desperately not to let the pathetic whimper that he’d trapped in his throat slip out, his chest ached from holding all the terror in. He’d always hated thunderstorms. Any loud noise really was enough to set him off but something about the rough growl of thunder clawing its way through the darkness always seemed particularly sinister.
All he wanted was Brendon. He wanted to crawl into his bunk and hide himself in his arms. But no matter how much he wanted Brendon to kiss away his fear, they were only friends. Friends who had recently fallen asleep, backs turned, silent anger still thick between them. Besides, it wasn't fair to him to wake him up. Not after the chaotic day of rehearsals that had sparked their little scheduling mishap. Rehashing the argument in his mind actually helped a little. At least that’s what he told himself he was doing. Ryan totally wasn’t imagining warm hands and a steadily beating heart under his cheek. Nope. He was one hundred thousand percent still pissed. Kind of.
Ryan peeked out from the edge of his safety blanket, partly to get a break from the sweaty recycled air that he’d been forcing down for the last ten minutes, but mostly so he could observe the sleeping boy across the aisle from him. They usually didn’t bother with closing the little curtains attached to either of their bunks so that they could tangle their hands together as they drifted off, but he knew that Brendon had that night from the angry swish he’d heard when irritation was still bubbling fresh under his skin and he was trying desperately to ignore the other boy. It hadn’t stung much at the time but now that Ryan's chest ached with fear and little trembles were wracking their way though his entire body the sight of the tacky curtain was enough to bring the tears that had settled in his waterline tracking down his flushed face. He just wanted his boy.
Another cruel burst of thunder ripped though the walls of the bus, rattling the cheap window panes and trembling his suddenly way too confining bunk. Ryan gasped and his shaky hand flew up to hastily silence the involuntary choked sobs that followed. He scrambled to throw himself back under the covers, like a child, he thought bitterly. God this was all so pathetic. The amount of breath that Ryan could force into his lungs started to feel minimal, which was probably not assisted by the stuffy sheets he’d pulled tight over his head, but that particular thought seemed to be scrambled by the sheer panic that had his head in a vice.
So there he lay, wheezing and sobbing into damp, scratchy cotton desperate to throw himself at the boy who he always threw himself at. The boy who he was entirely sure would not appreciate being woke up at fuck knows what time to comfort the blubbering mess a few feet away from him. Especially not after they’d been at each others throats over some stupid fucking schedule all evening. Brendon probably wanted nothing to do with him.