[identity profile] mizzmeow.livejournal.com posting in [community profile] wl_fanfiction
Dissolution
(inspired by this pic)
Photobucket

By:[livejournal.com profile] mizzmeow
Pairing: Ryan/Greg (yup, that’s right, I’m writing Ryan/Greg, so I hope I don’t screw it up!) Ryan/Colin past
Rating: PG-13
Notes: Written for the lovely [livejournal.com profile] clayangel for her birthday. Happy B-Day Clay!!! Hope you don’t mind angst, even though I suck at writing it. Inspired by the picture featured above.
Warnings: Greg angst and Ryan is a real bastard in this story.
Summary: Greg ponders his relationship with Ryan.

****

It wasn’t a large sofa, but the gap between them may as well have been the Grand Canyon. It was like this all the time now. Not just on this stage, on this sofa, but every stage and hotel room in every city they played in.

Greg remembered a time, not so long ago, when there was never any personal space between them, on and off the stage. Ryan’s wandering hands had always been a welcome distraction, even when they wandered all over someone else’s body. Because at the end of the night, it would be Greg in his bed, or him in Greg’s bed.

Their passion was always white hot, even after all of the years they both had behind them, the sex had always been an explosion of new excitement and need. These days, however, Greg felt like it was just part of the routine. Go on tour, do the show, have sex with Ryan, sleep, then do it all over again in the next city.

Greg found himself wondering if Jeff and Chip had noticed this change in Ryan as well, but he was too chicken to ask them what they thought. It wasn’t like him to be afraid to ask something so bluntly, he noted ironically. Maybe he just didn’t want the other guys to see how insecure he was feeling about himself.

He’d asked Ryan last night, but the only response he’d received was a grunt of annoyance, before he was shoved down on the bed. He’d even attempted to ask post-fuck, but Ryan had simply shrugged and puffed on his cigarette.

Greg had even considered calling Colin, but wasn’t in the mood for the dreaded “I told you so”. Colin had warned Greg repeatedly about getting involved with Ryan. Warned him not to get too attached, because he’d only end up getting his heart broken. And Colin had been right, damn him.

Well, dammit, he’d show them all. He was Greg Proops, and no one fucked with him or his heart. Putting on his mask of indifference, and sharpening the edge of his caustic tongue, he took on Ryan and the audience like they were his worst enemies.

If Ryan noticed, he didn’t let on. That only pissed Greg off more. Made him more bitter, more aggressive. The audience ate it up. Greg reveled in it.

After the show Greg was out signing autographs while he had a smoke, when Ryan decided to make an appearance. He graciously greeted the fans, did the photo session and signed pictures and scraps of paper himself. The crowd dispersed, finally, and Greg headed for the waiting limo to take them to their hotel. Ryan sat across from him, staring out the blackened window blindly.

“I talked to Colin over the weekend.”

“Oh?”

“I told him I wanted to get back together with him. See if we could work things out. He told me to fuck off. He was done with all of that shit.”

“Good for Colin. At least one of us has balls enough to tell you that.”

The limo pulled up at the doors to the hotel and they both climbed out, Greg in the lead to the elevator. On the way up, Greg turned to Ryan again. “Don’t bother coming to my room tonight. I’ve got a headache, and I’m not really in the mood.” He didn’t wait for an answer, didn’t even bother to check the expression on Ryan’s face. He, like Colin, was done with all the shit. And it was liberating.

So why did it hurt so fucking much?

End

January 2016

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