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Note: hey hey hey your girl is turning 18 in 18 days on the 18th of July 2018; make sure you put it in your calendars 🙃

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Another night spent holed up in a hotel room, lounging lazily atop the crisp linen of the unfamiliar bed and absentmindedly flicking through TV channels. Tyler and Josh were scheduled to play a show at the Sonics Arena about a half hour out tonight, and a quick glance at the bedside alarm clock told you that they were only seconds away from going onstage.

You had opted to sit out of tonight's show, having so far been to virtually every other one on this tour, and chose to rather stay in your suite; hotel nights weren't too common while on the road, after all, and you wanted to get the most out of the luxurious boarding before being re-confined to the cramped tour bus for the next however many weeks.

The only problem was that without the boys and rest of the crew, you were alone. Now usually, that would've been absolutely fine by you but tonight that wasn't the case.

It could've been a subconscious thing – a side effect as a result of the complexity of the whole Josh/Brendon situation – but you had the unusual desire to be in the presence of other people, prompting you to gather your jacket and purse and slip on some shoes before heading for the Italian restaurant you had passed on the corner of the hotel's street.

You could really do with some pasta right about now.

~

Brendon lips curved into a huge fake smile. Normally, the smile would have been real, but he wasn't feeling in the happiest of moods this night. His facial muscles relaxed a moment later, after a blinding flash went off.

He blinked a couple times to rid his eyes of the attack of white light before wrapping his arms around the two fans on either side of him in quick yet affectionate hugs, assuring them it was no problem as they continuously thanked him for stopping to indulge their request for a picture.

Waving his hand as a final goodbye, Brendon continued on his way, stuffing both hands into the pockets of his jacket and watching the way his breath transformed into little wisps of fog as he exhaled. There was an undeniable chill in the air tonight. In retrospect, he probably should've recognised it as foreshadowing that no good would come from the next few hours, but he was too headstrong to even give that so much as a wavering thought.

He had come to Seattle for one reason and one reason only – and that reason was currently sitting alone at a table for two in the restaurant he was strolling past, leisurely sipping a glass of iced tea while scanning over the menu.

Brendon's breath hitched when he caught sight of you, and his footsteps halted. You were sitting in the farthest corner from the front window, almost entirely sheltered from the peering gazes of passing pedestrians. But even so, he spotted you immediately; it was as if he had a sixth sense solely dedicated to all things you.

Every fibre of his being was encouraging him to rush into the eatery, gather you in his arms and just kiss the hell out of you. And after a slight moment of hesitation he decided to do just that.

Well, part of it, anyway.

The rushing in part, to be exact. The other two parts would come later.

Hopefully.

A fresh gust of frosty air whizzed into the restaurant as Brendon opened the door and strode inside. The air inside was toasty – thanks to the heating systems installed in every corner – so the singer shrugged off his coat and slung it over his arm before tangling a hand in his hair and neatening it up a bit.

He started for your table, heart pounding so loud he could practically hear it and an adrenaline overload pumping through his body. His mind was on a rampage with thoughts of what he was going to say to you. It had been all he could think about on the plane ride over, during which he was able to craft a respectable mental outline of what his speech would entail. However, as soon as he had begun walking over to you, that outline disintegrated, and so he went with saying the only thing he could in this situation.

"Hi."

You didn't have to raise your gaze from the menu to know who it was – you could sense him. Your lips parted in a small sigh as your eyes fluttered shut for a moment. It would be a lie to say that you hadn't expected him to show up again at some point, but you figured that he would at least have enough of a grasp on the concept of 'privacy' to choose to make his appearance at your hotel door instead.

But this is Brendon we're talking about; you should've known better than to expect anything less than a public declaration of his love for you.

Said declaration didn't seem to be happening yet, though, so you turned to look up at him. He gave you a weak smile filled with so much optimism it almost made you cave right then and there.

But you renounced the urge and rather returned his greeting. "Hi."

"Do you..." he moved his eyes and cocked his head to gesture at the empty seat across from you, "Do you mind?"

Leaning back in your seat, your shoulders slouched as you sighed heavily and extended a hand to indicate that it was fine.

Brendon moved awkwardly, slinging his coat over the back of the chair before languidly seating himself at the table. He cleared his throat and rested his forearms on the maroon tablecloth; it was clear that he was on edge.

You stared at your ex with a blank face. Brendon used to be able to read you outstandingly well, but it seemed as though that ability had degenerated a decade ago, because over the last year or so, he found you to be wholly unreadable.

There had been a significant change in your character – you weren't the girl from that summer eleven years ago anymore. And while Brendon loved that – loved the person you had become – it admittedly threw him completely off the rails. He had absolutely no idea how to speak to you, and he'd been failing miserably at it up until now.

Everything he said to you seemed to come out in a way he hadn't intended it to, resulting in you becoming increasingly pissed off at him. From here on out he wanted to make sure not to make any more linguistic mistakes, which is why the two of you sat in silence – just staring at one another – for a solid three minutes.

At the precise moment that Brendon decided to open his mouth to speak, the waiter appeared and asked for your food order.

"Oh, uh..." Brendon startled, doing a quick once over of the menu before looking up at the waiter, "I'll have the alfredo, and a lasagne for the lady. Extra cheese."

He handed the menus over, mentally praying that he'd gotten your order right and that your preferences hadn't changed; he exhaled in relief when you didn't object.

"Certainly," the waiter nodded slightly, "Anything to drink for you, sir?"

Brendon reached a hand up to his throat, which he suddenly realised was uncomfortably dry. "Just a glass of ice water, thanks."

With a polite smile, the waiter turned and headed back to the kitchen and Brendon turned back to you.

"You remembered," you intoned, the tiniest of smiles tugging at your lips; Brendon perked up ever so slightly at the sight, thrilled that he had gotten something other than a rage-fuelled reaction from you.

"Yeah," he susurrated, running a hand through his puffy hair as he tossed you a lopsided grin, "How could I forget? You finished practically the entire dish by yourself when the restaurant served it at the buffet that one night."

"Shut up," you grumbled, crossing your arms across your chest and shifting your gaze around. Brendon's laugh sounded across the table and you couldn't supress a few giggles of your own. "I was so sick the next day."

He laughed even harder. "You were crying, saying how you were never eating it ever again, and then-"

"I ordered it for lunch the next day," you nodded, laughing too as you shook your head at the memory.

"You were so stubborn," he shook his head, leaning forward on his forearms as he smiled at you, "You wouldn't even let me look after you when you were sick."

"I didn't want you to see me all 'ugh'," you defended, holding up your hands and arching your brows, "Sue me for trying to keep the romance alive."

"The romance was very much alive," he scoffed, cocking one brow at you with a slight smirk.

"Yeah, 'cause you forced yourself into my hotel room and took care of me anyway so that I was back to normal before the sun even set. And then we..." you trailed off, letting those three words hang in the air as you averted your gaze downwards and delicately chewed on your bottom lip.

Both of you knew exactly what you were referring to.

"I've had tons of amazing nights in my twenty-plus years, but that night was without a doubt the best night of my life so far," Brendon spoke, voice so much gentler and amused smirk replaced by the sincerest of expressions.

You looked up at him through your lashes and swallowed.

"I say 'so far' 'cause," he gulped, gaze flickering to your lips briefly before returning to your eyes, "I hope that some night in the near future will top that one."

With slightly quivering hands, you raised your iced tea to your lips and took a sip to soothe your all-of-a-sudden-parched throat before setting it back down with a harsh respire.

Setting your elbow on the table, you tangled your hand in your hair and lifted your gaze to meet Brendon's.

"Bren, I think you should know... Josh and I... we're... kinda..." you stumbled over your words, not being able to fully enunciate the point you wanted to get across.

What you were able to get out was enough, though, and Brendon's body visibly stiffened. He was silent for a long moment, staring at you blankly as he let the idea properly sink in. When he eventually did speak, it wasn't what you'd expected to hear.

"Okay," he nodded, pursing his lips, "I get that."

You tried and failed to mask your bewilderment. "You do?" you gawked.

Another nod. "Yeah. I mean," he ran a hand through his quiff and shrugged, arching his brows, "It makes sense. Was bound to happen sooner or later."

You were thoroughly perplexed at this point; Brendon's reaction practically contradicted all of his words and actions over the last few months. He picked up on this confusion, and tossed you a light smirk before leaning forward again.

"I am upset about it, obviously, but I knew it was coming," he explained, fingers absentmindedly swiping away the condensation on the outside of his glass of water, "Just... can I ask why?"

You cocked your head and frowned; Brendon sighed.

"Are you with him because you want to be? Or is it because of circumstance?"

"Huh, that's funny," you muttered, rolling your tongue along the inside of your cheek.

"What is?"

"Tyler asked me the exact same thing."

The singer swallowed, shrugging again and slanting back in his chair. "Guess he's just looking out for his best friend."

"Right." You cleared your throat, eyes marginally squinted in suspicion.

The waiter came by with the food, setting your meals down and asking if you needed anything else. After you said no, he turned and made his way back to the kitchen, leaving the two of you to tuck in.

"I'm surprised you haven't asked me to leave."

"You haven't said anything to piss me off that much," you shrugged, cutting a bite from the lasagne, "Yet."

"Obviously my main goal here is to win you back – and I will achieve that goal if it's the last thing I do – but," he looked at you earnestly, "for now I'll settle for you not wanting to strangle me every time we have a conversation."

"Mm," you narrowed your eyes and took a sip of tea, "I wanna be friends with you, Brendon; I'm totally on board with that. But you're wasting your time trying to win me back, because I assure you that it's not going to happen."

He nodded, somewhat mockingly.

"I'm serious," you dropped your fork and steeled your gaze, "I'm over you."

"Alright, babe."

"I mean it."

"I know."

You groaned. "If you know, then why are you still trying?"

"Because... If you're really over me," he reached over to brush your hair out of your face, letting his fingers linger against your skin for a little longer than necessary, "I'll just have to make you fall in love with me all over again."

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Thank you for reading x