DAMN YOUR KISS; ryden

Chapter Twenty-Two: You're Worse Than Nicotine

His heart was a jackhammer.

With shaking fingers, he pulled a slightly crushed pack of cigarettes out of his back jean pocket, selected one, and with shaking fingers, lit it and took and massive drag.

It didn't stop the nauseous, jittery feeling, but it helped some.

He blew out the plume of smoke, before putting the cigarette back to his lips.

"Might wanna slow down there, buddy." Z said from beside him, fixing him with a pointed look. "You're nearly burnt out already." She gestured toward the stick between his fingers, and he glanced down to notice that he had, indeed, reduced it to a small stump and a flutter of ash within moments. He looked at it for a moment longer, before nodding, more so to himself, and dropping it the floor, where he crushed it out with the toe of his shoe.

"I can't do this." He said, taking out another smoke, placing it between his teeth to hold it in place whilst he held the pack out to Z.

"Yes, you can." She said, firmly, obligingly plucking her own out, and waiting for Brendon to light hers along with his own.

"What makes you so sure?" he asked.

She shrugged her slender shoulders. "Just trust me."

Brendon couldn't help but snort, running a hand through his new hair, which was a whole lot more floppy than it'd been before. A million things hung in his mind, and threatened to spill onto his lips, but he managed to keep them in. Stuff like I know he'll take one look at me and turn on his heel. I feel like my heart is gonna punch through my ribcage. Wow, this is fucked up.

"Instead of focusing on the negative outcomes that could come from this, think of the positive." Z said sagely.

"What are you, a fucking fortune cookie?" Brendon snapped, before instantly feeling guilty, and beginning to apologise. "I'm sorry, that was uncalled for, I didn't-"

She waved away his apology with the flick of her hand. "It's ok, Brendon."

"It's just... I..." he shook his head in frustration, taking another all-too-deep drag. "To be perfectly honest, even if I did focus on the positive ... I have no fucking idea what would happen after that. Y'know? All the movies end at the happily ever after. They never tell you what happens next. And that scares me, Z. It scares me real bad."

"Then don't think of it as a happily ever after. That's stupid. Think of it as the end of the first half, and the beginning of a sequel."

Brendon wasn't entirely sure he could. And with all the nervous energy crowding inside his head and body... He let out a small chuckle, shaking his head a little. "God, I haven't been this nervous since I played my first proper stage shows."

"But you got over those nerves." Z pointed out, finishing her cigarette with a flourish, and stamping it out. "And now it's like second nature to you, up there."

"This is different." He muttered.

He waited for her to reply, something blunt, and wise, but she didn't. Not for at least a long minute or two, until she said "It's time to go in."

At that, Brendon's heart rate spiked dramatically, and an audible gasp rushed out of him. And Z knew it best not to indulge these fearful reactions, and instead hooked a hand on the crook of his elbow, and began to pull him towards the doors of the restaurant.

This was it. The moments leading up to the moment of truth.

Ryan would be here in ten minutes.

At that thought, a strange numbness suddenly replaced the anxiousness within Brendon. It wasn't exactly a calming feeling, but instead sort of spaced him out a little, standing beside Z mutely and stiffly as she told the maître d' of the reservations at eight, and they were just expecting the other party soon.

"Oh." The young woman frowned, glancing down at the book, then back at Z and Brendon. "This says it was just a reservation for two..."

"It is." Z said. "I'll be leaving just as soon as my companion is seated."

A confused look passed across the maître d's face, before she nodded, put on a big smile and said "Right this way then,"

Z still held onto his arm as she pulled the still-numbed Brendon onward, after the maître d'. She didn't let go of him, in fact, until she'd made sure he was sat.

"You'll be ok." She said softly, giving his shoulders a reassuring squeeze.

And then she left.

And Brendon's stomach twisted, his heartbeat going so fast it didn't even feel like he had one at all. He tried to stay still for what felt like ages, but was really only two minutes at best, before turning his attention to the napkin in front of him. Deep breaths he told himself as he twisted the soft tissue. Calm. Be calm.

His body refused to listen though, and he was craving another cigarette really badly.

He'd almost finished the origami swan he'd been making when a voice startled him, and caused his hand to flex in panic, crushing it in his palm. A surprised, pissed, hurt, incredulous voice. A slightly drawl-y voice.

"Brendon." Ryan didn't say his name like a question, but he did the second thing that came out his mouth. "What the hell are you doing here?"