The Ramen Psychosis

Ryan stared at a spot on the plain white wall, watching the different colors from the party lights swirl across it. It was no secret that he hated parties. Violently. But this was a birthday party for Travis, after all; he couldn't not show up. So he'd grabbed a beer on his way in, found a quiet couch where people could seek him out if they wanted, and turned off his brain.

He felt his synapses kicking back on, however, as a familiar pair of legs crossed through his line of sight and planted their owner in the seat next to him. "Why so glum, chum?" Brendon fake-pouted in his ear, ruffling his hair. Ryan's lack of response made him giggle. "C'mon, seriously, what's eating you? You seem extra mopey today."

Still, no response was given. He planned on ignoring his friend until he gave up and went away. "Have you even said hi to the birthday boy yet? Trav managed to score some of that prime SoCo gold you loved so much last time...A bunch of us are gonna go in the back and spark it..." Brendon was sing-songing every syllable inches from his ear, making every muscle in his body tense up with annoyance.

"Y'know, if you have another crisis to work through, I'm sure we could find an empty room and figure out some therapy." Ryan clenched his teeth in anger as the singer giggled at him, close enough for his breath to hit his face. After a while, the laughing ceased, and Brendon just sat smiling at him defeatedly. "We're never going to talk about that night, are we?"

"There is absolutely nothing to talk about," he finally answered, letting his tired eyes fall from the wall to the floor. "It was a mistake. We never should have done that."

"Like it was really that bad on your part. You weren't the one that walked around bowlegged for three days afterward," Brendon snorted, looking away in annoyance now. "I just wish you'd admit that it made you realize who you really are, that's all I want to say."

"Who I am? Who I am? Excuse me, at least if I really was like that, I would still be completely closeted. You've got one foot in and one foot out, you're constantly doing this little dance back and forth. Make up your fucking mind and come out already. It's not like it's not obvious to everyone that's ever come in contact with you." Ryan felt as if an inner Pandora's box had been opened within himself, and he reveled in the sense of confidence the adrenaline was giving him.

Shocked by what his friend was actually having the balls to say, Brendon stared with his jaw hanging, venom forming in his eyes. "You little bitch," he finally hissed back. "How dare you even comment on the subject. I may not be public with it, but at least I'll admit what I am to myself. You're so fucking deep in denial you could mine for fossils. And you know what else? That night really was a mistake...I should've been the one fucking your brains out."

Ryan's hand flew out straight and true, hitting the pout-lipped singer with a resolute slap. Not giving the other time to process what hit him, he grabbed his friend by the collar and dragged him out of the crowded living room, down the hall to the first open bedroom. Danger lighting fire to his pupils, he shoved Brendon up against the back of the door. "I'd love to see you try, bitch..."
-
Patrick was high as a fucking kite, there was no doubt about it. For the first time in God knows how long, he wasn't worried about anything or anyone, and he felt absolutely fantastic for it. He let his eyes slip shut happily as he rested his head back against the couch, humming a nonsense song to himself.

To his left, Pete was staring at his own hands and giggling. He'd dragged him along when the birthday boy had announced that some epic weed was about to be lit in the back room. Since then, everyone else who'd partaken of the plant had gone off in search of birthday cake, abandoning the two for the munchies. Sure, he'd said no to smoking at first, but Patrick sure wasn't complaining now.

His giggling increasing in volume, Pete turned back towards him, his palms up and his pinkies side by side. "Dude...dude, look. The little lines on my hands make a treasure map! Let's follow it and see if it leads us to Captain Hook's treasure!"

Opening one eye to look, Patrick returned the laugh. "You're insane, dude."

"And you're pretty!"

Pete placed a wet lick on the side of his face, making him cringe and giggle as he wiped it off. "Knock it off, you ffff-fag." His high seemed to be screwing with his F's.

"Don't make fun of me right now, Trick. You're harshing my vibe." Pete let his eyes slip shut, breathing calmly through his nose and smiling. There was a clear, sweet silence for a while as both boys slipped off into their own peaceful head space, no sound except their breathing and the thud of the party's bass just outside the door.

A nagging thought creeping its way through the serenity of his mind, Pete peeled his eyelids back open, glancing up at his friend. His stare got so intense that Patrick had no choice but to sense it, opening his own eyes groggily. "What is it, Pete?"

Swallowing thickly, Pete whispered, "Trick...would...would you...."

"It's OK, Pete, just ask." Patrick put his arm around his friend and rubbed his shoulder comfortingly. The last time he'd seen Pete so anxious about something was...well, never.

Unable to hold it in any longer, Pete blurted it out. "Would you fuck me?"

There was a long, uncomfortable silence as the question hung in the air, like some macabre helium balloon. Patrick had sincerely no idea how to response to this proposal. As thoroughly convinced as he was that he was not only straight, but completely unattracted to his friend, Pete's pout was begging for his compliance.

"Please, Tricky?" Pete whispered, his eyes bloodshot and wet. "I want you...I want you to take me...you can pretend I'm someone else...just this once?" His sense of reason overshadowed, he leaned up and planted a kiss on the lips of a horrified Patrick. "Please? I trust you...and I want you to be my first..."

Leaning back so Pete's lips came off him, Patrick searched his friend's face some more, looking for signs of doubt. But all he found was sadness, desperation...and hunger...
-
William giggled at the wet sensation as Gabe licked salt off his neck for the eigth time that night. He'd never really been that fond of alcohol, but he was quickly learning its appeal.

Gabe chuckled at the base of his ear. "How come no one's noticed that we're the only ones left doing body shots?" Indeed, the group had dwindled drastically down to the pair of them after Ultragrrl announced that she was spent for the evening. Still, no one had cast a curious eye in their direction as they continued licking salt and lime off each other, not even so much as a raised eyebrow when their shirts had come off.

"We acted like this before the other day, why would they care now?" William slid a hand into Gabe's hair, running his fingers through the short curls. "Gotta love the freedom. I could probably suck you off right now and no one would bat an eye."

"Oh God, babe, don't talk like that, or I'll take you on top of the bar." With a snort, Gabe deftly licked the magic spot behind his friend's ear that he'd found made him squeak like a hamster. "I almost hope someone does say something. I hope someone gets a picture of us like this."

The word 'picture' sent a shiver down the smaller man's spine, resting in its usual place. Now was as good a time as any to ask.

"Hey, Gabe...I was thinking...how adverse would you be to a small photoshoot?"

Pulling away, his friend gave him a questioning look. "What kind of photoshoot, babe?"

"Well..." Trying to find the words to voice his wish made him blush. "I was thinking one just for...just for...me."

His boyfriend swallowed hard as he looked him in the eyes. "Will...I'm not so sure about that. I mean, I haven't...done any modeling since that Candy Shop spread, and I'm a little more...reserved than I was then..."

"Baby, I'd be the only one who'd see them. And besides, even if they did leak, who cares? You have an amazing body." Will let his fingertips graze along Gabe's side as he whispered reassurance in his ear.

"But with those...they'd be able to tell who I was, if they leaked. I never...I never did a shoot where they could tell who I was..." Gabe's face turned a pale magenta.

"...and you're not ready for the world to know you've done gay modeling?"

"Naturally."

"Oh, honey." With a gentle smile, Will leaned in and placed a gentle kiss on Gabe's cheek. "How about...we take photos of both of us? That way we'd both be screwed." He giggled as he moved to the other cheek. "What do you say, baby? An eye for an eye?"

Taking a deep breath, Gabe mulled it over as he felt Will kiss along his neck. "Y'know...I do have a camera on my phone..."
-
When Travis woke up the next morning, he'd never felt more at peace with the world. His party had been nothing short of legendary. Sure, he'd been stoned for most of it, his apartment was most likely trashed, and he had a girl in his bed whose name escaped him, but it was easily the best birthday he'd ever had. Wriggling himself from the girl's grasp, he slipped out of the room, down the trash-strewn hallway, to the kitchen to make himself and his conquest some breakfast.

He'd just cracked some eggs when he heard shuffling in the hallway. Casting a glance over his shoulder, he saw a very weary-looking Patrick standing in the doorway, staring at the floor. "Trick, my man, how was your night? I didn't see you again after we went to cut the cake. How'd you and Pete-"

"Nothing, nothing whatsoever." Patrick just kept staring at the tile, a slight twitch in his eye.

"Trick, you OK?"

"Swell, peachy-fucking-keen." Twitching all the way, Patrick left the kitchen through the opposite door, Trav staring in confusion after him.

A few minutes later, a yawning Pete stumbled in, checking the fridge. "Hey, Wentz. Say, uh, Trick was through here earlier. He seems a little...twitchy this morning."

"Yeah, I imagine he would be." Pete pulled his head out, taking a bite from the apple he'd snagged from the crisper before leaving just as abruptly as his friend.

As Travis started the bacon, Ryan and Brendon came down the hall. Ryan was wincing with each step. "Well hey, Ross, I didn't even know you made it. I thought for sure you'd blown off the invitation."

"I was here. I was just preoccupied." Ryan hobbled to the other door, Brendon watching him go for a moment before giving Travis an apologetic look and following.

"Was that the melodious voice of Ryan Ross I heard a moment ago?" Gabe stepped in shirtless, yawning and stretching with a happy smile on his face.

Unable to not notice it, Travis laughed out loud at the bright purple hickey on his friend's chest. "I take it you made a new friend last night, Saporta."

Gabe's grin weakened slightly. "I suppose you could say that..."

A shout came from down the hall, instantly recognizable as William Beckett. "Gaby, grab me some fucking aspirin, would you? My head hurts like a motherfucker!"

After a short but awkward silence, Trav finally said, "In the medicine cabinet in the can."

"Thanks."

Mr. Saporta, quite red in the face, headed back down the hall, nearly knocking over the girl from Travie's bed as she came in the opposite direction. Smiling coyly as she leaned against the doorframe, she took in the sight of Travis burning the eggs. "How's it feel, being one year older?"

"I'm not sure," he replied, "but I think my apartment turned into a bath house last night..."