Title: Why Do I Cry These Tears For Love When Love Is Unfamiliar? (Chapter 1)
Author: xkillerxangelx
Rating: R overall(just to be safe)
Pairing: Eventual Brendon/Bob Bryar, minor Brendon/Ryan, Past Bob/Frank
POV: 3rd – focuses on Bob at the moment but that will change eventually.
Summary: Brendon is going through a lot, the loneliness of being a semi-closeted gay is the biggest problem but so is his self-destructive behavior. Bob has been through it all, he's seen it all. Will he be able to help though?
Disclaimer: As true as the fact Bob is sitting on my couch crying cos Brendon dumped him for a porn star transvestite named Punch. Yeah, so true.
Author Notes: Thank you to everyone who read and commented chap 1 :) This chapter is longer and it's getting more into the plot now too so I hope you all like it :)

Prologue
Chapter 1


Chapter 2

After the show they retired to their own busses to sleep or go out and party. Bob walked past Frank, who was staring out the window wistfully and asked what he was doing.
“Watching Ryan write,” he sighed. Ryan was sitting at one of the tables outside. Bob rolled his eyes at him and walked off the bus, notebook in hand. Not many people knew Bob wrote, he didn’t want many people to know, he already looked shy and awkward enough.

Ray and Mikey were off at a party with Brendon, Spencer and Jon so it was pretty quiet and it was a warm night. Bob began writing and didn’t stop until he heard people talking. He looked up from his writing to see Spencer and Jon stumbling onto their bus and a very drunk Brendon sitting next to Ryan. Mikey and Ray were just stumbling into their bus too but nowhere near as drunk as the rest.

“What ish yooou doin Ryeean?” Brendon slurred at Ryan who looked at the retreating backs of his band mates in irritation.
“I’m writing Brendon, when do I ever do anything else?”
“Heheoo, tha’ ishn’t trueeee, sometimsh yooou’ree doin shtuff wit mee,” Brendon giggled, moving closer to Ryan.
“How much have you had to drink?” the guitarist asked, eyeing Brendon warily.
“Enough,” he answered before attaching his lips to Ryan and nearly knocking them both off the bench. Bob glanced at the window to his bus to see Frank looking surprised and slightly jealous.

Ryan pulled back and Brendon just attached his lips to the guitarist’s neck.
“Come on Brendon, it’s time you went to bed, without me,” Ryan once again sounded tired. He grabbed his journal and tried to drag Brendon to his feet. Brendon was still attacking Ryan’s neck; the latter was obviously enjoying it as much as being annoyed by it.
“Aw but I’m sho looonely and you’ree so musch fun,” Brendon giggled drunkenly. Ryan sighed again, half in annoyance and half in pleasure before walking backwards towards their bus. Brendon moved from his neck to his lips again and following him awkwardly.

They made out against the bus for a while, low moans fading to disappear in the air. Bob felt bad for watching but couldn’t look away. It was interesting as well as hot. Brendon didn’t seem like the drunken fuck type. Hands were disappearing beneath clothes before Ryan came to his senses and pulled back.
“We need to find you a boyfriend already Bren, I’m not going to do this forever,” Ryan mumbled before dragging his friend onto the bus.

Bob decided to give Frank some alone time and stayed outside for a little longer. He was even more intrigued than before. So Brendon was gay and alone and more than that, he wasn’t handling the loneliness very well. Bob remembered going through that phase. Figuring out you’re gay then getting drunk and doing anything to feel less alone, even letting your best friend fuck you, or vice versa. It was a hard thing being gay and not knowing anyone else, feeling so alone. After a while he’d forgotten about Brendon and was once again absorbed in his writing.

When Ryan stepped off his bus, already smoking he suddenly remembered Bob had been sitting not far away and looked over to see him still sitting there. Bob jumped when Ryan sat down across from him. His eyes flicked to the cigarette in his hand and he nearly smiled at the thought of a smoke after sex, so cliché. Ryan didn’t really seem like the smoking type either. He didn’t talk at first, he just sat there smoking and staring at Bob, as if trying to figure out his motives in life. Bob eventually scribbled a few more lines down and but he didn’t become absorbed in his writing again, Ryan was still watching him and it was unnerving.

“What kind of writing do you do?” Ryan asked eventually. Bob looked him over guardedly. He didn’t like talking about his writing; just like he never let anyone read it, except Frank.
“Stories, a bit of poetry, nothing much,” he mumbled after he had figured out Ryan was merely asking so when he talked about what Bob saw he wouldn’t sound too blunt. Ryan nodded and muttered something about ‘good’ before looking back over at his bus. Bob was missing his privacy so he decided he’d just push the subject forward so it was over sooner.

“You don’t have to say anything. I saw nothing, you did nothing, and whatever else you’re going to say.”
Ryan looked over at him, looking shocked and defensive. He couldn’t think of anything to say though, so they just sat there in silence. Bob rolled his eyes a little at the guitarist’s silence. The poor kid needed to talk to someone. Bob closed his notebook and looked at Ryan expectantly.
“I’m not gay,” Ryan said after a while. Bob raised an eyebrow but didn’t say anything; if the kid needed to talk to someone he wasn’t going to brush him off.
“I’m not, I don’t let him fuck me. I’m just helping out a friend, he hasn’t got anyone else. It’s hard to see him so alone and self-destructive, it’s the only reason he drinks. I don’t know what else to do…I’m not gay.”

Bob nodded to show he understood and he did. Frank had done the same thing for him when he went through the same phase, that’s why they were so close. Frank happened to be bi-curious at the time though so it was a little different.
“Don’t t-”
“Tell anyone, I know.”
“Yeah but don’t let Brendon know you know either. He’s not open about it, one of the reasons he’s so depressed. It’s the reason he’s alone too, he won’t let anyone in.”

Bob coughed slightly at that to hide the laugh. Ryan sighed and rolled his eyes as if Bob was an immature little kid. Ryan was just about to say something else but was cut off by Gerard yelling from the bus, “Frank wants his Bobby Bear to tuck him in and kiss him goodnight. I swear to god if you don’t get your ass in here now I’ll make you. He won’t stop whining.”
Bob chuckled and said ‘goodnight’ to Ryan before grabbing his notebook and walking over to his bus. He was quite relieved. He knew Ryan was about to ask about Frank, that wasn’t something he wanted to discuss with a stranger, even if that stranger had confided in him.


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