Press was not something Ryan bode well with. They certainly liked him - he was friendly enough, apparently intriguing, and occasionally an interviewer would have the talent to make him a little more comfortable so he wasn't entirely boring or awkward. Ryan, though, despite never showing it in any way, hated when the spotlight was directly on him or he had to talk for too long or a camera was capturing him. He could deal with being in the sidelines or writing in answers, like when magazines talked to them over e-mail or something. Unfortunately when the band was all sat down or caught off guard by an interviewer and a camera crew they targeted the singer and the lyricist, and Ryan sort of had to nudge Spencer and Jon ahead to answer for him eventually or deliberately give as little information as possible so that they could finish the answer themselves.

When Brendon joined, though, not only did he bring a voice to the music, but he also became the head speaker for them all. Interviewers wanted his input and he was able to, willing to give it; when they asked for camera shots he was of course up front and center. They all brought their own unique qualities, of course, but the rest of the band was sort of Brendon's backup or accompanying act. Jon was all right at entertaining some sort of banter between himself and Brendon, and Spencer usually redirected them to actually answering questions and stating fact whenever they were goofing off too much. Ryan was comfortable with tacking on little comments here and there, but never leading answers or being the center of conversation. Hard to do that when half the questions were about all these new changes, though.

Luckily, interviews came few and far between in the beginning. When the next album was no longer just speculation to the general public and they knew it was going to be released soon, though - that's when they had to start setting aside entire days dedicated just to the press. The questions were more monotonous than usual because of all their 'recent' changes (recent to the public, anyway) - why did you decide to get a new vocalist, how did you choose him, is the next album gonna be very different now, etc. Sometimes it got personal and Ryan had no idea where they got some of this information, but assumed maybe LiveJournal despite the fact that he'd definitely deleted all the old entries that just skimmed the line of oversharing. They'd ask about Spencer's and Jon's girlfriends, or Ryan's home life, and everything about Brendon, because of course a fresh face's privacy was harder to invade. Spencer and Jon could make jokes to dodge it all. Ryan relied on someone else changing the subject or answering the question for themself.

What he found, though, was that it was easy to not get bothered anymore by the attention and the nerves that came with press days. They'd not had one with Brendon in the band yet. The very first question Ryan was asked, he instinctively looked straight at Brendon, and suddenly it was a million times easier to get his message across without worrying about stumbling or being misunderstood or judged. So, of course, each interview was spent this way: occasional glances at the camera to acknowledge its existence, but mostly keeping his eyes on Brendon or whoever was talking next. He was all right at keeping his hands to himself, at least. The band was so tightly knit with no concern for boundaries that they lounged all over each other anyway, but still Ryan sat with his fingers knit together, body folded in on itself most of the time. In retrospect maybe he hadn't come across very approachable in all this.

In any case they ended up so far from home, having taken too many roads or connected flights, that they had to stay in a hotel overnight, and now since they were apparently high rollers could afford two rooms. Ryan was pretty confident he wouldn't miss the days of all three of them (and, when on tour, the rest of the crew the label paid for) crammed into a single room. Alas, this time, he was quick to switch keys with Spencer just so he could share with Brendon, and the first thing he did upon arrival to the room was throw himself onto the mattress, legs still extended so his feet were on the floor. He shoved his hands up against his face, finally allowing himself to look anguished. "Most embarrassing day of my life," he mumbled into his palm, evidently still replaying every meeting since their early five a.m. morning to now, an equally early night of nine. "And we have another tomorrow. I'm gonna say I'm sick."

Though he had been forewarned about the press and the media prior to even joining the band, Brendon hadn’t been prepared for this- three straight days of just interviews, talking to boring ass people asking questions that were 80% boring and obvious, 10% irrelevant or ridiculous, 10% kind of creepy and personal. For example, the first time Brendon had been witness to an awkward, kind of intense woman ask Ryan about his relationship with his father and how that influenced his songs. The answer to this question was obvious to anybody who actually listened to the lyrics of the song, which apparently this woman had not. Immediately, Brendon had sort of bristled, shifting a little closer to Ryan and using his forceful personality or cracking a passive aggressive joke to quickly change the subject. Ryan never voiced his appreciation aloud, but he didn’t have to. Brendon still didn’t know the full ins and outs of it all, because he hadn’t asked. The last thing he wanted to do to was to step over a line and make him uncomfortable- even if at this point hardly anything did, and they were sleeping in the same bed whenever it were possible, for God’s sake.

For all the shortcomings, interviewing had its advantages- some of the people, though rare, were cool, asking relevant and interesting questions and having personalities that weren’t completely 2-dimensional. Plus, Brendon was most at ease in the spotlight, and wasn’t ashamed to admit that he basked in the attention that being a new member and the lead singer brought. He was a crowd pleaser, doing most things asked of him and answering all questions with good humour, though he was always on alert, fully aware of Ryan looking at him most of the time and thinking to himself that Ryan might as well just be all over him, he was making it so obvious. He didn’t voice this, though, because he was aware that he was now Ryan’s anchor, his go to when he got anxious and needed to ground himself on something. Apparently Brendon was the answer to his problem of nerves and self-consciousness, a role Brendon accepted but didn’t really fully understand.

Today, though, was different. As loveable as everybody thought Brendon was, he sometimes received comments from interviewers and fans alike about how hyperactive he was, how he couldn’t sit still, how he ‘dominated the conversation’ and ‘wouldn’t let anybody else get a word in’. Now, Brendon had been diagnosed with adhd when he had been a kid, and had never once taken advised medication for it apart from once, when his mother got a call from school asking how much sugar she gave him. It had gone awfully, a younger Brendon had been closed off and quiet and unsettlingly out of it. So his mom said he didn’t have to take it and Brendon sort of learned to cope in other ways. He’d never thought twice about taking it again until now- when it was noticeable, easy to criticise, and his anxiety was also starting to rear its head, he made the decision to access the same ones he’d taken when he was younger, as well as some he hadn’t tried before for his anxiety, opting to ignore the adverse affects when he had been just a kid. The comments sort of got to him and he was worried about ‘ruining an image’.

They had certainly calmed him down, quietened him, but Brendon looked permanently uncomfortable all day, barely saying a word and when he did, he kind of stumbled over them, spoke slowly or just passed the question quickly onto one of his bandmates. He didn’t make much eye contact, and mostly stayed sat in the same enclosed position, staring at the ground or his feet or the wall. He felt sick and wrong and wondered whether it was supposed to feel like this, and he was frustrated because they were supposed to be the answer to his problems. Even if he had only noticed the ‘problems’ when other people, people who didn’t know him, pointed them out. By the end of the day, he was drained despite doing nothing, and weirdly tired. He was just glad to be back at a hotel with Ryan, and when they finally got into their room, he hung back for Ryan to go in then shut the door behind him.

Most embarrassing day of my life. Brendon watched Ryan absently, setting his jaw for a moment then wandering towards the bed. And we have another tomorrow. I’m gonna say I’m sick. He nodded in vague agreement, because he felt slightly sick as well. Brendon suddenly felt the urge to do something, anything, to feel a little more like himself, and moved onto the bed beside Ryan, climbing over him suddenly and resting a knee between his legs, leaning down to kiss him with whatever enthusiasm he could muster. He curled his fingers into Ryan’s hair, and for a moment, felt a little better. But his mind was somewhere else and he suddenly pulled back, shaking his head and moving aside. ”Sorry. I feel like- shit.”

As much as Brendon could stand the attention and just as well play off of it, it seemed like people were taken aback by his personality. The laid-back demeanor of the rest of the group was what people were used to, what they expected based on the small amount of publicity Panic had gotten thus far. Brendon, though, changed the game entirely - at first. When people commented more and more on his attitude and his hyperactivity and his general character, it seemed at first that Brendon could nod along and attest to his own behavior; then as time went on every time someone innocently 'noticed' him it sounded more like they were calling him out on his personality, something out of his control.

Ryan, kind of selfish when it came time to control themselves in the face of cameras and interviewers, hadn't even realised this, didn't consider that maybe all of it could bother Brendon. After all, once he'd initially come to terms with the fact that Brendon was a natural entertainer, he officially decided not to worry about him ever in regards to how attention would affect him. In retrospect, though, of course that many people commenting on the way that he acted would get to him - and of course he would do something to try to change it. The first day was normal, Brendon acting how he would usually, livening up the group and making everyone way more interesting than they actually were, naturally. The second day, though - he was no longer someone Ryan immediately looked to for help. Something was up, and now Ryan felt like he had to keep an eye on Brendon, make sure he was still with them both mentally and physically.

It was hard to describe. He just... looked like he wasn't fully there, like he'd checked out but left everyone with his shell so things looked normal. When interviewers directed questions to him, Ryan stepped in to answer, looking a little rude in the process but for a good cause. When Brendon was able to get a word in, it was slow, not elaborate. Even his movements were dead, slightly uncoordinated if he didn't put a tremendous amount of focus into it. Spencer and Jon seemed to pick it up, too, and they were barely attentive, so it must've been a big deal. The worst part was that Ryan had the smallest suspicion that maybe this wasn't just Brendon trying to act calmer - if he was doing it consciously, he would run out of energy to contain himself, wouldn't he? After a while he would have gone back to normal without meaning to. For the entire day, though, it seemed like he was trying to pick himself up, or at least hold himself together. Something was very wrong with this picture.

In an effort to feel normal, when they got back, he started absent conversation; Brendon was having none of it. It looked like he was sleepwalking. Dramatically enough, it hurt to watch. Miraculously, though, Brendon suddenly moved towards him rather than just forward, and Ryan grinned at him spontaneously, catching him once he'd climbed over. Ryan wrapped his arms around Brendon's waist, pulling him close when they kissed and effortlessly following the guidance of Brendon's hand in his hair. It started off fine, almost normal but like he was trying for it, and gradually Brendon seemed to lose the will. Ryan chased his lips for a second before faltering, gaze flickering over his features to try and deduce what exactly was going on for the umpteenth time. Sorry. I feel like- shit. "I know," he said instantly, face unchanging. One of his hands drifted up to trace his cheek, a vague attempt at being comforting, but mostly he was still stuck in his thoughts.

Without totally disconnecting, Ryan shifted back a little further, pulling them both until he was sitting straighter and more attentive. "What's different? Did something happen?" If something was going on at home or if he had a problem with the band, he'd probably have said something, but. Ryan didn't think that was even it. Physically Brendon even seemed different, his pupils slightly heavier and his skin paler now that Ryan was up close and in better lighting to see it. To be fair he had barely touched any food or water all day and that could've been part of it - but. These were symptoms of plenty unsavory things Ryan didn't really even want to consider. He may as well listen before jumping to assumptions.

Sure, Brendon was a natural entertainer, and people had just seemed to be entertained by his boundless energy in the past, but apparently the scrutiny of strangers had more of an effect on him than he had foreseen. Brendon wasn’t one to change for other people- not usually- but the pressure of being the front of of a now quite impressively successful band had caught him off guard, causing bouts of anxiety before shows and interviews that he managed to suppress and hide from everybody else, keeping it as much under wraps as possible, and then during said shows and interviews, his adhd meant he could barely sit still anyway- combined with underlying anxiety, it made for a dynamic, unpredictable mix, and sometimes his lively behaviour, though amusing and endearing, was slightly startling to witness. It was all normal for Brendon- constant movement, excessive talking, butting in and enthusiasm inappropriate for the gravity of the situation.

He’d never seen it as bad before or something that needed to be controlled; in fact, he never even felt the need to mention that he was diagnosed with it, because in Brendon’s mind, it made no difference. It wasn’t like he actively avoided the subject, it just never came up in conversation, and Brendon just never brought it up anyway. So, effectively, it was an open secret, unguarded, but nobody knew anyway. Now, though, he felt increased pressure to be quote-unquote ‘normal’, a little less intense, a little less domineering during conversations. So, the medication was an option, and one that he took; and for some reason, he felt apprehensive about making that fact public. It wasn’t like he was afraid Ryan would judge him, or something (Ryan took stuff for anxiety, he knew already), it was just... Alien, to him. He wasn’t used to it and it all just set him on edge.

So imagine his horror when he found that the medication he had hoped would mellow him out and allow him to be a better listener and more focused when he spoke to people (in a profession where communication with strangers was part of the job description in the form of rounds of intrusive questioning) simply made him feel like he was trapped inside a body that wasn’t his, slow and tedious, feeling mentally and physically like lead. He wasn’t fully there all day, not with it, just kind of staring at the walls and taking uncomfortably long to formulate answers or even register he was being asked a question. For once, Ryan was taking over the questioning. He distantly felt affection, and appreciation, but was way too out of it to express it in the slightest even though he wanted to. It was usually Brendon dominating interviews, generally, and Ryan was the one who tended to sit and just give his thoughts when it was only absolutely necessary; for Ryan to do readily fill in his role just because he sensed that Brendon really wasn’t right made him feel a little better.

Even though he did kind of feel like a zombie, he managed to garner enough energy and spark to move forwards, with purpose, climbing onto the bed, sitting up and pressing in close to Ryan to meet him in a kiss, if only to prove to himself that he was fine, he was just overreacting. But he quickly lost the will and pulled back, and would have looked apologetic if he hadn’t then felt a little sick. I know. So it was obvious to Ryan that something was up. He didn’t know whether to be relieved or anxious that everyone else could potentially tell, too. Brendon let Ryan move him, and say as straight as he could. What’s different? Did something happen?

Brendon looked hesitant. He supposed there was no point dismissing it now. Though, in practice, speaking was harder than in his head- he felt like he was trapped inside of his own body, understanding what was going on but not being able to control it. It was terrifying. Had his brain short circuited? Brendon frowned, finally inhaling and exhaling and gathering his thoughts. ”So, I have adhd,” Brendon said slowly, studying Ryan. ”Diagnosed when I was- young,” When was it? He couldn’t remember, because it hadn’t mattered much to him till recently. Eight seemed too young, twelve maybe... He shook his head. ”Hasn’t- been a problem until recently. I first started taking medication today and I- fuck, I feel like shit. I don’t even know what it’s supposed to do.” Brendon nestled his head in the crook of Ryan’s neck, blinking furiously. ”It was because people kept saying I was too hyperactive or whatever.”

One of Ryan's favorite things about Brendon was his liveliness. As someone who surrounded himself with solemn poetry and tragic stories and depressing lyrics, it was nice to find a light in all the darkness; in fact Ryan was fairly certain Brendon was the one who breathed life and love into the new album (so much so he almost believed all the credit should just go to him, but Spence and Jon would probably object). Sometimes he was so exuberant it surprised other people, who reacted by mirroring him and drawing from his energy or got annoyed by it. Other times he was more lowkey, still clever and weird and playful but controlled, for no reason other than it being a quiet day or maybe he was tired out. Either way Ryan thought Brendon was ultimately the most charming out of all of them because of his personality, and he'd never seen it so different as it was now.

Even on the lazier days he didn't just shut down like that. Ryan felt tempted to call off the rest of the day, let them all go home or to whatever hotel was nearest and let him recover from whatever was going on. That was the thing, though; Ryan hadn't quite known him long enough to see him in every situation, therefore didn't know where this all came from. If it was how he acted when he was feeling depressed or something, it was awful. Ryan wasn't used to anything beyond 'suffering in silence' 'cause the only other two people he associated with were the most closed-off people in the world if you weren't asking directly. In fact Ryan wasn't even sure he could help, here. Maybe Brendon just wanted to be alone, which he'd certainly respect if that was the case, but letting him be by himself in this state was a worrying premise.

When they were alone and Ryan could finally address the issue, Brendon seemed a little torn on his knowing something was up. Of course he'd notice - but Brendon probably was trying to hide it. He nearly made to reassure him that it was likely just the band that saw something going on, but then again that'd presumably be a lie, considering the disappointment on some interviewers' faces when they couldn't get his attention or a word from him. Instead Ryan just asked, figuring even if he couldn't help he may as well know for future reference (and trying to dismiss the idea that something truly awful had happened to Brendon - mostly a nagging paranoia at the back of his mind, at this point).

So, I have adhd. Shocker. Ryan didn't really register any surprise, just nodded thoughtfully, wondering how exactly this could be relevant - it was nice to know, though. Another addition to the 'Brendon facts' repertoire. Diagnosed when I was- young. Hasn’t- been a problem until recently. Ryan speculated on what he meant by that. Was it a problem for him personally, trouble focusing or with his energy, or did he think it was a problem as it affected other people? If it was the latter, Ryan desperately wanted to reassure him that anyone who minded his bouts of hyperactivity could go fuck themselves; for the former he was already prepared to help Brendon feel a little normal again, find ways to cope, something. I first started taking medication today and I- fuck, I feel like shit. I don’t even know what it’s supposed to do. Oh. Ryan's expression gave way to a little bit of concern although he was trying not to react too extremely. Thing is, medication was not something he could really help with, and - although he knew Brendon was responsible enough to know how to deal - it could potentially be impacting his health.

He hadn't keeled over or anything, though, and here he was alive and sort of well, so. Ryan reminded himself to not overreact as always. He caught Brendon when he leaned into him, attempting to sooth with a hand stroking through his hair. He stayed quiet, trying to hear when Brendon spoke against his shoulder. It was because people kept saying I was too hyperactive or whatever. "What?" Ryan's gentle hold on him turned more into an embrace, suddenly feeling overprotective. "That's bullshit. You're - Brendon, you're perfect without medication. 'Too hyperactive'... fuck, if that's what they're calling it, it's my favorite thing about you." He pressed a kiss against Brendon's head, eyebrows knotted together in frustration with whoever these 'people' in question were. Brendon was so out of it he couldn't string sentences together without those little breaks, couldn't speak the same expressive way he did before. If that's what people preferred over him being excitable... Ryan was probably taking it all a little too personally, so he tried to tone it down before continuing.

"It clearly doesn't help, Bren. Is it okay - would you mind just, throwing it out? I mean, you don't want to take it, right? And don't feel like you have to because people are assholes. The way you are naturally is just... I'm in love with that version of you. There's nothing to change." It was hard not to get too corny about it, but. Ryan had successfully avoided the words 'amazing' or 'baby,' accidentally blurted out 'perfect' earlier, but whatever. Some cliches were allowed. He knew the way Brendon was feeling right now he probably had no capacity to respond to all of that, or maybe he didn't even fully register all of it, so Ryan pulled back a little just until he could look at him properly. "How are you feeling now? A little better than this morning?" He brushed some hair out of Brendon's face, smoothing his thumb over his temple and trying to ignore all of the signs of him being affected by medication. He looked so tired Ryan almost wanted to just leave him alone to sleep it off, but. Brendon also barely had any water or food that Ryan saw, maybe he could convince Brendon to deal with that issue first.