The Ones You Call Home (2/3)

[alwayseven]

Master Post

part one



It was bigger than Jon was expecting, and had the feel of having once been a warehouse, a painted concrete floor, exposed brick walls and wooden beams.

The front wall was glass window front, a set of low shelves running the length of the room with used books, old board games and local newspapers and magazines. There was a mix of overstuffed armchairs and sofas, tables and chairs and a couple of booths towards the back, with the kind of plush upholstery that made you want to lie down and take a nap.

To the right of the door was was a little stage, across the room from the coffee bar and deli case.

Jon stood in the doorway, scanning the room.

"There's Spencer," Brendon said, gesturing to the corner where a sofa and several arm chairs were positioned around an old wooden coffee table.

"Hey," Jon said, coming over to sit on the edge one of the chairs. Spencer looked up from his book, a smile lighting up his face as he took in Jon, and then Brendon.

"Hi, you came," he said, sitting up and setting aside his book. Brendon came and sat down next to Spencer, bouncing a little.

"Yeah, hope it's okay," Jon said. Spencer's hair was mussed, like he'd been running his hands through it. He was wearing pink today. Jon didn't know many guys who could pull off pink, but he couldn't help thinking that Spencer definitely could.

"Yeah, of course," Spencer said, almost eagerly. "Ryan's working and I'm just hanging out."

"Well, good," Jon said a little awkwardly.

Brendon was peering off towards the bar and he stood up suddenly, tugging the hem of his t-shirt down.

Jon shook his head, biting back his smile.

"What?" Spencer said, looking at him curiously.

"I'm really sorry," Jon said, face solemn.

Spencer quirked an eyebrow, waiting.

"Brendon's decided Ryan's going to be his first boyfriend." Jon tried not to laugh, but ruined it.

Spencer let out a startled choke of laughter, surprised. "And that's bad?"

Jon shook his head, earnest. "You don't understand. It's not just bad, it's really, really bad. Brendon doesn't know what ‘no’ means. He doesn't give up. Ever."

Spencer looked like he thought Jon was overreacting.

Jon shook his head sadly and Spencer grinned. "You'll see," Jon told him.

"I thought you said he came out to you when you were twelve," Spencer said quietly, watching Brendon across the room gesture wildly to the barista.

"Well, yeah," Jon nodded, "but he's sort of. Um, how I do I say this? He's kind of ridiculous?"

Spencer shook his head, obviously finding Jon to be the ridiculous one.

"I mean, I'm not even kidding, he has a whole file of ‘research’," Jon says meaningfully, hoping Spencer got it without Jon having to say it out loud. "But he's never done anything with anyone, he's waiting for something, I'm not really sure what."

"Wow," Spencer said, stunned, "you know way too much about him."

"Shut up," Jon laughed. "You try being his best friend, it's not like I can just shut my hearing off."

"So, is that reading for school or for pleasure?" Jon asked, gesturing to the book beside Spencer.

Spencer looked surprised. "Pleasure, it's one of the books of collected poems of Jack Kerouac," he said.

"No shit, is that Book of Blues?"

"You've read it?"

"I never wanted to be a writer, but he always makes me wish I was."

Spencer was looking at him oddly. "I know," Jon shrugged. "It's weird to me too."

"No, I'm sorry, I didn't mean anything bad by it, you just always surprise me."

"Yeah, well, you surprise me too," Jon said quietly, unable to look away. Spencer's eyes were really light today, he'd noticed that in the few weeks they'd known each other, the way Spencer's eyes seemed to change shades of blue with the weather or his mood.

He cleared his throat, suddenly, feeling warm. "I'm gonna get something to drink," he mumbled, standing up. "Do you want anything?"

"Hmm?" Spencer started, color blooming on his cheeks. He looked down for a moment, lips moving in words Jon couldn't make out. "I'm good," he said when he raised his head again.

Jon shoved his hands into his pockets and nodded. "Okay then," he said.

Brendon was leaning on his elbows against the counter. Jon bumped him with his hip. "Are you behaving?" Jon teased. Brendon had his chin resting in his hands, eyes following Ryan around.

"I always behave," Brendon said, clearly distracted.

Jon rolled his eyes.

Ryan came over to take Jon's order and he appeared to be ignoring Brendon but his face had more color it in than it usually did, and Jon thought how weird it was to see Ryan blush. It didn't look natural on him.

Jon took his iced coffee back to the sofa and sat on the opposite end, far enough away from Spencer that three other people could fit between them. It felt like the safest place to be, aside from outside, around the block.

“Tell me something,” Spencer said abruptly.

“Hm? What?” Jon looked up, startled.

Spencer shrugged, sheepish. “I don’t know, tell me something, anything.”

Jon tilted his head. “Um, I play guitar,” he said with a shrug, not really sure what Spencer was going for.

But Spencer’s face lit up, his eyes bright and his mouth curving in a sweet smile. Jon tried to rack his brain to think of something else that might get Spencer to look at him like that again.

“You do?” he laughed, shaking his head. “Me and Ryan, we had a band in middle school.” He got this look in his eyes, remembering.

“What do you play?” Jon asked, resisting the urge to scoot closer.

“Drums, and Ryan plays guitar. We were fucking awful,” he laughed.

“We should play together, sometime.” Jon said, smiling. “Brendon thinks he’s the next Freddie Mercury.”

“I should have known,” Spencer smirked.

Brendon came back over, bringing a ceramic mug that looked like it was filled completely with whipped cream. He was looking smug.

“I’m totally his favorite,” he sighed, sinking down in a chair, and bringing the mug to his lips.

Jon caught Spencer’s eye and they smiled at each other.

"Jon," Brendon said loudly, kicking out to catch Jon's attention.

"What, are you six?"

Brendon smirked. "I'm hungry."

Jon sighed. The problem with a hungry Brendon was, it would be the only thing Jon heard about until Brendon got fed. It was a lot like taking care of his aunt's crotchety old poodle.

Spencer gave Jon a sympathetic smile. "We can go grab something from around the corner, Ryan's probably hungry too. Hang on, I'll go ask him what he wants."

"You're my favorite Spencer Smith," Brendon smiled, putting his chin in his hand and all but batting his eyelashes.

"You're the most ridiculous person ever," Jon rolled his eyes.

"Jon, I think I'm breaking Ryan down," Brendon said, sitting upright and leaning across the coffee table.

"Why, because he gave you extra whipped cream?"

"I know these things," Brendon insisted. "You think Ryan is the type of guy to give extra whipped cream to anyone? Not likely."

Jon just stared incredulously at Brendon until Brendon shrugged, face breaking into a smile. "It could happen," he said softly. "I'm not a terrible guy to love." The last bit came out a little unsure and Jon wanted to kick himself.

"Yeah," he said, reaching out for Brendon's wrist. "Come here."

Brendon shuffled around the table and let Jon pull him down to the arm of the sofa, so he was half in Jon's lap. "I'm going to say this once, and then you can forget that we ever had this conversation, okay?"

Brendon was looking at him, his brown eyes a little sad. He nodded.

"Ryan would be lucky to have you," Jon said quietly, tucking his chin against Brendon's shoulder. "Don't fucking forget it."

Brendon sighed. "I was wrong," he mumbled, mostly a whisper, "you're my favorite."

"Yeah, you're kind of mine, too." Jon agreed, squeezing Brendon tighter.

Spencer cleared his throat. Jon looked up and Spencer was watching them, looking alarmed, as if he wasn't sure what he'd interrupted.

"All set?" Jon said smoothly, standing up and pulling Brendon up with him.

"Uh, yeah" Spencer hesitated. "Ryan wants a veggie burger, if that's okay with you guys. There's this cafe around the block that has everything you could possibly want."

Brendon wrapped his arm around Spencer's waist and took off with him, pulling Jon by the wrist.

"Bye Ryan," Brendon called over his shoulder.

Jon looked back at Ryan who was blinking at Brendon, as if wondering where he'd come from.

Jon ducked his head, hiding his smile and followed Brendon.

They grabbed their food to go and when they got back, Brendon made Ryan take a break and come sit with them.

"You can sit with me," Brendon said from the arm chair he was sitting in, patting his thigh hopefully. Jon thought he saw a hint of smile threaten to break across Ryan's face, but it was gone as fast as it had appeared and Ryan just sat in the chair next to Brendon.

Brendon pouted until Ryan reached across to grab a handful of Brendon's sweet potato fries like he did this everyday.

Brendon went still, looking so completely surprised that Jon resisted the urge to reach across and close Brendon's mouth for him.

"What are you guys doing after this?" Spencer mumbled around a mouthful.

Jon shrugged. "There's this party at one of Chelsea's friends' houses, I'm probably going to check it out." Jon had completely forgotten he'd promised he'd see Chelsea there. He hadn't actually thought about her all day.

Brendon made a face. "Boo, thumbs down," he muttered, a dark look furrowing his brow.

Spencer chuckled. "Not a fan?"

Brendon shrugged. "The androids scare me," he mock whispered and from beside Brendon, Jon swore he heard Ryan let out a surprised laugh that turned into a choking sound.

Jon and Brendon said goodbye to Spencer and Ryan and Jon drove Brendon home in silence. Brendon was in his own world, no doubt thinking about Ryan.

"Hey," Jon said, reaching out to catch Brendon's wrist. "You're kind of important," he said quietly. "Be careful with him."

Brendon looked surprised, speechless, which wasn't a look Jon was used to seeing on him. "Thanks," he said after second, quietly.

"I'll see you at school," Jon said and Brendon nodded.

The party was in full, chaotic swing when Jon pulled off the dirt road and into the driveway of the massive house.

"Hey! It's about time you showed your face, Walker," Adam shouted from above the din. He handed Jon a plastic party cup and Jon nodded his thanks.

He found Tom in the backyard, lying on a lounge chair with Holly.

"Chelsea's been looking for you," Tom said, holding his fist out to bump Jon's.

"Guess I'd better go find her," Jon agreed, sparing a hello for Holly and pushing back through the throng of people.

"There you are," she said when he found her in the kitchen, sitting on one of the counters as her friend Emma stood at the sink, washing her face.

"Emma had a bit of an accident," Chelsea said, gesturing to the remnants of puke in the garbage can. Jon grimaced. "Thanks for the warning, " he said, pulling Chelsea down off the counter.

"Hi," she murmured, wrapping her arms around his neck. "You're late."

"Yeah, sorry," he shrugged, brushing his lips across hers. "Family stuff."

"You're here now, want to go upstairs?"

Jon nodded and took her hand, following her through the living room up the stairs to several empty bedrooms.

* * *

Jon was going to kill Brendon. He was going to have to think of the most painful, brutal death imaginable, nothing was going to be punishment enough for being woken up after too little sleep, Brendon sitting on his chest and peering into his face, singing loudly, some ridiculous song Jon remembered from summer camp.

"Get off me," Jon groaned, pulling his pillow over his eyes.

Brendon bounced a little, causing the air to get trapped in Jon's lungs.

"Fuck," Jon hissed, pulling the pillow from his face and using it to smack Brendon as hard as he could.

"Ow," Brendon said, though he didn't sound like he was in much pain.

Jon opened his eyes, staring at the ceiling and trying to focus on counting to ten. That didn't work so he counted to twenty.

"Jon, get up, we have to go back to Sid's," Brendon urged, bouncing again.

"Seriously, get the fuck off me," Jon muttered, rolling to his side and dislodging Brendon.

Brendon lay sprawled on his back, legs in the air. "If I buy you breakfast and coffee will you stop being a grump?"

"And you'll pay for gas?" Jon said, turning to look at Brendon who was all big pleading eyes and pouting mouth.

"Yes," he nodded eagerly.

"Fine," Jon sighed and stumbled to his feet. "Let me take a shower, I reek."

"Hurry up," Brendon whined, flopping his arms against the mattress.

"One of these days I'm going to kill you," Jon said under his breath.

Twenty minutes later Jon wasn't quite as pissed off. He was freshly showered, he had his coffee and a breakfast sandwich from Jack in the Box. All was right, except for the fact that Brendon was chattering on about Ryan and Jon was tempted to leave him on the side of the road.

Jon was strangely disappointed when they walked into Sid's and Ryan informed them that Spencer wasn't there yet.

"I think he's on his way," Ryan said like he was reassuring Jon.

Jon threw his backpack on the sofa and claimed the end. "Brendon, can you get me another?" Jon pleaded, pressing the heel of his hand to his eyes.

Spencer showed up half an hour later when Jon was engrossed in a reading for his history class.

“Thank God you’re here,” Jon sighed, relieved when Spencer sat down on the couch opposite Jon.

Spencer grinned.

“You have to save me from boredom. And history,” Jon gestured toward his pile of books with a grimace.

“Hey, so I brought you something,” Spencer said, pulling his backpack across his lap and digging inside.

He came up with an old copy of a book worn around the edges. It was Dharma Bums, the first edition.

“Holy shit,” Jon gasped, mouth falling open.

“Sorry it’s not in good shape,” Spencer said, apologetically, “it used to be my dad’s.”

“Wow, this is really great, I’ll get it back to you as soon as I’ve read it, thanks.” Jon said, taking the book and wishing he didn’t have hours of history reading to do.

“No, it’s for you,” Spencer said earnestly. “I have a different copy, that one’s yours.”

Jon didn’t know what to say. He blinked and sat looking for something to say that meant more than a simple ‘thank you.’ He couldn’t think of anything so he settled for “thanks.”

Spencer’s cheeks flushed pink and he shrugged it off. “No problem,” he said, no big deal.

* * *

The week leading up to Homecoming Jon tried a number of times, and with a number of different bribes, to get Spencer to agree to come to the damn dance.

“Look,” he said brightly, cornering Spencer after break right before third period. He held up a large coffee, hazelnut with whipped cream, Spencer’s favorite. He hoped.

“Aww,” Spencer said sweetly, “thanks, and no, I’m still not coming. But thanks for thinking of me.” He ducked his head, grinning, and took off down the hallway towards his next class.

“You’re not welcome,” Jon yelled after him.

His stomach did this strange flip flop thing as Spencer turned back to look at him and just laughed, grin splitting his face.

“Okay then,” Jon mumbled beneath his breath.

* * *

Jon spent the day of homecoming with Ryan, Spencer and Brendon at Sid's and left them at five, making a face.

"Have fun!" Brendon said brightly, his chin tucked against Ryan's shoulder. Ryan was scowling and looking like he was trying not to throw Brendon off. "Take lots of pictures so we can see how hot you look."

Jon gave Brendon the finger and pushed past Spencer, who reached out as if to touch him and then pulled back on second thought. "Have a good time," Spencer said with an encouraging smile.

"Thanks, call me later?"

Spencer titled his head back to look up at Jon, a small smile curving his lips. He nodded.

Jon felt weird, a knot in his stomach, a fluttering maybe. He gave Spencer a smile of his own that felt tight and took off.

His mom was waiting for him when he got home. "I picked the corsage up from Zupan's, Chelsea will love it," she said, rushing out into the hall and holding up a red tie. "I saw this at Macy's the other day, I think it would look lovely on you."

Jon sighed a put upon sigh, feeling like some kind of dress up doll. "Mom, you promised you wouldn't make a fuss."

"Who's making a fuss? I just thought this would look nice with your eyes." Her eyes were twinkling, she looked pleased with herself.

Jon let out a breath and took the tie from her with a mumbled, "thanks."

"You're welcome, now hurry and get dressed so I can take some pictures of you to send your Mamie, she'll be thrilled to see you in your grandfather's coat."

Jon trudged up the stairs, thinking about Brendon and Spencer and wishing he hadn't felt the need to be a part of this stupid tradition.

Tom and Holly and Bill and Dave and their dates were meeting him and Chelse at the Thai restaurant on Broadway before the dance.

Jon was grimacing at his reflection in the full length mirror in his parents' bedroom when his phone buzzed with a text message. It was from Spencer. "Have fun 2nite, come to Sids 2morrow."

Jon grinned and hit "reply." "I look like my dad, kill me."

A minute later there was another. "Bdon sez he bets u look hot."

Jon took a last look at his mirror image and shrugged. "Not bad," he texted back, smiling to himself.

His mom and dad were waiting for him with the camera ready when he came down the stairs.

"You look handsome, sweetheart," his mom said, beaming at him.

His dad took a couple pictures of him alone and then one of him with his mom.

"You don't want to be late," she said, ushering Jon out the door with Chelsea's corsage.

Chelsea looked really pretty, her hair curled around her shoulders, her skin kind of shimmering.

"You look good," he told her. She beamed, and he felt a twinge of guilt.

Jon's phone buzzed again as they were waiting for their entrees. Jon felt a rush and flipped open his phone.

It was from Spencer, like he'd hoped. "U were right, Bdon is persistent."

Jon bit back a laugh. Chelsea was leaning over talking to Holly so Jon hit "reply." “What's happening?"

Jon sat back, waiting and looked over at Tom who grinned at him, wriggling his eyebrow. Jon smirked.

The next text from Spencer said, "I think hes tryin to woo Ryan?"

Jon snorted out loud and shook his head, wishing he was there instead of at this table of people who were his friends but who he had never felt further away from.

* * *

Jon made it through an hour of tacky decorations, chaperones monitoring distance between couples as they danced and the lame late nineties pop the DJ was stuck on.

A little before nine he curled his fingers around Chelsea’s wrist and pulled her out where the music wasn’t quite as loud.

“Can we get out of here?” he asked, trying to keep from looking too much like he was pleading.

Her face lit up and Jon felt like kicking himself. He was pretty sure leaving her at her house was not what she was expecting.

When he pulled up to the curb of her house, idling, she gave him a confused look.

“I uh, I have a family thing,” he said lamely.

“Okay, you know what?” She said, turning to look at him. “I’m not an idiot. I know you’re not interested anymore.”

Jon opened his mouth and she cut him off. “It’s fine, it’s not like we’re in love or anything. But you could have had the balls to say something instead of stringing me along.”

Something softened in her expression. “Thanks for trying to play along, even though it’s pretty clear you weren’t into the whole thing. It was fun for a little while.”

She gave him a sad smile and let herself out of the car.

* * *

"Wow," Spencer said softly, looking up at Jon, taking in his tie and coat.

Jon shrugged. "I don't clean up so bad," he said with a smile.

"Um, so, what are you doing here?" Spencer said, looking a little confused.

Jon was asking himself the same thing. There was a girl who wanted to be with him, a party he should be at with his friends and instead he was here. Again. It felt like he spent all of his free time here lately.

"I don't really know," Jon admitted with a shake of his head. "The dance was boring as fuck and I kept thinking how much I'd rather be here with you." Spencer's eyes widened, looking pleased and Jon blanched. "You guys, with you guys," Jon blurted.

"Well," Spencer said, his eyes gleaming, "you're just in time. It's not as fun watching Brendon try to flirt with Ryan by myself."

Brendon was by the counter, his hoodie tied around his waist backwards, like an apron and he was wiping down the counter.

"Uh," Jon choked on a laugh. "What's he doing?"

Spencer bent his head closer to Jon to look around him. "I was hoping you'd tell me," he said, looking genuinely concerned. "Maybe it's some weird mating ritual I've never heard of? I can ask my anthropology teacher on Monday." Spencer's shoulders were shaking, a silent laugh that made his eyes look like they were shining.

"He's a really good guy," Spencer said when he'd stopped laughing. He had moved to the edge of the sofa, his books spread out on the coffee table. He was bent forward, one hand braced flat on the table. It made his t-shirt ride up a little, the line of his back curved. Jon cleared his throat and sat back against the pillows, looking back towards the counter where Brendon was rearranging the sugar canisters.

He'd seen Brendon infatuated before. It usually passed, Brendon didn't seem to have much of an attention span when it came to relationships. If Brendon throwing himself into a one-sided crush could be counted as a relationship. Ryan was like a shiny new toy to Brendon, and sooner or later, when nothing happened, he'd move on to the next preoccupation. And Jon would be there for that too.

"And someday, someone is going to see that," Jon said quietly, eyes still on Brendon.

He watched Brendon lean across the counter to tell Ryan something.

"You care about him a lot."

It took Jon a second to pull his thoughts back and realize that Spencer was giving him a look, quietly appraising, that Jon couldn't quite figure out. He shrugged. "He's my best friend."

Spencer opened his mouth, about to say something, and then he seemed to think better of it.

"The funny thing is," he said after a little while. "Ryan's falling for it."

Jon looked up sharply. "What? He's completely ignoring Brendon."

Spencer let out a sigh that sounded weary, like this was a conversation he'd had before. "Yeah, well. Ryan's a little...stunted." Spencer bit his lip against a smile and Jon watched him disappear into his thoughts for a second.

After a minute, Spencer said,”look,” and gestured to where Brendon was leaning on the counter talking a mile a minute at Ryan who was fixing drinks and looking bored. “He’s listening to everything Brendon’s saying. If he wasn’t, he’d be looking right at him, trying to make it look like he was listening.

Ryan was looking down, eyes focused on the milk steamer but now that Jon was paying attention, he could see the slight pink on Ryan’s cheeks.

“Huh. It’s sort of weird how you know that.” Jon shook his head, pretty sure he could have a lifetime to get to know Ryan and he’d never understand him.

Spencer smiled, a soft curve of his lips that made him look younger.

“So what,” Jon said, wincing at how sharp his voice sounded suddenly. “Is this a game he plays?”

Either Spencer didn’t notice or he chose to ignore the change in Jon’s tone. “Ryan doesn’t play games. But he’s not going to do anything either, this is all Brendon.”

“Well,” Jon relaxed a little. “Get ready for a long fall. Brendon doesn’t give up. Ever.”

“Then this should be pretty fun,” Spencer grinned.

"You want anything?" Jon asked, getting to his feet.

Spencer shook his head. "Thanks, though," he mumbled, bending back over his book.

Jon came up behind Brendon, putting a hand on his hip, tucking his chin over Brendon's shoulder.

Brendon whipped around, startled. He looked confused for a second and then his face broke into a grin. "Hi, what are you doing here?"

Jon shrugged. "I missed your stupid face."

Brendon pushed his elbow back into Jon's stomach.

"What are you doing?" Jon said quietly, his mouth hovering near Brendon's ear.

"I'm keeping Ryan company," Brendon said rather loudly.

Ryan was wiping down the counters. He had his hair flat ironed again today, his bangs pulled off to the side of his face, hanging in one eye.

"Hi Ryan," Jon nodded at him. Ryan looked up, eyes narrowing as he took in Jon's hand on Brendon's hip.

Jon grinned. Huh, Spencer was right.

He let go but he didn't step away. "Can I have a latte?"

Ryan looked like he was going to argue but he snapped his mouth shut and nodded, spine rigid.

"Remind me never to piss Ryan off," Jon said shaking his head when he came back to where Spencer, his latte in hand.

"It probably doesn't seem like it at first, but yeah, he has a pretty wicked temper." Spencer shrugged, a rueful smile on his lips.

Jon’s phone rang then, startling him. “Dude, what the fuck happened with you and Chelsea?” Tom cut in as soon as Jon answered.

Jon grimaced. He made an apologetic face at Spencer and went outside to let Tom rant at him.

“I just took her home,” Jon said quietly, aware of the busy street and the Saturday night crowd out enjoying the warm weather.

“You fucking killed my chance with Holly tonight. Chelsea called her.”

Jon winced. “Uh, yeah, shit. Sorry about that.”

“So what was so important that you had to cut out early?”

“Nothing, I just wasn’t feeling it.” Jon could hear how lame that sounded even to himself.

Tom was silent.

“I’m sorry I ruined your night,” Jon said feeling sheepish, like a chastised child.

There was another moment of dead silence and then Tom said in a short, clipped tone, “you’ve been weird lately.”

Jon straightened up from where he’d been leaning against the wall. What? “No, I haven’t. I just didn’t want to be at the stupid fucking dance. Fuck.” He was gritting his teeth, he realized. He relaxed his jaw and took a breath that felt a little shaky.

“See? That’s what I’m talking about. Since when do you turn down a chance to get laid? Especially with a girl like Chelsea.”

Jon blew out a breath. It was like trying to have a rational conversation with a fire hydrant.

“Okay, you know what? I don’t want to have this conversation right now. I’m hanging out with friends, so I’ll catch up with you on Monday.” Jon ended the phone call before Tom could say anything else.

Jon couldn’t remember the last time he’d hung up on anyone and he didn’t think he and Tom had ever gotten into it without some sort of immediate resolution.

Jon waited until he didn't feel quite so worked up before going back inside. Brendon was sitting next to Spencer, his elbows on his knees, chin in his hands as he listened to something Spencer was saying.

Jon's smile took him by surprise, though it probably shouldn't have. Brendon had been cheering him up for close to eleven years, in quiet, subtle ways that Jon hadn't ever put much thought into.

Spencer stopped talking when he looked up and saw the expression on Jon's face. "Everything okay?"

Jon shrugged and sat in the chair on the other side of the coffee table. "I might have pissed off a couple people by leaving early," he admitted. It was something that seemed to be happening a lot lately.

* * *

Jon spent Sunday with Tom. They drove out to the teriyaki place on Cedar Hills Boulevard and they didn’t say much to one another until Jon finally said, “look, I know I’ve been different. Maybe I’m just restless. Senioritis or something.”

Tom had his head bent over his rice bowl and he looked up, mouth full. “You’d tell me if anything was going on with you, right?” He said when he’d swallowed.

Jon blinked. He couldn’t remember a time when he had ever needed to tell Tom anything. They were close, but that’s what Brendon had always been for. Tom was his best friend, but Jon hadn’t ever thought of him as anyone he wanted to confide in. Not that Jon had anything to confide.

He nodded. “Yes, of course.”

Tom looked at him hard for a second and then he nodded once, mollified.

“I know you know this,” he said as they were leaving. “But you gotta fix things with Chelsea.” He smiled a rueful smile. “And not just for me and Holly.”

“I will,” Jon agreed, and couldn’t think of anything he’d rather do less.

* * *

"Hey," Jon said at lunch on Tuesday, nudging Spencer.

Spencer looked up from his homework he was catching up on, hair falling in his eyes. Jon resisted the urge to reach out and sweep them off his forehead. He bit his lip.

"Do you want to come over tomorrow? We can listen to that album I was telling you about." Jon said it quietly, just for Spencer's ears.

Spencer blinked. "Yeah," he nodded.

"Okay," Jon smiled. Spencer's eyes faltered, drifting down for a brief second and then he was dragging them back up, cheeks faintly pink.

* * *

Jon gave Brendon a ride home on his way to work and listened to Brendon talk about how tragic it was that Ryan was straight.

"Okay," Jon sighed as he pulled into Brendon's driveway. He braced an arm across the back of Brendon's seat and leaned forward. "If you tell him I told you this, I will absolutely deny it and then I'll kill you."

Brendon did everything but bounce in his seat, eyes wide, giddy. "I promise," he breathed, beaming.

"Spencer says Ryan's into you."

Brendon's mouth dropped open and Jon watched, stunned, as color bloomed high on Brendon's cheeks.

"Huh," Jon said, sitting back. "I've never seen you blush before."

Brendon ignored him. He had disappeared off into his own land and Jon didn't think it likely that he was coming back anytime soon. Jon shooed him out the door. "I'll see you tomorrow," he called through the open window, shaking his head as Brendon tripped over his own feet and nearly face planted on the stairs.

* * *

"You should have seen him," Jon laughed into the phone, driving down Vista after work.

He could hear Spencer chortle over the line, the reception weak. "I wish I had, I bet it was priceless."

"He was gone, the minute I told him he was off in la la land, probably planning the wedding."

Spencer snorted and Jon smiled, picturing him shaking his head and smiling.

* * *

"Um, Mom, this is Spencer," Jon said, introducing his mom.

"Spencer, it's a pleasure to meet you," his mom said warmly, shaking Spencer's hand. "Dinner's at six," she called over her shoulder, disappearing into the kitchen.

"She's nice," Spencer said as he followed Jon up the stairs.

"Tell me you saw last night's American Idol," Jon said, flopping onto his bed on his belly.

Spencer grinned and sat gingerly at the edge of the mattress when Jon gestured encouragingly. "My sisters are sort of addicted, so we watch it with my mom."

"Oh come on," Jon rolled his eyes, "admit it, next to Gossip Girl, it's the best show on TV."

Spencer smirked. "Sometimes I can see why you and Brendon are such good friends."

"There's no denying good taste," Jon said, nodding his head. "So hey," he said, rolling to his feet and reaching for his iPod. "My speakers aren't working," Jon said as he remembered. "Uh, I hope this is okay." He moved so he was lying on his belly and held out one of the earbuds to Spencer.

Spencer sat, blinking for a second at Jon before he kicked out of his shoes and rolled to his stomach. "Thanks," he mumbled, grabbing the earbud from Jon and pushing it into his ear.

"You're going to love this," Jon said, scrolling through his list of albums. "It'll change your life, I swear."

Jon hit play and closed his eyes as the beginning guitar riff slid down his spine just the same as the first time he’d heard it.

Jon opened his eyes to glance at Spencer. He had his arms folded beneath him, cheek resting on his hands, eyes closed. His face was slightly tilted up, this incredibly warm, peaceful expression making him look younger.

Jon rested his chin in his palm and just watched Spencer.

It was one of the sexiest songs Jon had ever heard, he still remembered the first time his older brother had played it for him, the way it made him feel.

Lying here on his bed with Spencer like this wasn't any different than the hundreds of times he'd done this with Brendon or Tom, except it was in the way Jon felt as if he was hearing this song for the first time all over again, watching Spencer listen to it, the way his face changed.

The song ended and neither of them moved. "Uh," Jon said intelligently, his throat dry. He didn't know what to say and he didn't want to move. He played it again.

Spencer made a low, pleased noise like a purr almost and rested his cheek on the bed, face turned towards Jon, eyes closed. His cheeks were pink, his lower lip a little swollen like he'd been chewing on it.

Jon took a breath meant to steady him but he inhaled and all he could smell was Spencer, a little like soap, a little salty like maybe he'd been sweating, but clean. It had been a while since he'd gotten hard listening to this song, since he realized this is what sex sounded like. But he was, his dick trapped uncomfortably. He shuddered and tried to hide the press of his hips against the mattress. It was the song, that was it, nothing to do with the fact that Spencer was less than a foot from him and he smelled good.

Jon closed his eyes and tried to block everything out. He concentrated on playing the cords in his head, counting the beats. It worked enough that he felt he could take a steady breath and open his eyes.

And then it was just as intense all over again, Spencer's face suddenly closer than he remembered, his lips wet and parted, eyes closed and face tilted up like he was having a religious experience. That was about how Jon felt the first time he'd listened to the album.

Suddenly, Jon wanted nothing more than to be alone.

He moved to get up and Spencer opened his eyes, startled, clearly having forgotten where he was, forgotten about Jon. He flushed red and looked down, eyes unfocused.

Shit. Jon didn't want to embarrass Spencer. He'd been lucky enough to have an understanding older brother. Spencer was pushing himself up and Jon reached out, unthinking, and grabbed his wrist with the intention of telling him it was okay, of pushing him back down. But Spencer was startled and Jon pulled too hard and Spencer ended up falling sideways with a surprised breath, bracing himself at the last second with his hand on Jon's shoulder, their thighs pressed together.

Spencer's eyes widened, panicked. Jon groaned as Spencer's knee came up between his thighs, making it clear that Jon was hard.

He closed his eyes, head falling back against the mattress and tried to will the earth to open up and swallow him whole.

But Spencer was shaking, his fingers curled into Jon's arm barely holding him up and Jon could feel how hot his cheeks were but he shook it off.

"Hey," he said softly, opening his eyes. Spencer was still except for the shaking, eyes wide and looking at Jon, face red.

Jon watched from somewhere in the back of his mind as his hand came up to cup the back of Spencer's neck, fingers curling in the sweat damp hair. He lifted his head, brought Spencer closer and brushed his lips across Spencer's, a brief, closed mouth kiss that did nothing to calm the heat and adrenaline rushing through him. If anything, Spencer's sharp exhale, the slight hitch in his throat, the faint stickiness on his lips, it all made Jon harder.

Jon waited for Spencer to pull away, to freak out. He waited for his own freak out which was going to come as soon as he could think with his brain again. But Spencer didn't move, not to pull away and not to kiss Jon back, he just held himself as still as possible. But Jon could feel how fast his heart was beating, he could feel how warm Spencer's skin was. He changed the angle and kissed Spencer again, a little longer this time, parting his lips over Spencer's, teeth catching the sensitive flesh on the inside of Spencer's lower lip. Spencer's arm gave out then and he slipped, fell against Jon with a sharp intake, and there they were, lined up and pressed together everywhere it was possible to be.

Spencer was panting and he felt like a skittish rabbit, hovering over Jon and looking like he was going to flee. Jon waited for the rational part of his brain to come back, to make himself push Spencer off. Instead, when Spencer's mouth moved, lips parting, breath warm against Jon's mouth, Jon curled his fingers harder in Spencer's hair, placed the palm of his other hand flat, low on Spencer's back where the skin was warm and damp, and licked at the place his teeth had been, the soft inside of Spencer's full lower lip.

Spencer shuddered and opened his mouth, shifted his weight to his other knee, forcing himself more firmly against Jon. Jon was almost a hundred percent sure this was Spencer's first kiss. He was also positive this was the hottest kiss he'd ever experienced and they'd done nothing more than share breath so far.

Jon's dick was doing all the thinking for him. It was just as well since once his brain reappeared, he was going to be due for a huge meltdown. But for now, he used his hold on Spencer's neck to tilt Spencer's head back just enough that he could lick along the seam of Spencer's lips until Spencer shook and shuddered his tongue came out, licking his own lower lip. Jon touched the tip of his tongue to Spencer's, used the leverage to slide it, wet and slick, against Spencer's.

Spencer relaxed, let his weight settle on Jon so he could feel the heat of Spencer's skin even through two layers of cotton.

Jon's thumb stroked over the hollow at the base of Spencer's skull. He kissed Spencer until he couldn't remember why this wasn't supposed to happen.

And then Spencer made a low noise in his throat and pulled away. Jon opened his eyes. Spencer looked absolutely wrecked. His face was flushed, his skin damp, hair hanging in his eyes. And if Jon had never known what arousal looked like, all he had to do was take a look at Spencer.

"Okay." It took two tries to make the word come out, his throat was hoarse, his voice gone. It was the response to a question no one had asked.

Jon fell back against the mattress and forced both hands to the bedspread, fingers curling and holding on to keep from reaching for Spencer again. He stared up at the ceiling and tried to count to ten. It didn't help so he counted again. Finally he said, "if you give me a few minutes, I'll take you home."

Spencer moved abruptly, remembering where he was, straddling Jon. "Uh, okay," he nodded, voice nothing but a whisper.

Jon rolled to his feet, did nothing to hide the fact that his dick was hard, pushing against the seam of his jeans since Spencer could have no doubt how turned on Jon was, and disappeared into the bathroom.

He considered getting into a cold shower, clothes and all and standing there until he was freezing and he was no longer a breath from coming his brains out. Instead, he leaned against the door, grabbed a dirty t-shirt from the hamper, and unzipped his jeans. He shoved his hand into his underwear, palm damp with sweat, and hunched his shoulders. It took less than a minute, several frantic, clumsy strokes and he was coming, teeth digging into his lip to keep from making noise. He caught most of it in the t-shirt, used it to clean himself off and tucked himself back into his jeans. He shoved the shirt towards the bottom of the laundry basket and turned to catch a look at himself. He smelled like spunk, but more than that he looked like he'd just whacked off in the bathroom while Spencer was on the other side of the door, thinking who knew what.

He splashed his face with cold water, washed his hands and sprayed himself with some of the flowery body spray his brother's girlfriend had left over the summer.

He wasn't fooling anyone, he thought as he stepped back into his bedroom. Spencer was sitting with his back to Jon, hunched over himself as if in pain. Jon grimaced, feeling like an asshole for a million reasons.

"You ready?"

Spencer looked up. Jon braced a hand on the door behind him to keep from crossing the room and pushing Spencer back to the bed. He didn't look as if he'd calmed down any. If anything, he looked more.

Spencer nodded, lip caught in his teeth. But he didn't move. Awareness, recognition, flooded Jon with heat all over again. He turned his back to Spencer, grabbed his keys and took off down the stairs to give him the decency of being able to pretend he wasn't trying to hide an erection.

They didn't say anything on the drive to Spencer's. Jon rolled all the windows down with the pretense of being warm and Spencer was too polite, or embarrassed, to comment.

Jon idled at the curb. Spencer mumbled a quick "thanks" and let himself out of the car.

Jon watched him go and wondered if it was too late to transfer schools. Maybe he could go to Grant.

He'd been sitting at the curb in front of Spencer's house for ten minutes, he realized with a start. He was freaking out.

He dug into the pocket of his jeans for his cell phone and found Brendon's number. "coming over" he sent before he could think about it and put the car in drive.

Spencer's house, in southeast Portland, was twenty minutes from Brendon's, right around the corner from Ainsworth where they'd gone to elementary school together.

Brendon was waiting for him on the front porch when Jon pulled into the driveway. He was wearing his pink hoodie, the hood pulled up. "My parents are asleep," he said quietly, when Jon came up the steps.

Jon followed Brendon through the front door and into the kitchen. "I was making pancakes," Brendon said, gesturing at the mess on the counter.

Jon shaped his mouth into the form of a grimace meant as a smile.

Brendon's eyes widened. "Forget the fucking pancakes," he said, grabbing Jon's wrist and pulling him in for a hug. Jon held himself rigid, aware that he probably smelled like crap. Brendon didn't say anything, just curled his fingers in Jon's and pulled him up the stairs.

"Okay," Brendon said, all quiet concern, sitting on the edge of the bed. Jon stood where he was, by the door, just inside the room. Brendon waited. Jon thought about the way Spencer’s mouth had felt against his, the stickiness on his lips, the slide of his tongue.

"I kissed Spencer," he said suddenly, and curled his hands into fists, fingernails digging into his palms, to keep from fleeing.

But it wasn’t the whole truth. What had happened felt like a fuck of a lot more than a kiss. It was Spencer laid out above him, the press of his knee against Jon’s dick, the warmth of his skin beneath Jon’s palm, the sweet hitch in his breath when Jon’s tongue found its way inside his mouth.

A kiss was easier to explain, so he left it at that.

Brendon was unmoving. He was sitting at the edge of his bed, looking a little like Jon had just put his fist in Brendon’s stomach. He didn’t know what he’d been expecting, but it wasn't the hurt in his eyes, or the way his face completely shut down in a way Jon hadn’t ever seen before.

"When?" he said and his voice was flat, emotionless and Jon couldn't figure it out.

"Tonight, twenty minutes ago. I just, I needed to tell you. Why are you mad?"

Brendon closed his eyes. Jon watched as he sat completely still, like he was meditating, or counting to a hundred. When he looked at Jon again, his eyes were sad, but he didn't look angry.

"Okay," he said, scooting up the bed until he was leaning against the headboard. He gestured to the space next to him and Jon sat, pulling his knees up.

"I didn't know you liked him like that," Brendon said. He looked small, suddenly, smaller than usual. He had his arms around his bent knees, his cheek on his folded arm.

"I didn't either," Jon whispered. There was something he was missing here and he couldn't pinpoint it. It wouldn't be the first time something big went over his head.

He sighed and pulled Brendon against him, an arm around his shoulders. "Ryan likes you," Jon mumbled, pressing his mouth to Brendon's hair.

Brendon sighed but he relaxed a little into Jon. "This is not about me," he said, "but thanks."

They sat like that for a few minutes until whatever was going on inside of Brendon had seemed to calm a little.

"So what are you going to do?" He asked softly, lifting his head to look at Jon, his brown eyes a little watery.

"Nothing," Jon said. "I'm not gay."

"Yeah, I knew you were going to say that." Brendon said it with such a hollow look in his eyes, an angry lilt to his voice that Jon felt like he might throw up.

"Why are you pissed?" He asked after a minute, still confused, waiting for something to become clear.

"Why did you even come over here, Jon? Why did you tell me? What do you want from me?" Brendon asked quietly.

"You're my best friend. I needed to tell you."

"Why, because I'm gay?"

Jon scrambled off the bed, suddenly ticked. “No, dick, because I tell you everything. Because even if you weren't gay you'd understand and you wouldn't make me feel like shit. At least that's what I thought."

"Look," Brendon said, sounding a little shaky, "don't go. I'm sorry, I didn't mean any of that. I think. I think you just took me by surprise."

Jon stood there, looking at Brendon's defensive posture and he felt like whatever it was he was missing was right there he just couldn't grasp it.

"Come on," Brendon said, "stay with me. I'm sorry."

He pulled Jon back to the bed and they lay down, side by side, like they used to when they were in elementary school and they'd share all their secrets in the dark.

"I lied," Brendon mumbled after a while when Jon thought he'd fallen asleep. "I thought maybe you did like Spencer. Just. The way you look at him, the way he makes you smile. I knew." Jon didn’t know if it was sleep or something else that made Brendon’s voice sound small and far away like that.

Jon said the most honest thing he'd ever said out loud. "I don't want to."

Brendon took a shaky breath. “I know that, too.”

* * *

In the morning, Jon regretted last night with every bone in his body. He'd dreamed of Spencer, mostly abstract images that didn't make a whole lot of sense but left Jon panting and hard, sweaty and fucking miserable.

Worse was when he got to school, less than five minutes to run to his locker before second bell, and Spencer was waiting for him, eyes smiling, looking well rested and happy.

He was sitting on the floor in front of Jon's locker and he looked up, smiling when he saw Jon. He got to his feet and leaned against the row of lockers, watching Jon retrieve his books. Jon slammed the locker shut and turned to go without a word.

But Spencer wasn't Chelsea, or anyone else Jon had dated or fooled around with. He reached out and grabbed Jon's wrist, no longer happy and smiling.

He was stronger than Jon gave him credit for and he yanked Jon's arm back.

"That's it?" he hissed, all traces of his good humor gone. "That's what I get?”

He didn't look hurt, he didn't look like he might cry. He looked pissed.

"Look, I'm sorry, I shouldn't have- "

"Fuck you," Spencer said but it was low, laced with venom. There was no theatrics here. Jon should have known he wouldn't get that with Spencer.

Jon yanked his arm away. He couldn't look at him.

"You didn't have the fucking decency to say hi, to treat me like a fucking person." His jaw was rigid, his eyes flashing, bluer and angrier than Jon had ever seen. He took a step back and something crossed his face, and it was that hint of disappointment in his eyes that made Jon's stomach bottom out.

Spencer turned and took off, walking down the hall with his shoulders back, defiant, daring anyone to say anything.

Jon's day got worse after that when Brendon pulled him into the girl's bathroom in the art hall.

He hoisted himself up so he was sitting with his ass in the sink, pink Converses kicking against the pipes. He didn't look particularly upset but Jon knew better.

"Well, fucking say something," Jon scowled, throwing his backpack on the tiled bench by the windows.

"I'm not Tom," he said very quietly, dangerously low.

Jon bristled. "What the fuck does that mean?"

"It means I'm not Tom. I'm not going to let you slide by, I don't make excuses for you, I don't let you get away with being an asshole and I know what's going on inside your head." Brendon wasn't yelling, but he sounded pained.

"You don't have any clue-" Jon started but Brendon cut him off, rolling his eyes. "You're scared. You think kissing Spencer makes you gay. You think your fucking so called friends will drop you if you date a guy, and you've never felt this way about anyone. You're terrified."

Jon stared hard at Brendon but he just shrugged, crossing his arms over his chest, legs still swinging. "I've known you since I was five years old. I know things about you you won't even admit to yourself. I'm the one person in your life who doesn't need you to be anything than what you are. So quit pretending I can't see right through you."

It had always been one of the things Jon loved best about Brendon. Brendon loved Jon unconditionally, but he'd never let him get away with the excuses and all the other shit Jon pulled to keep from having to own up to his shortcomings and the things he hated about himself.

"He'd never tell you this, and he didn't say anything to me because he's too proud," Brendon said quietly, "but you fucking hurt him. So you better figure out what you want, and then you'd better find a way to make things right with him. Because you are so much better than that guy. You are not that guy."

"Are you done?" Jon sighed, exhausted.

"Yep," Brendon said, nodding.

"Fine." Jon grabbed his things and took off.

* * *

The next day Jon found Spencer in the cafeteria, at a table in the corner with Ryan and a couple of other sophomores. Ryan stood up abruptly as soon as he saw Jon, pushing his way through the tables to corner Jon.

"I need to speak to him," Jon said quietly.

"He doesn't want to talk to you," Ryan said sharply, unmoving. It wouldn't take much to lift Ryan out of the way, he looked like he weighed all of ninety pounds. But he wouldn’t go quietly and Jon hated scenes. It didn't matter though since Spencer was coming up behind Ryan, face closed off.

"Can I talk to you please?" Jon asked.

Spencer turned and walked in the direction of the narrow corridor off the cafeteria, towards the dungeon.

He stood, defensiveness in every line of his body, with his back against the wall.

"I just wanted to say I'm sorry."

"You know what? I don't even know why I was surprised. Ryan warned me about you."

Jon felt his face get hot. That stung, but it wasn't any less than he deserved.

"Can you just, keep this between me and you?"

"Wow," Spencer said, "you're an asshole."

"I just -"

"I know what you mean," Spencer grit out, eyes flashing. "I'm not going to tell anyone, you fucking dick."

Jon opened his mouth and Spencer shook his head, cutting him off. "Save it, I don't care." He spun and took off down the dark corridor. Jon watched him go feeling like he'd lost something bigger than he could really comprehend.

* * *

The thing about Brendon was, no matter how pissed or disappointed or hurt he was, he let you know about it. Brendon didn't do silent treatments.

He sat down next to Jon where Jon was sitting in the grass out back with Tom and Bill and the others. He opened his little brown lunch bag, pulled out his apple and his sandwich and handed Jon one of the vegan oatmeal cookies his mom had made.

"Thanks," Jon muttered. Brendon nodded, took a bite of his apple and turned towards Bill to ask him when his parents were going out of town again.

* * *

Jon came home from school and found his mom in the kitchen.

"Hey, Mom, can I talk to you for a second?"

His mom looked alarmed. She finished washing her hands and gestured for Jon to sit at the table. She joined him, looking concerned.

"I was thinking, do you think it'd be okay if I go to Seattle this weekend to stay with Nick?"

His mom relaxed slightly. "Is everything okay, honey?"

Jon nodded, lying. "He has tickets to a Sonics game," Jon said, figuring simpler was better.

"Let me talk to your father about it, but I think that'll be okay. Your brother's coming home next weekend, I know you'll want to be here for that. But I think it's a good idea."

Jon blew out a breath. "Thanks," he mumbled and headed upstairs.

He sent his cousin Nick a text. "mom says ok."

He left on Friday after school, barely missing the traffic over the bridge into Vancouver. It didn't rain, for once, and the drive up I-5 was nice, the mountains coming into view as the city rose up before him.

His cousins lived in West Seattle, in a quiet bohemian neighborhood a block from the water.

Nick came running out of the house when he heard Jon pull up. "Fucking finally, I thought you'd gotten lost."

Jon felt better than he had in weeks.

They drove downtown for the game, the five of them piled into the cab of his uncle Mike's truck. They ate pizza at Roma's and later hotdogs and popcorn during the game.

Jon and his brothers came up here every summer, and his cousins came down to Portland for a trip to the coast every August. Jon found himself wishing he could stay for a while. It was simpler up here, everything made sense away from the drama and stress of the last few months.

"You going to tell me what's going on?" Nick said when they were in bed, Jon in the bunk bed they'd never gotten rid of. He could remember being eight and sleeping in the top bunk, leaning down over Nick to whisper to each other long after they should have been asleep.

"It's nothing," Jon mumbled, folding his arms under his head and staring at the ceiling where he'd written "Jon J. Walker" in second grade.

"Bullshit, I know you didn't drive up here because everything's fine."

Jon yawned. "Life's just gotten a little complicated lately."

Nick snorted. "Tell me about it. Remember when we were in elementary school? You'd come up here and we'd talk about how cool it was going to be when we were in high school, when we were adults. I'd like to go back there. What a bunch of fucking idiots we were."

Jon laughed. He did remember those times. High school was a lot more complicated then he'd imagined, though it was his experience that things usually turned out that way.

"Is this about a girl?" Nick wanted to know.

Jon hesitated. "No, not a girl," he said quietly, and held his breath, waiting.

There was a reason he'd come here. They used to joke about sharing a brain, when they were younger, always knowing what the other was thinking. Trust Nick to get it.

"What's his name?" he said, rolling to his side to look up at Jon.

"Spencer," Jon whispered, forcing his eyes on the ceiling.

He'd known, before he decided to come up here, that telling Nick wouldn’t be like with Brendon. Nick didn't have any expectations.

"Is he...?" Nick trailed off.

"No. At least, I don't think so. But he's interested."

"Have you done anything?"

Jon took a breath and held it. "Kissed," he mumbled.

"You're really messed up about this," Nick said, sitting up.

Jon sighed. "Everything's so fucked up, I don't know what to do."

"But you like him.”

Jon frowned. “Yes,” he said with a little more force than he’d intended. He was pretty sure that part was obvious.

“And you’re worried what people are going to think.” Nick didn’t say it with any judgement, just put it out there as fact.

Jon let out the breath he’d been holding. “Lincoln’s not really the type of place where guys walk around holding hands.”

Brendon was one of a handful of openly gay students and Jon was nowhere near as comfortable in his own skin as Brendon.

“Is that what this guy wants you to do?” Nick was sitting with his legs over the side of the bed, looking up at Jon with an expectant look on his face.

“What? No,” Jon said, caught off guard.

“So figure out what he wants. And then figure out what you want. And then stop freaking out so loudly so I can get some sleep.” Nick said the last bit with a smile. “Though,” he said, eyes going serious again. “It kind of sounds like to me like you already know what you want.”

“That’s what scares the shit out of me,” Jon admitted, rolling to his side.

* * *

Jon wasn't sure that his weekend in Seattle had really fixed anything.

It rained the whole four hour drive back into Portland, the steady, heavy rain that made the road blur in front of him. By the time he pulled into his driveway, it was close to eleven and he had a headache that had spread all the way down his spine, tension in every bone in his body.

His mom was waiting up for him, sitting in the living room in her sweats, dozing against the pillows. He'd texted her to tell her he'd be in late and not to wait up. But he'd known better.

"Mom," Jon said softly, shaking her gently as he bent over her.

She blinked up at him. "Hi honey," she said, getting to her feet to kiss his cheek. "Lock up behind you, we can talk in the morning."

Jon had six missed calls from the weekend, having kept his phone on silent. Two from Tom, three from Brendon, one from Chelsea.

Jon didn't want to face any of it.

He trudged up to his bedroom, threw his things haphazardly on his bed and stripped out of his wet, grimy clothes.

The water was as hot as his skin could stand and he stayed under the spray until he'd all but fallen asleep, leaning against the wall, eyes closed.

Monday mornings had always brought a sense of dread with them, a knot in the pit of his stomach at having to go back to school and face teachers and early mornings and all the tedium of high school. This was a different kind of tension sitting heavy in his stomach, knowledge that tomorrow he'd see Spencer and have to try to find a way to get him to listen.

Jon still didn't know what he was going to say, or what he wanted.

Jon stepped carefully out of the shower, his limbs feeling more like liquid with exhaustion. He got into an old pair of sweats and climbed into bed, ignoring the homework he had neglected this weekend.

He reached for his cell phone.

"im back," he sent off a quick text to Brendon and Tom and turned off the light, rolling to his stomach. It took him less than five minutes to fall asleep.

* * *

The rain had stopped when Jon woke up, but the sky was an ominous grey that promised a storm before the day was out.

Jon lay in bed, trying to get the nerves to settle. His phone beeped at him and he reached for it to read the text waiting for him. It was from Brendon. "We missed you," was all it said. Jon had no idea who "we" was.

He deleted the text and rolled to his feet. The week stretched out in front of him, interminable.

* * *

As it turned out, Jon didn't see Spencer until Wednesday, and by that point he was irrationally annoyed, tired of looking around every corner for him. And worse, tired of thinking about him when he should have his mind on other things.

Jon finally ran into Spencer after fourth period as he was rushing down the stairs to the cafeteria to grab lunch quickly so he could try to use the forty minutes to catch up on the English reading he hadn't done over the weekend.

Jon rounded the corner and ran headlong into Spencer who was leaning against the wall outside the boys' bathroom, head bent over a book.

"Shit," Jon gasped before he could stop himself.

Spencer raised his head, a startled look on his face quickly changing to one of annoyance.

"Sorry," Jon mumbled and took off before Spencer could say anything.

Jon risked a glance backwards. Spencer was staring blankly in his direction.

Jon grabbed his food and a table in the corner of the cafeteria. "Homework," he'd texted Tom when he asked if they were eating together.

Jon shoveled his pizza into his mouth and tried to focus on Toni Morrison. But his mind kept wandering to Spencer. He'd looked good, a pair of impossibly small dark jeans and a t-shirt that looked like it had been brushed with glitter, his hair swept off his forehead.

"Can you believe they ran out of cookies?" Brendon said suddenly, loud, making Jon jerk his head up in surprise. Jon's lips formed a smile before he realized Brendon wasn't alone. It turned into a grimace as Ryan stood still, shoulders back, a look of irritation on his face.

Brendon straddled a chair backwards and plopped his books on the table. He gestured at Ryan, some weird wild movement of hands that apparently meant that Ryan should sit. Ryan did, though he didn't relax.

Jon bit his lip to keep from saying something that would make him seem like more of an asshole and pushed his tray in Brendon's direction. "Have mine," he mumbled and bent back down over his book.

Brendon didn't say anything but Jon could practically feel him bouncing in his seat.

Jon couldn't shake the feeling that Ryan was staring daggers at him. Frustrated, he looked up and said sharply, "what?"

Ryan's face didn't change. "I'm just trying to figure it out," Ryan said in a voice that made the room feel like it the temperature had dropped a few degrees.

"Figure what out?" Jon hissed impatiently.

"What he sees in you." Ryan's voice was deadly quiet. He stood up abruptly, reached out to touch Brendon on the shoulder and took off through the maze of tables.

Jon blew out a sigh. "Don't say anything," he warned Brendon.

Brendon was watching him, picking the chocolate chips out of his cookie. He shrugged.

Jon sat at for the rest of lunch, staring at the same sentence and finally gave it up as a lost cause.

part three