It's Important
Title:It's Important
Author: applebottom49
Rating: PG-13 for swearing and self-injury
Pairing: Rydon of course
POV:3rd; switches main focus
Summary: Ryan had never anticipated that Spencer would hit him, ever. Of course they had given each other a couple of bruises, but that was just them being guys. It hadn’t been real. But when Spencer punched Ryan right in the face, it was real as hell. “I told you to get away from me!” he screamed.
Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction; I'm not making nay money from it, etc. Also, this involves Spencer being very mean about homsosexuality in the beginning...it's not that bad, but a warning. JIC.
Beta: meiloslyther, capristar2213, lovejaredleto91
Author Notes: I'm bad at writing endings, so the very end of this can easily be considered "lame". please forgive me for it~
And btw- on SATD I messed up the header (I was typing really fast because I was late for school) and I screwed up my betas' names. D: So I'm apologizing for that right now!! I would fix it if I could.
“Spencer, I have to tell you something.” Ryan glanced at his best friend for a moment before looking down at his feet. They were standing outside on the street they both lived on, next to the stop sign where they always went to talk.
“Okay,” Spencer said. He looked around, clearly not understanding the complexity of the current situation. Oh well. He would soon enough.
“I think…” Ryan sighed, and he could see his breath in front of them in the unusually cold winter. He stuck his hands into his coat pockets. “Spencer, I think I’m gay,” he finally blurted out. He chanced a look at his friend.
Spencer had frozen, and not because of the snow that was starting to fall. “What?” he choked out.
“I don’t like girls,” Ryan said. He tried not to let his face fall into its usual unintentional scowl, thinking that it might give off some wrong intention. When he found that he couldn’t tell if he was scowling or not, he looked away again. A minute later, when Spencer hadn’t said anything, he looked at him again and his stomach dropped.
Spencer’s face was twisted into a disgusted expression similar to the look that rich girls gave them. When he saw Ryan looking at him, he stepped back a little bit. “No,” he said simply.
“I’m sorry,” Ryan said, wondering what he was supposed to do in this situation. He took a step nearer.
“Don’t,” said Spencer, taking another two steps away. “Don’t come near me.”
“Spencer-”
“No!” he said louder. “Ryan, you have two options right now. You can either tell me you’re kidding or you can get the hell away from me.”
Ryan’s eyes widened. “But…I don’t like either of those choices,” he said lamely. He hung his head again.
“Tell me you’re joking,” Spencer said, his voice pleading. “Tell me you’re just messing around, and I’ll believe you. And we can laugh and pretend this never happened.”
Looking back at Spencer yet again, Ryan saw the longing in his eyes- he was wordlessly begging Ryan to say he wasn’t serious. “But that isn’t true,” he breathed.
Spencer cringed as Ryan stepped closer. “Then get away,” he said, his eyes shutting momentarily.
“We’re best friends.”
“I can’t be best friends with one of you,” Spencer said. His cruel sneer returned to his face. “The last thing I need is more homo rumours.”
“We don’t even go to the same school!”
“When are we apart besides that!?” Spencer cried in a strangled voice.
Ryan couldn’t argue. “But… No one has to know except for you.”
“Yeah, right,” Spencer said aloofly. “Gay guys are always fucking each other all over the place. Do you really think I want to spend my time handing you tissues as you cry about the fact that your boyfriend didn’t compliment your new pink shirt? Ha!”
“That’s not what I’d be like,” Ryan said quietly.
“Oh yeah,” Spencer challenged. “I forgot how you are. So I guess you’d be more of the emo type that makes out with guys on Youtube and asks to borrow my sister’s jeans.”
“No!” Ryan said. “I wouldn’t be like that. And I thought you weren’t prejudiced about anything, Spencer. That’s what you tell everyone! Huh, I guess it’s okay for other people to be gay, as long as it’s not anyone you know.”
“Are you kidding, Ryan?” Spencer asked, ignoring what his friend had just said. “Are you straight?”
“No, Spencer,” Ryan said finally.
“Then get the hell away from me, fag.”
“What if I can’t, Spencer?” Ryan said goofily in the voice they used to use when telling stupid ghost stories. “What if I’m madly in love with you?” Ryan stepped close enough to Spencer that they were standing almost nose to nose. He put his arm around Spencer and batted his eyelashes.
Ryan had never anticipated that Spencer would hit him, ever. Of course they had given each other a couple of bruises, but that was just them being guys. It hadn’t been real. But when Spencer punched Ryan right in the face, it was real as hell. “I told you to get away from me!” he screamed.
Falling to the ground under the force of the punch, Ryan looked up at Spencer, rubbing the side of his face. “What, afraid you’ll catch the disease?” he asked quietly.
“Get up.”
“So you can hit me again? No, tha-”
Spencer kicked Ryan in the side, hard. “Get up!” he yelled.
Ryan obeyed this time. “Now go away,” Spencer commanded. “Go away, go far away, and God forbid I see you within twenty feet of me again until you’ve gotten some straight knocked into you.”
Ryan backed up. The physical pain was nothing compared to the emotional. “Spencer,” he breathed once more.
“No,” said Spencer firmly. “Just…Just stop it, Ryan.” It was then that the grief was apparent in his face and he turned away, shuffling off into the distance himself instead and leaving Ryan behind.
After watching him disappear, Ryan finally let himself cry. He screamed and punched the stop sign, wondering why the hell everything had to happen to him.
_
“Stop it!” Jon scooted a few inches away from Brendon, who simply laughed. “Brendon, you need to get out more.”
“What do you mean?” Brendon asked, pausing the racing game they were playing. Jon was his roommate and his best friend, and he really cared what his opinion was.
Jon sighed and dropped his controller into his lap (they were sitting cross-legged on the floor in front of the TV). “Brendon. You’re gay, and I support that. I really, totally do. But if you keep ‘practicing’ by hitting on me, we’re gonna have a problem.” His eye twitched, and Brendon laughed again. “It’s not funny!” he complained.
“Sorry,” apologized Brendon. “But how am I ever going to- get me a man- if I don’t know how to flirt? You keep saying there are plenty of fish in the sea, but how do you expect me to reel one in without the proper bait?”
Jon gave Brendon a confused look. “Wait- what? What is the ‘bait’ in this- is it you? Or me? Or what?” Jon sighed again and shook his head, his brown hair falling into his eyes as it always did. “Dude, never mind. I don’t care. Well, I do, but- you know what I mean. At any rate, Brendon, you don’t have to know how to flirt. You’re you. Just go out there and pick someone.”
“Why, Jon Walker, are you coming on to me?” Brendon fluttered his eyelashes. “I barely know you!”
“No, Brendon Urie, I’m not. And take this seriously, will you? If you keep yawning and putting your arm around me, I’m kicking you out.”
Brendon frowned. “Like my parents? I didn’t think you would do that.”
“I don’t want to, so don’t make me.” Jon started the game again.
Ten minutes later, however, the game paused again. “Brendon!” Jon yelled, shaking his friend’s head off his shoulder. He stood up and brushed himself off. “You know what?” he asked, pulling Brendon up with him, “I am kicking you out. Not for good- but for a good hour. Go outside,” he continued, pulling Brendon along by the arm and ignoring his complaints, “and take a nice walk. If you see someone pretty, go practice on him. Not me.” Jon opened the door and pushed Brendon outside, grinning. “Let this lovely fresh air clear your mind. Doctor’s orders.”
“Um, Doctor Jon?” Brendon asked, rubbing his arms in the immediate cold that greeted him. He looked around at the snow falling and made a pouty face. “I think I’m better already… Jon, seriously, don’t,” he whined, sticking his foot in the door that Jon was closing smugly. “Let me in! Please, it’s cold; I’m freezing out here.”
“Nope,” Jon said simply, kicking Brendon’s foot out of the way and shutting the door completely.
“I miss you,” Brendon called pathetically, but when no sympathy came, he grumbled to himself and trudged away down the road.
_
Ryan shook his fist, trying to shake the pain away, but to no avail. “Augh,” he cried, and let himself fall to the ground. He leaned his head against the signpost and closed his eyes.
“Are you okay?”
Ryan jumped, opening his eyes and taking in the stranger leaning over him. The snow had stopped and judging from the inches of fluffy powder on the ground, Ryan estimated that he must have fallen asleep for a good half-hour. “Yeah,” he said slowly, standing up and wiping the snow off his pants. “I’m fine.”
“Good,” said the stranger, and smiled. Ryan noting how large his lips were, looked the rest of the man over, and blushed when his eyes met the stranger’s puzzled ones. “I’m Brendon,” he continued.
“Ryan,” answered Ryan quietly, and cleared his throat, reaching his hand out to shake.
Brendon took it and said, “It’s nice to meet you, Ryan, but I have to ask- why are you bleeding?”
Ryan started and dropped his hand from Brendon’s, touching the side of the face and realizing with embarrassment that it was sticky. He looked at his hand and saw it was covered with blood. “Oh,” he said dully, “my friend hit me.”
“And he left you here, bleeding? What a pal.”
“Well. It’s my fault, really,” Ryan said sadly.
Brendon cocked his head in a somewhat comical fashion. “How so?”
“I said something I shouldn’t have.”
“Like what?”
Ryan paused, wondering if he should be telling this to a stranger. What if Brendon reacted like Spencer had? But Brendon didn’t seem the type…although Spencer hadn’t, either, and they had been best friends for about eleven years…
“You can tell me.”
Looking up, startled, Ryan saw Brendon smiling kindly, like he really cared. “I told him- I told him I was gay,” Ryan confessed, feeling as though he were blurting it out. He looked away, as he had done to Spencer.
Brendon blinked. “Oh,” he said concernedly. “That’s terrible. He hit you? What kind of friend is that.” He shook his head angrily. “That’s not what my friend was like at all. Jon even let me move in with him when my parents kicked me out.”
“Oh, you’re…?” Ryan didn’t finish and felt kind of stupid. Was that a rude question?
“Yeah,” Brendon said, waving his hand dismissively. “He was awesome. How close were you to the asshole that punched you?”
Looking down, Ryan felt tears well up again. “We were- we are- best friends.”
“I don’t think so,” said Brendon. He snorted. “That guy needs to get a life. You probably ought to start hanging out with your other friends from now on.”
“I don’t have any,” Ryan admitted. “I think that’s why he got mad.”
“Oh,” Brendon said. He scratched his head. “Well, I’ll be your friend.”
Smiling sadly, Ryan answered, “Thanks.”
“Do you live around here?” Brendon asked.
“Yeah, down the street,” Ryan said without thinking. Wait, shit. This guy was queer, too. What if he was thinking…?
“Cool,” Brendon said. “Can I use your phone? I need to call Jon. I have an idea.”
Ryan nodded, and led the way, knowing that he shouldn’t let a stranger into his house but, for some reason, loving the fact that he was going to.
But he still missed Spencer…
_
“Ryan?” Spencer called, screeching to a halt when he reached the sign. Shit. Where was he? “Ryan!” he yelled again.
Of course he should have known that Ryan wouldn’t just hang around here forever, but somehow Spencer had overlooked that and come running back. He really wished Ryan had waited- Spencer knew that he had been a dick, and he wanted like hell to apologize. He had hit Ryan. And kicked him. And made him feel like an outcast.
What kind of friend would do that?
That’s it, Spencer thought over. A friend wouldn’t have done it. But he and Ryan had been best friends for so long- no. That wouldn’t be right to say. This was a mistake too big to dismiss.
So what was he supposed to do? Spencer punched the stop sign, wondering for a minute why there was already a dent in it that his hand molded in to.
“I’m sorry!”
Without thinking, he screamed it, begging Ryan to hear it and feeling his stomach turn as logic told him he wouldn’t. It was too late, of course it was, and Ryan had moved on already; picked up his dignity and went home, not needing Spencer Smith any longer.
No, no, no! It was never supposed to be like this. Ryan and Spencer, friends forever. That’s how it should have been. But now, it wouldn’t be, because Spencer had screwed up. Ryan would hate him forever, no turning back.
“Fuck,” Spencer muttered, sitting on the ground and pulling out a pack of cigarettes that Ryan had bought for him. As he lit up, he looked around, maybe hoping to see Ryan in the distance, walking toward him, arms open, ready to forgive.
But of course, there was no one. Spencer was alone. For good.
“RYAN!” He screeched as loud as he could and, angry at himself and angry at the world at large, he brought his cigarette to his forearm, wincing at the pain of the burn but relishing it anyway.
_
Jon was playing Guitar Hero when he heard the door open.
“Your house seemed nice,” he heard Brendon say.
“It always does,” a strange voice replied. Jon frowned and, finishing the song, he turned off the game and headed for the door.
“Hey, Brendon,” he started, but stopped when he saw his roommate helping some teenager out of a coat. “…Who is this?” Jon asked, a red alert going off in his mind when Brendon winked at him.
“This,” said Brendon grandly, pulling the kid’s coat all the way off, “is Ryan. Ryan, this is Jon, my best friend. I told you about him- you remember, right?...Good. Anyway, Jonny, Ryan’s father is out of town and the friend whose house he was staying at turned out to be an ignorant dick, so-”
“He’s not,” the kid protested quietly.
Brendon sighed. “Ryan, he punched you.”
“I can understand.”
Jon shook his head, immediately fixing his hair by habit with a subconscious swipe of the hand. “Brendon,” he began.
On cue, Brendon pouted. “He needs a place to stay, Jon.”
“Where will he sleep?” Jon questioned, and gave Brendon a warning look when another wink was shot his way.
“He can have my room!” Brendon exclaimed. “I’ll take the couch. Or the floor. Or your-”
“No.”
“The couch, then.”
Jon sighed and shot a look at Brendon’s poor, innocent victim. The “Ryan” kid’s lip was quivering slightly, but in his case, it was probably unintentional. He was babyfaced and scrawny, but at that height Jon put him at about sixteen or seventeen years old. He looked back at Brendon, whose pout did not waver.
“Jonny, he can’t go back there…”
“Fine,” Jon said, squeezing his eyes shut as he got the bad-idea feeling, accompanied by a headache. “But stop using ridiculous nicknames.”
“‘Jonny’ isn’t ridiculous,” Brendon scoffed.
“It’s not as bad as usual,” Jon agreed, “but there’s no doubt you’ll come up with something stupid for the kid.”
Ryan coughed. “Ry-ry,” he said in that pathetic voice.
Brendon ignored it. “Yay, you can stay!” he cried emphatically, flinging his hands in the air. “Jon, you’re the best! Now come along, Ry-ry, I’ll show you around!” And with that, he grabbed Ryan’s arm and pulled him out of the entryway past Jon.
Jon looked after them kind of irritably, and rolled his eyes as he began picking up Ryan’s and Brendon’s wet scarves and coats off of the floor. He heard a muffled, “This is the living room, Ryan, oh look, Jon was playing Guitar Hero,” from Brendon, and looked through the hall into the living room. Brendon had handed Ryan a controller and was trying to show him how you were supposed to play. Jon was pretty sure that he already knew- what teenage boy these days couldn’t play?- but for some reason, he was being patient with Brendon and letting his fingers get moved around the controller. Jon chanced a glance at the kid’s face and started slightly at the look of adoration that adorned it. Wow, he thought, and his stomach turned slightly with a longing for that kind of instant chemistry.
Grinning slightly, Jon put the coats and scarves on the stand, but groaned when the song “Every Little Thing is Gonna Be Alright” suddenly popped into his head and danced with his headache. He cursed under his breath, but looking back at Brendon trying foolishly to demonstrate game play made him feel a little better.
_
“Spencer...? Where’s Ryan? I thought he was staying here?”
Spencer remained on his side, facing the wall on his bed, not even moving at his mother’s voice. “I don’t know where he is,” he said quietly. He wanted to cry, and it was apparent in his voice.
His mother moved to sit on the foot of his bed. “Did something happen to him?” she asked patiently.
Shaking his head and blinking vigorously, Spencer answered, “In a way. But now he’s gone.”
“Sweetie, should I be worried?”
“No. He’ll be fine.” Spencer tried to use a normal voice, but it came out dull.
His mother peered over him. “And what about you?” she asked wisely. “And what about you two together?”
“I don’t know, Mom!” Spencer cried shrilly. He sat up straight and looked his mum in the eyes. “I really just want to be alone,” he said crossly.
Sighing, Ginger stood up. “Alright,” she said carefully. She left his room and closed the door behind her, and Spencer suddenly felt extremely shitty.
What the hell did he do that for? Did he get some kind of sick fun by treating everyone he loved like shit?
He loved Ryan. So why had he turned him away when he was at his worst?
I was scared, he thoroughly to himself. Scared what everyone would think of me. Scared what everyone would think of him. And scared that maybe…Maybe he had feelings for me?
Was it vain to think that? Spencer didn’t know, but what he did know was that if he never got that thought out there, it would have eaten away at him forever. Still…Now, he was pretty sure that it had been a stupid idea. Ryan would have told him something like that. And now Spencer had no one.
He shut his eyes as a rush of sorrow flowed through him and attacked his brain. His head began to pound. He looked at the clock; three hours had flown by since he had arrived home. He looked at the floor; his cell phone lay smashed after Ryan had not answered the hundredth call. And finally, Spencer looked at his pillow, knowing what he wanted to do and believing it was what he had to.
Spencer reached under the white pillow and pulled out two objects: a small knife and a lighter. Rolling up his left sleeve, he ignored the already abundant scars and burns that adorned his arm. He flicked on the lighter, first, and held it to a clean spot on his forearm, leaving it there until a brown mark was left. He laughed bitterly at the shocking pain that did not go away, telling himself it was nothing compared to his best friend must have gone through.
_
“Are you sure this is okay?”
Brendon glanced over at Ryan, feeling slightly saddened by the uncomfortable look on his face. “Of course it is,” Brendon answered, flashing a trademark smile. “If Jon says we’re clear, then there’s nothing in the way.”
“I don’t want to intrude,” Ryan pushed.
Brendon dropped his oven mitts onto the counter. He and Ryan were in the midst of making spaghetti and garlic bread for Jon in return for pushing his hospitality. Although Brendon had lived with his friend for two years, he still thought of the house as Jon’s place, and felt compelled to ask Jon when he wanted to do anything. Luckily, he was a big softie on the inside, and Brendon usually got whatever he wanted with naught but a pout. “Ryan,” he said smoothly, “you’re not intruding. Jon likes you- did you see the way he grumbled a little? That means he’s trying to look like he can’t be easily swayed when in reality he’s just disappointed in himself for not minding anything I do.” When Ryan’s look told him that he was confused, Brendon continued, “Basically, Ry-ry, Jon’s the type of guy that likes everyone and is down for anything. You’re golden, here.”
“What’s this I hear about my flimsy willpower?” Jon grumbled as he entered the kitchen. He sniffed the air. “Ah, cooking is happening,” he commented delightedly, the fake rough look disappearing. “I approve,” Jon said. “Continue.” And he bustled back through the kitchen’s swinging door.
“Is he serious?” Ryan asked in a slightly worried voice.
Eyeing him momentarily, Brendon answered, “No.” He stifled a giggle at the sight of Ryan in the frilly apron that he’d been given, idly holding a spoon and hovering over the tomato sauce. “Stir,” Brendon added.
Ryan began stirring. “Well, thanks,” he said shyly. A minute later, he asked, “…Brendon?”
“Mm?” Brendon hummed his response, keeping his eye on the bread in the toaster oven.
“Do you think Spencer will ever like me again?”
Brendon, taking the advantage of not facing Ryan, rolled his eyes, saying, “Frankly, Ryan, I don’t think you even need him anymore. You’ve got us. But about that little snot? You said you’ve been best friends for years- in reality, I don’t think that’ll change much. In fact, he’s probably crying over you already.” The oven dinged. “Ah,” he sang. “The bread is done!”
_
Of course I still need Spencer, Ryan thought. He stirred the sauce subconsciously, jumping when Brendon waved an oven mitt in his face.
“The spaghetti should be done, Ry-ry,” Brendon said cheerfully. He put his head on Ryan’s shoulder from behind and added, “The sauce looks perfect. You’re awesome.”
Ryan fumbled to turn off the stove. “Thanks,” he murmured. Ryan had always felt awkward around people he had just met, but something about Brendon was overwhelming- overwhelming in a good way, he thought, but either way, his new friend was breathtaking. He absentmindedly ran a finger over the lace trim on the apron he had been given to wear and grinned at Brendon, who was humming as he took the garlic bread out of the toaster oven. (Brendon wasn’t wearing an apron…)
Still, though, Ryan missed Spencer more than anything. He wished his best friend was there so they could have fun with Brendon together. Ryan even found himself willing to get made fun of for his apron- then again, it might lead to a gay joke.
But that would be okay. Because Ryan would know that Spencer didn’t mean it.
Ryan felt a hand on his shoulder and looked up at Brendon’s chocolate brown eyes. “You’ll be okay,” Brendon said kindly. They held their gazes for a moment before Brendon began humming again and whisked off to strain the pasta.
Ten minutes later, three plates were equipped with spaghetti, garlic bread, and tomato sauce that actually did look pretty good (Ryan found himself beaming when Jon later complimented him on it). Brendon stuck a fork into the pasta on each plate, then grabbed two of them, balancing the third dish on his head. “Ry-ry, get the door,” he instructed. Ryan hurried to hold it open, then stopped to wait for Jon, who was leaning against the counter, arms crossed.
“Close it,” Jon said, and Ryan did so. Jon proceeded to walk closer to Ryan, stopping right in front of him and leaning down to look the teen in the eyes. “Now, Ryan,” Jon started, lowering his already gritty voice, “this is my house. And my house means my rules, which leads me to inform you that rule number one is, ‘Nobody hurts Brendon.’ In other words, you mean a lot to him already, and you haven’t even done anything except be pitiful. Basically, what I’m trying to say is that if Brendon tries something and you’re not into it, I better find out that you let him down easy. Got it?”
Ryan gulped. “Yes,” he squeaked.
Straightening, Jon smiled. “Cool,” he said, ruffling Ryan’s hair.
“Guys!” Brendon wailed from the living room. “Why am I all alone?...I don’t like it.”
“Come on,” Jon said cheerfully, and left the kitchen, calling, “We’re coming! Chill.”
Ryan waited a moment before leaving. Jon had said that he meant a lot to Brendon…Ryan bit his lip and smiled wistfully; happy, but wishing this could be something he shared with Spencer.
“Ry-ry!” Brendon called. “Come on! Project Runway is on.”
“But get rid of that stupid apron before you show up; I can’t take you seriously in that thing,” Jon complained. “Seriously, Brendon, why’d you make him wear it?” Ryan heard him say to Brendon.
“It was so cute,” Brendon protested to Jon through the door.
Ryan breathed in and pulled the apron over his head before leaving the kitchen, thoughts of Spencer still stuck in his mind.
_
“Wahoo, it’s snowy!” Brendon cried happily.
Jon rolled his eyes at his best friend and shared a grin with Ryan (or The Kid, as Jon would always think of him until his jailbait status was void). The three of them had decided to take a walk after dinner- more like after Project Runway ended, though, since Brendon refused to get his unusually huge butt off the couch until he found out who had gotten Auf’d by Heidi Klum.
At any rate, the snow had calmed down slightly- the storm that had started earlier was over, and it was just faintly coming down. Jon watched as Brendon stuck his tongue out, jumping when a wet snowflake reached his tongue. “Jah, I caught wuh,” he shouted, his tongue still stretched out. The Kid laughed too, and Jon found himself happy that Ryan was finally feeling comfortable with them.
The streetlights flicked on, and Brendon, who was directly underneath one of their beams, promptly began singing a song from an opera he had watched with Jon a few days ago.
Grinning, Jon pushed him out of the way and leapt into the spotlight himself. “Actually,” he said loudly, “I think you’d both rather be witness to my mad air-guitar skills.” He began his routine to Aerosmith’s Rag Doll, and Brendon began clapping enthusiastically. However, Brendon soon shoved Jon out of the way and started on his Gollum impressions.
Jon stood next to the Kid as Brendon started talking to an imaginary hobbit in a raspy voice. “Got any talents you’d like to share?” he murmured.
“No,” Ryan answered quietly, his eyes sparkling. “I could never match up to you two.”
“I hope you’re paying attention, you two!” Brendon cried in a put-out voice. He pouted, but ruined it by winking at the Kid.
“Let’s go,” Jon said, and Brendon skipped over to them, standing in the middle and linking arms with Ryan and Jon. “Tra-la,” Brendon sang, and Jon smiled.
The trio walked for a while, commenting on the various things they saw. The headed in no particular direction, and none of them had any desire to turn back.
After about 45 minutes of walking, though, Brendon halted. “What ho?” he asked his companions grandiosely. “A stranger! Friend or foe, what say you?”
“I think that’s Spencer,” Ryan said quietly.
Brendon froze. “Really,” he said curtly. “Let’s go kick his homophobic bum.”
Jon stopped as well. He couldn’t put his finger on it, but he knew something was wrong. Why would a kid wander around by himself outside in the blistering cold? The other kid, Steven or whatever his name was, probably wasn’t out looking for kids to beat up. “Brendon,” he warned, holding his friend’s arm. When Brendon gave him a pouty look, Jon said, “This kid doesn’t need a beat down. Look at his posture! He’s miserable.” (Stewart was, indeed, hunched over, his hands in his front pockets, which could be seen even from the distance between them.)
“He does look sad,” Ryan put in, and Jon felt Brendon immediately loosen a little.
“Do you want to talk to him?” Jon asked seriously.
There was a pause, and then: “Yeah.”
“We’re coming,” Brendon announced, and pulled the other two over to…What was his name?…Ryan’s friend.
Ryan’s friend looked up when he realized they were going over to him. “Ryan?” he asked in disbelief.
The kid’s face was girly and clean-shaven, like Ryan. This one, however, wasn’t wearing any kind of hat or scarf, and his face was red in the cold, his lips turning pale blue. He’s not wearing a coat, either, Jon realized, and his heart went out to Stanley immediately. This kid was messed up. Jon snuck a peek at Ryan, who also seemed to realize what a state he was in.
“Hey, Spencer,” Ryan said cautiously.
“Ryan…Ryan, I- Who are these people?” “Spencer” asked in a somewhat frightened tone.
“It’s okay. They’re friends,” Ryan said. And Jon realized what Spencer might have been worried about.
“Oh,” was the response. After a pause, and Jon hitting Brendon in the arm before he could speak, Spencer said, “Ryan, I’m so sorry. I was such an asshole before. I don’t know what I was thinking, I guess I just- whatever. It doesn’t matter. What does matter is that you’re my best friend, and I don’t give a fuck if you like girls or not. I’ve been beating myself up about it all day! I tried to find you again but you’d left and I didn’t know where you went and I tried to call you over and over for like hours and now my cell phone is smashed because you never answered and all I’ve wanted to say is that I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, Ryan.” Spencer finally stopped talking and bit his lip anxiously. He hung his head in misery.
Jon heard Ryan exhale slowly. “Spencer,” he started, but was interrupted.
“Ryan, I understand if you don’t want to forgive me. But you need to know how horrible I felt after I hurt you like that.” Spencer held out his left wrist, and Jon cringed at the sight of the scars and what looked like burns all over it.
“Oh, Spencer,” Ryan said in a shocked tone. “What the hell did you do to yourself?”
Spencer gulped audibly. “I…I wanted to hurt myself, too. Like you got hurt,” he said in a small voice.
“Good,” Brendon said testily.
“Brendon!” Jon said in horror. Ryan’s friend was in the middle of apologizing!
“No,” Brendon said angrily. “This monster beat up his best friend when he found out our little Ry-ry was gay. That’s just fucked up.”
“That’s just the reaction some people have,” Jon said, finding it hard to explain.
“That’s not what you did,” Brendon argued.
Ryan leaned over. “Brendon-”
“Yeah, but I’m made of awesome. That’s already been established,” Jon retorted.
“Huh!” Brendon sniffed. “That may be true, but you’re ruining it by sticking up for this little fucker.”
“If you like Ryan then why are you trying to alienate his best friend?” Jon pointed out irritably. “People make mistakes. He’s apologizing, and it’s obvious he’s sorry; he’s covered in scars!”
“He deserves them!”
“Brendon-” Ryan tried again.
“You don’t get to decide whether Ryan forgives this kid or not!” Jon said.
Brendon’s frown deepened. “I’m just pointing out that he doesn’t have to!”
“Brendon!” Ryan cried shrilly.
Brendon tensed immediately. “Yes, Ryan?” he asked smoothly.
“Stop fighting. Jon’s right,” Ryan said firmly. He turned to Spencer. “Spencer,” he breathed, “you have no idea how happy I am to hear that you still like me. If you really are sorry- then I forgive you. Completely.”
Instead of answering, Spencer rushed over to Ryan and hugged him tightly. Jon smiled, thinking that they were adorable. Brendon still looked sour, though, and Jon said quietly, “Relax, dude. He’s totally into you.”
“Do you really think so?” Brendon whispered back anxiously.
“Totally.”
At that moment, Spencer stepped back and looked at Brendon and Jon. “Ryan,” he asked, “Who are they?”
“Jon, and Brendon,” Ryan said, handing Spencer two of the three scarves Brendon had made him wear. “I met Brendon today- that’s why I wasn’t at the stop sign; I went to his and Jon’s house. Jon is Brendon’s best friend, like you and me.”
Spencer grinned briefly before the words registered. “Ryan,” he asked slowly, “I may be mistaken- but didn’t Brendon just say he was gay?”
“He is,” Ryan said curiously.
“And you just went to his house?” Spencer shrieked. “Ryan, are you crazy!? You could’ve gotten raped, and or killed! You know better than that!”
“I wasn’t going to do anything,” Brendon said indignantly. Jon rolled his eyes.
“Yeah, but you were a stranger. Stranger danger, Ryan,” Spencer reminded.
Ryan laughed and put his arm around Spencer. “I’m sorry,” he apologized. “I should have known. But Brendon really is a good guy.”
Spencer glanced at Brendon. Looking back at Ryan, he asked, “Wait- are you two, like- I don’t know. Do you…?”
“Like each other? They do,” Jon said, getting tired of staying silent. Brendon and Ryan looked at each other, exchanging shy but sappy looks.
“Oh”, Spencer said. He paused, then added, “That’s… That’s cool. I’m- I’m really happy for you, Rye.”
“Awwwwww!” Brendon gushed, and hurried over to hug Spencer. “You’re all right, aren’t you!”
Spencer gulped for air. “I think,” he squeaked.
Jon watched as Brendon released him, then moved to hold hands with Ryan. They gave each other that look again, and Jon was envious.
_
one year later
_
Brendon looked at Ryan, whose arm was around him. “I love you,” he said.
They were standing in front of the stop sign where Ryan had first come out to Spencer. This wasn’t just Ryan and Spencer’s spot now- Jon and Brendon were allowed, too. The four of them were all friends, and Brendon and Ryan were more.
Much more.
“I love you, too,” Ryan said quietly. It was snowy and freezing, but that wasn’t why he was holding on to Brendon so tightly.
“We’ve come a long way.” Brendon didn’t mean the walk from his house to this spot, but he knew he didn’t have to explain.
“We all have.”
Brendon loved Ryan’s thoughtful expression. “What are you thinking about?” he asked because of it.
Ryan looked back at him. “I don’t know. Everything.” He cleared his throat.
Brendon hummed. “Look at us still talking,” he said significantly.
A smile shone on Ryan’s face. “We can fix that,” he said.
As Brendon felt Ryan’s lips warm his, he smiled into the kiss. Because he knew that every little thing was alright.
Author: applebottom49
Rating: PG-13 for swearing and self-injury
Pairing: Rydon of course
POV:3rd; switches main focus
Summary: Ryan had never anticipated that Spencer would hit him, ever. Of course they had given each other a couple of bruises, but that was just them being guys. It hadn’t been real. But when Spencer punched Ryan right in the face, it was real as hell. “I told you to get away from me!” he screamed.
Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction; I'm not making nay money from it, etc. Also, this involves Spencer being very mean about homsosexuality in the beginning...it's not that bad, but a warning. JIC.
Beta: meiloslyther, capristar2213, lovejaredleto91
Author Notes: I'm bad at writing endings, so the very end of this can easily be considered "lame". please forgive me for it~
And btw- on SATD I messed up the header (I was typing really fast because I was late for school) and I screwed up my betas' names. D: So I'm apologizing for that right now!! I would fix it if I could.
“Spencer, I have to tell you something.” Ryan glanced at his best friend for a moment before looking down at his feet. They were standing outside on the street they both lived on, next to the stop sign where they always went to talk.
“Okay,” Spencer said. He looked around, clearly not understanding the complexity of the current situation. Oh well. He would soon enough.
“I think…” Ryan sighed, and he could see his breath in front of them in the unusually cold winter. He stuck his hands into his coat pockets. “Spencer, I think I’m gay,” he finally blurted out. He chanced a look at his friend.
Spencer had frozen, and not because of the snow that was starting to fall. “What?” he choked out.
“I don’t like girls,” Ryan said. He tried not to let his face fall into its usual unintentional scowl, thinking that it might give off some wrong intention. When he found that he couldn’t tell if he was scowling or not, he looked away again. A minute later, when Spencer hadn’t said anything, he looked at him again and his stomach dropped.
Spencer’s face was twisted into a disgusted expression similar to the look that rich girls gave them. When he saw Ryan looking at him, he stepped back a little bit. “No,” he said simply.
“I’m sorry,” Ryan said, wondering what he was supposed to do in this situation. He took a step nearer.
“Don’t,” said Spencer, taking another two steps away. “Don’t come near me.”
“Spencer-”
“No!” he said louder. “Ryan, you have two options right now. You can either tell me you’re kidding or you can get the hell away from me.”
Ryan’s eyes widened. “But…I don’t like either of those choices,” he said lamely. He hung his head again.
“Tell me you’re joking,” Spencer said, his voice pleading. “Tell me you’re just messing around, and I’ll believe you. And we can laugh and pretend this never happened.”
Looking back at Spencer yet again, Ryan saw the longing in his eyes- he was wordlessly begging Ryan to say he wasn’t serious. “But that isn’t true,” he breathed.
Spencer cringed as Ryan stepped closer. “Then get away,” he said, his eyes shutting momentarily.
“We’re best friends.”
“I can’t be best friends with one of you,” Spencer said. His cruel sneer returned to his face. “The last thing I need is more homo rumours.”
“We don’t even go to the same school!”
“When are we apart besides that!?” Spencer cried in a strangled voice.
Ryan couldn’t argue. “But… No one has to know except for you.”
“Yeah, right,” Spencer said aloofly. “Gay guys are always fucking each other all over the place. Do you really think I want to spend my time handing you tissues as you cry about the fact that your boyfriend didn’t compliment your new pink shirt? Ha!”
“That’s not what I’d be like,” Ryan said quietly.
“Oh yeah,” Spencer challenged. “I forgot how you are. So I guess you’d be more of the emo type that makes out with guys on Youtube and asks to borrow my sister’s jeans.”
“No!” Ryan said. “I wouldn’t be like that. And I thought you weren’t prejudiced about anything, Spencer. That’s what you tell everyone! Huh, I guess it’s okay for other people to be gay, as long as it’s not anyone you know.”
“Are you kidding, Ryan?” Spencer asked, ignoring what his friend had just said. “Are you straight?”
“No, Spencer,” Ryan said finally.
“Then get the hell away from me, fag.”
“What if I can’t, Spencer?” Ryan said goofily in the voice they used to use when telling stupid ghost stories. “What if I’m madly in love with you?” Ryan stepped close enough to Spencer that they were standing almost nose to nose. He put his arm around Spencer and batted his eyelashes.
Ryan had never anticipated that Spencer would hit him, ever. Of course they had given each other a couple of bruises, but that was just them being guys. It hadn’t been real. But when Spencer punched Ryan right in the face, it was real as hell. “I told you to get away from me!” he screamed.
Falling to the ground under the force of the punch, Ryan looked up at Spencer, rubbing the side of his face. “What, afraid you’ll catch the disease?” he asked quietly.
“Get up.”
“So you can hit me again? No, tha-”
Spencer kicked Ryan in the side, hard. “Get up!” he yelled.
Ryan obeyed this time. “Now go away,” Spencer commanded. “Go away, go far away, and God forbid I see you within twenty feet of me again until you’ve gotten some straight knocked into you.”
Ryan backed up. The physical pain was nothing compared to the emotional. “Spencer,” he breathed once more.
“No,” said Spencer firmly. “Just…Just stop it, Ryan.” It was then that the grief was apparent in his face and he turned away, shuffling off into the distance himself instead and leaving Ryan behind.
After watching him disappear, Ryan finally let himself cry. He screamed and punched the stop sign, wondering why the hell everything had to happen to him.
_
“Stop it!” Jon scooted a few inches away from Brendon, who simply laughed. “Brendon, you need to get out more.”
“What do you mean?” Brendon asked, pausing the racing game they were playing. Jon was his roommate and his best friend, and he really cared what his opinion was.
Jon sighed and dropped his controller into his lap (they were sitting cross-legged on the floor in front of the TV). “Brendon. You’re gay, and I support that. I really, totally do. But if you keep ‘practicing’ by hitting on me, we’re gonna have a problem.” His eye twitched, and Brendon laughed again. “It’s not funny!” he complained.
“Sorry,” apologized Brendon. “But how am I ever going to- get me a man- if I don’t know how to flirt? You keep saying there are plenty of fish in the sea, but how do you expect me to reel one in without the proper bait?”
Jon gave Brendon a confused look. “Wait- what? What is the ‘bait’ in this- is it you? Or me? Or what?” Jon sighed again and shook his head, his brown hair falling into his eyes as it always did. “Dude, never mind. I don’t care. Well, I do, but- you know what I mean. At any rate, Brendon, you don’t have to know how to flirt. You’re you. Just go out there and pick someone.”
“Why, Jon Walker, are you coming on to me?” Brendon fluttered his eyelashes. “I barely know you!”
“No, Brendon Urie, I’m not. And take this seriously, will you? If you keep yawning and putting your arm around me, I’m kicking you out.”
Brendon frowned. “Like my parents? I didn’t think you would do that.”
“I don’t want to, so don’t make me.” Jon started the game again.
Ten minutes later, however, the game paused again. “Brendon!” Jon yelled, shaking his friend’s head off his shoulder. He stood up and brushed himself off. “You know what?” he asked, pulling Brendon up with him, “I am kicking you out. Not for good- but for a good hour. Go outside,” he continued, pulling Brendon along by the arm and ignoring his complaints, “and take a nice walk. If you see someone pretty, go practice on him. Not me.” Jon opened the door and pushed Brendon outside, grinning. “Let this lovely fresh air clear your mind. Doctor’s orders.”
“Um, Doctor Jon?” Brendon asked, rubbing his arms in the immediate cold that greeted him. He looked around at the snow falling and made a pouty face. “I think I’m better already… Jon, seriously, don’t,” he whined, sticking his foot in the door that Jon was closing smugly. “Let me in! Please, it’s cold; I’m freezing out here.”
“Nope,” Jon said simply, kicking Brendon’s foot out of the way and shutting the door completely.
“I miss you,” Brendon called pathetically, but when no sympathy came, he grumbled to himself and trudged away down the road.
_
Ryan shook his fist, trying to shake the pain away, but to no avail. “Augh,” he cried, and let himself fall to the ground. He leaned his head against the signpost and closed his eyes.
“Are you okay?”
Ryan jumped, opening his eyes and taking in the stranger leaning over him. The snow had stopped and judging from the inches of fluffy powder on the ground, Ryan estimated that he must have fallen asleep for a good half-hour. “Yeah,” he said slowly, standing up and wiping the snow off his pants. “I’m fine.”
“Good,” said the stranger, and smiled. Ryan noting how large his lips were, looked the rest of the man over, and blushed when his eyes met the stranger’s puzzled ones. “I’m Brendon,” he continued.
“Ryan,” answered Ryan quietly, and cleared his throat, reaching his hand out to shake.
Brendon took it and said, “It’s nice to meet you, Ryan, but I have to ask- why are you bleeding?”
Ryan started and dropped his hand from Brendon’s, touching the side of the face and realizing with embarrassment that it was sticky. He looked at his hand and saw it was covered with blood. “Oh,” he said dully, “my friend hit me.”
“And he left you here, bleeding? What a pal.”
“Well. It’s my fault, really,” Ryan said sadly.
Brendon cocked his head in a somewhat comical fashion. “How so?”
“I said something I shouldn’t have.”
“Like what?”
Ryan paused, wondering if he should be telling this to a stranger. What if Brendon reacted like Spencer had? But Brendon didn’t seem the type…although Spencer hadn’t, either, and they had been best friends for about eleven years…
“You can tell me.”
Looking up, startled, Ryan saw Brendon smiling kindly, like he really cared. “I told him- I told him I was gay,” Ryan confessed, feeling as though he were blurting it out. He looked away, as he had done to Spencer.
Brendon blinked. “Oh,” he said concernedly. “That’s terrible. He hit you? What kind of friend is that.” He shook his head angrily. “That’s not what my friend was like at all. Jon even let me move in with him when my parents kicked me out.”
“Oh, you’re…?” Ryan didn’t finish and felt kind of stupid. Was that a rude question?
“Yeah,” Brendon said, waving his hand dismissively. “He was awesome. How close were you to the asshole that punched you?”
Looking down, Ryan felt tears well up again. “We were- we are- best friends.”
“I don’t think so,” said Brendon. He snorted. “That guy needs to get a life. You probably ought to start hanging out with your other friends from now on.”
“I don’t have any,” Ryan admitted. “I think that’s why he got mad.”
“Oh,” Brendon said. He scratched his head. “Well, I’ll be your friend.”
Smiling sadly, Ryan answered, “Thanks.”
“Do you live around here?” Brendon asked.
“Yeah, down the street,” Ryan said without thinking. Wait, shit. This guy was queer, too. What if he was thinking…?
“Cool,” Brendon said. “Can I use your phone? I need to call Jon. I have an idea.”
Ryan nodded, and led the way, knowing that he shouldn’t let a stranger into his house but, for some reason, loving the fact that he was going to.
But he still missed Spencer…
_
“Ryan?” Spencer called, screeching to a halt when he reached the sign. Shit. Where was he? “Ryan!” he yelled again.
Of course he should have known that Ryan wouldn’t just hang around here forever, but somehow Spencer had overlooked that and come running back. He really wished Ryan had waited- Spencer knew that he had been a dick, and he wanted like hell to apologize. He had hit Ryan. And kicked him. And made him feel like an outcast.
What kind of friend would do that?
That’s it, Spencer thought over. A friend wouldn’t have done it. But he and Ryan had been best friends for so long- no. That wouldn’t be right to say. This was a mistake too big to dismiss.
So what was he supposed to do? Spencer punched the stop sign, wondering for a minute why there was already a dent in it that his hand molded in to.
“I’m sorry!”
Without thinking, he screamed it, begging Ryan to hear it and feeling his stomach turn as logic told him he wouldn’t. It was too late, of course it was, and Ryan had moved on already; picked up his dignity and went home, not needing Spencer Smith any longer.
No, no, no! It was never supposed to be like this. Ryan and Spencer, friends forever. That’s how it should have been. But now, it wouldn’t be, because Spencer had screwed up. Ryan would hate him forever, no turning back.
“Fuck,” Spencer muttered, sitting on the ground and pulling out a pack of cigarettes that Ryan had bought for him. As he lit up, he looked around, maybe hoping to see Ryan in the distance, walking toward him, arms open, ready to forgive.
But of course, there was no one. Spencer was alone. For good.
“RYAN!” He screeched as loud as he could and, angry at himself and angry at the world at large, he brought his cigarette to his forearm, wincing at the pain of the burn but relishing it anyway.
_
Jon was playing Guitar Hero when he heard the door open.
“Your house seemed nice,” he heard Brendon say.
“It always does,” a strange voice replied. Jon frowned and, finishing the song, he turned off the game and headed for the door.
“Hey, Brendon,” he started, but stopped when he saw his roommate helping some teenager out of a coat. “…Who is this?” Jon asked, a red alert going off in his mind when Brendon winked at him.
“This,” said Brendon grandly, pulling the kid’s coat all the way off, “is Ryan. Ryan, this is Jon, my best friend. I told you about him- you remember, right?...Good. Anyway, Jonny, Ryan’s father is out of town and the friend whose house he was staying at turned out to be an ignorant dick, so-”
“He’s not,” the kid protested quietly.
Brendon sighed. “Ryan, he punched you.”
“I can understand.”
Jon shook his head, immediately fixing his hair by habit with a subconscious swipe of the hand. “Brendon,” he began.
On cue, Brendon pouted. “He needs a place to stay, Jon.”
“Where will he sleep?” Jon questioned, and gave Brendon a warning look when another wink was shot his way.
“He can have my room!” Brendon exclaimed. “I’ll take the couch. Or the floor. Or your-”
“No.”
“The couch, then.”
Jon sighed and shot a look at Brendon’s poor, innocent victim. The “Ryan” kid’s lip was quivering slightly, but in his case, it was probably unintentional. He was babyfaced and scrawny, but at that height Jon put him at about sixteen or seventeen years old. He looked back at Brendon, whose pout did not waver.
“Jonny, he can’t go back there…”
“Fine,” Jon said, squeezing his eyes shut as he got the bad-idea feeling, accompanied by a headache. “But stop using ridiculous nicknames.”
“‘Jonny’ isn’t ridiculous,” Brendon scoffed.
“It’s not as bad as usual,” Jon agreed, “but there’s no doubt you’ll come up with something stupid for the kid.”
Ryan coughed. “Ry-ry,” he said in that pathetic voice.
Brendon ignored it. “Yay, you can stay!” he cried emphatically, flinging his hands in the air. “Jon, you’re the best! Now come along, Ry-ry, I’ll show you around!” And with that, he grabbed Ryan’s arm and pulled him out of the entryway past Jon.
Jon looked after them kind of irritably, and rolled his eyes as he began picking up Ryan’s and Brendon’s wet scarves and coats off of the floor. He heard a muffled, “This is the living room, Ryan, oh look, Jon was playing Guitar Hero,” from Brendon, and looked through the hall into the living room. Brendon had handed Ryan a controller and was trying to show him how you were supposed to play. Jon was pretty sure that he already knew- what teenage boy these days couldn’t play?- but for some reason, he was being patient with Brendon and letting his fingers get moved around the controller. Jon chanced a glance at the kid’s face and started slightly at the look of adoration that adorned it. Wow, he thought, and his stomach turned slightly with a longing for that kind of instant chemistry.
Grinning slightly, Jon put the coats and scarves on the stand, but groaned when the song “Every Little Thing is Gonna Be Alright” suddenly popped into his head and danced with his headache. He cursed under his breath, but looking back at Brendon trying foolishly to demonstrate game play made him feel a little better.
_
“Spencer...? Where’s Ryan? I thought he was staying here?”
Spencer remained on his side, facing the wall on his bed, not even moving at his mother’s voice. “I don’t know where he is,” he said quietly. He wanted to cry, and it was apparent in his voice.
His mother moved to sit on the foot of his bed. “Did something happen to him?” she asked patiently.
Shaking his head and blinking vigorously, Spencer answered, “In a way. But now he’s gone.”
“Sweetie, should I be worried?”
“No. He’ll be fine.” Spencer tried to use a normal voice, but it came out dull.
His mother peered over him. “And what about you?” she asked wisely. “And what about you two together?”
“I don’t know, Mom!” Spencer cried shrilly. He sat up straight and looked his mum in the eyes. “I really just want to be alone,” he said crossly.
Sighing, Ginger stood up. “Alright,” she said carefully. She left his room and closed the door behind her, and Spencer suddenly felt extremely shitty.
What the hell did he do that for? Did he get some kind of sick fun by treating everyone he loved like shit?
He loved Ryan. So why had he turned him away when he was at his worst?
I was scared, he thoroughly to himself. Scared what everyone would think of me. Scared what everyone would think of him. And scared that maybe…Maybe he had feelings for me?
Was it vain to think that? Spencer didn’t know, but what he did know was that if he never got that thought out there, it would have eaten away at him forever. Still…Now, he was pretty sure that it had been a stupid idea. Ryan would have told him something like that. And now Spencer had no one.
He shut his eyes as a rush of sorrow flowed through him and attacked his brain. His head began to pound. He looked at the clock; three hours had flown by since he had arrived home. He looked at the floor; his cell phone lay smashed after Ryan had not answered the hundredth call. And finally, Spencer looked at his pillow, knowing what he wanted to do and believing it was what he had to.
Spencer reached under the white pillow and pulled out two objects: a small knife and a lighter. Rolling up his left sleeve, he ignored the already abundant scars and burns that adorned his arm. He flicked on the lighter, first, and held it to a clean spot on his forearm, leaving it there until a brown mark was left. He laughed bitterly at the shocking pain that did not go away, telling himself it was nothing compared to his best friend must have gone through.
_
“Are you sure this is okay?”
Brendon glanced over at Ryan, feeling slightly saddened by the uncomfortable look on his face. “Of course it is,” Brendon answered, flashing a trademark smile. “If Jon says we’re clear, then there’s nothing in the way.”
“I don’t want to intrude,” Ryan pushed.
Brendon dropped his oven mitts onto the counter. He and Ryan were in the midst of making spaghetti and garlic bread for Jon in return for pushing his hospitality. Although Brendon had lived with his friend for two years, he still thought of the house as Jon’s place, and felt compelled to ask Jon when he wanted to do anything. Luckily, he was a big softie on the inside, and Brendon usually got whatever he wanted with naught but a pout. “Ryan,” he said smoothly, “you’re not intruding. Jon likes you- did you see the way he grumbled a little? That means he’s trying to look like he can’t be easily swayed when in reality he’s just disappointed in himself for not minding anything I do.” When Ryan’s look told him that he was confused, Brendon continued, “Basically, Ry-ry, Jon’s the type of guy that likes everyone and is down for anything. You’re golden, here.”
“What’s this I hear about my flimsy willpower?” Jon grumbled as he entered the kitchen. He sniffed the air. “Ah, cooking is happening,” he commented delightedly, the fake rough look disappearing. “I approve,” Jon said. “Continue.” And he bustled back through the kitchen’s swinging door.
“Is he serious?” Ryan asked in a slightly worried voice.
Eyeing him momentarily, Brendon answered, “No.” He stifled a giggle at the sight of Ryan in the frilly apron that he’d been given, idly holding a spoon and hovering over the tomato sauce. “Stir,” Brendon added.
Ryan began stirring. “Well, thanks,” he said shyly. A minute later, he asked, “…Brendon?”
“Mm?” Brendon hummed his response, keeping his eye on the bread in the toaster oven.
“Do you think Spencer will ever like me again?”
Brendon, taking the advantage of not facing Ryan, rolled his eyes, saying, “Frankly, Ryan, I don’t think you even need him anymore. You’ve got us. But about that little snot? You said you’ve been best friends for years- in reality, I don’t think that’ll change much. In fact, he’s probably crying over you already.” The oven dinged. “Ah,” he sang. “The bread is done!”
_
Of course I still need Spencer, Ryan thought. He stirred the sauce subconsciously, jumping when Brendon waved an oven mitt in his face.
“The spaghetti should be done, Ry-ry,” Brendon said cheerfully. He put his head on Ryan’s shoulder from behind and added, “The sauce looks perfect. You’re awesome.”
Ryan fumbled to turn off the stove. “Thanks,” he murmured. Ryan had always felt awkward around people he had just met, but something about Brendon was overwhelming- overwhelming in a good way, he thought, but either way, his new friend was breathtaking. He absentmindedly ran a finger over the lace trim on the apron he had been given to wear and grinned at Brendon, who was humming as he took the garlic bread out of the toaster oven. (Brendon wasn’t wearing an apron…)
Still, though, Ryan missed Spencer more than anything. He wished his best friend was there so they could have fun with Brendon together. Ryan even found himself willing to get made fun of for his apron- then again, it might lead to a gay joke.
But that would be okay. Because Ryan would know that Spencer didn’t mean it.
Ryan felt a hand on his shoulder and looked up at Brendon’s chocolate brown eyes. “You’ll be okay,” Brendon said kindly. They held their gazes for a moment before Brendon began humming again and whisked off to strain the pasta.
Ten minutes later, three plates were equipped with spaghetti, garlic bread, and tomato sauce that actually did look pretty good (Ryan found himself beaming when Jon later complimented him on it). Brendon stuck a fork into the pasta on each plate, then grabbed two of them, balancing the third dish on his head. “Ry-ry, get the door,” he instructed. Ryan hurried to hold it open, then stopped to wait for Jon, who was leaning against the counter, arms crossed.
“Close it,” Jon said, and Ryan did so. Jon proceeded to walk closer to Ryan, stopping right in front of him and leaning down to look the teen in the eyes. “Now, Ryan,” Jon started, lowering his already gritty voice, “this is my house. And my house means my rules, which leads me to inform you that rule number one is, ‘Nobody hurts Brendon.’ In other words, you mean a lot to him already, and you haven’t even done anything except be pitiful. Basically, what I’m trying to say is that if Brendon tries something and you’re not into it, I better find out that you let him down easy. Got it?”
Ryan gulped. “Yes,” he squeaked.
Straightening, Jon smiled. “Cool,” he said, ruffling Ryan’s hair.
“Guys!” Brendon wailed from the living room. “Why am I all alone?...I don’t like it.”
“Come on,” Jon said cheerfully, and left the kitchen, calling, “We’re coming! Chill.”
Ryan waited a moment before leaving. Jon had said that he meant a lot to Brendon…Ryan bit his lip and smiled wistfully; happy, but wishing this could be something he shared with Spencer.
“Ry-ry!” Brendon called. “Come on! Project Runway is on.”
“But get rid of that stupid apron before you show up; I can’t take you seriously in that thing,” Jon complained. “Seriously, Brendon, why’d you make him wear it?” Ryan heard him say to Brendon.
“It was so cute,” Brendon protested to Jon through the door.
Ryan breathed in and pulled the apron over his head before leaving the kitchen, thoughts of Spencer still stuck in his mind.
_
“Wahoo, it’s snowy!” Brendon cried happily.
Jon rolled his eyes at his best friend and shared a grin with Ryan (or The Kid, as Jon would always think of him until his jailbait status was void). The three of them had decided to take a walk after dinner- more like after Project Runway ended, though, since Brendon refused to get his unusually huge butt off the couch until he found out who had gotten Auf’d by Heidi Klum.
At any rate, the snow had calmed down slightly- the storm that had started earlier was over, and it was just faintly coming down. Jon watched as Brendon stuck his tongue out, jumping when a wet snowflake reached his tongue. “Jah, I caught wuh,” he shouted, his tongue still stretched out. The Kid laughed too, and Jon found himself happy that Ryan was finally feeling comfortable with them.
The streetlights flicked on, and Brendon, who was directly underneath one of their beams, promptly began singing a song from an opera he had watched with Jon a few days ago.
Grinning, Jon pushed him out of the way and leapt into the spotlight himself. “Actually,” he said loudly, “I think you’d both rather be witness to my mad air-guitar skills.” He began his routine to Aerosmith’s Rag Doll, and Brendon began clapping enthusiastically. However, Brendon soon shoved Jon out of the way and started on his Gollum impressions.
Jon stood next to the Kid as Brendon started talking to an imaginary hobbit in a raspy voice. “Got any talents you’d like to share?” he murmured.
“No,” Ryan answered quietly, his eyes sparkling. “I could never match up to you two.”
“I hope you’re paying attention, you two!” Brendon cried in a put-out voice. He pouted, but ruined it by winking at the Kid.
“Let’s go,” Jon said, and Brendon skipped over to them, standing in the middle and linking arms with Ryan and Jon. “Tra-la,” Brendon sang, and Jon smiled.
The trio walked for a while, commenting on the various things they saw. The headed in no particular direction, and none of them had any desire to turn back.
After about 45 minutes of walking, though, Brendon halted. “What ho?” he asked his companions grandiosely. “A stranger! Friend or foe, what say you?”
“I think that’s Spencer,” Ryan said quietly.
Brendon froze. “Really,” he said curtly. “Let’s go kick his homophobic bum.”
Jon stopped as well. He couldn’t put his finger on it, but he knew something was wrong. Why would a kid wander around by himself outside in the blistering cold? The other kid, Steven or whatever his name was, probably wasn’t out looking for kids to beat up. “Brendon,” he warned, holding his friend’s arm. When Brendon gave him a pouty look, Jon said, “This kid doesn’t need a beat down. Look at his posture! He’s miserable.” (Stewart was, indeed, hunched over, his hands in his front pockets, which could be seen even from the distance between them.)
“He does look sad,” Ryan put in, and Jon felt Brendon immediately loosen a little.
“Do you want to talk to him?” Jon asked seriously.
There was a pause, and then: “Yeah.”
“We’re coming,” Brendon announced, and pulled the other two over to…What was his name?…Ryan’s friend.
Ryan’s friend looked up when he realized they were going over to him. “Ryan?” he asked in disbelief.
The kid’s face was girly and clean-shaven, like Ryan. This one, however, wasn’t wearing any kind of hat or scarf, and his face was red in the cold, his lips turning pale blue. He’s not wearing a coat, either, Jon realized, and his heart went out to Stanley immediately. This kid was messed up. Jon snuck a peek at Ryan, who also seemed to realize what a state he was in.
“Hey, Spencer,” Ryan said cautiously.
“Ryan…Ryan, I- Who are these people?” “Spencer” asked in a somewhat frightened tone.
“It’s okay. They’re friends,” Ryan said. And Jon realized what Spencer might have been worried about.
“Oh,” was the response. After a pause, and Jon hitting Brendon in the arm before he could speak, Spencer said, “Ryan, I’m so sorry. I was such an asshole before. I don’t know what I was thinking, I guess I just- whatever. It doesn’t matter. What does matter is that you’re my best friend, and I don’t give a fuck if you like girls or not. I’ve been beating myself up about it all day! I tried to find you again but you’d left and I didn’t know where you went and I tried to call you over and over for like hours and now my cell phone is smashed because you never answered and all I’ve wanted to say is that I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, Ryan.” Spencer finally stopped talking and bit his lip anxiously. He hung his head in misery.
Jon heard Ryan exhale slowly. “Spencer,” he started, but was interrupted.
“Ryan, I understand if you don’t want to forgive me. But you need to know how horrible I felt after I hurt you like that.” Spencer held out his left wrist, and Jon cringed at the sight of the scars and what looked like burns all over it.
“Oh, Spencer,” Ryan said in a shocked tone. “What the hell did you do to yourself?”
Spencer gulped audibly. “I…I wanted to hurt myself, too. Like you got hurt,” he said in a small voice.
“Good,” Brendon said testily.
“Brendon!” Jon said in horror. Ryan’s friend was in the middle of apologizing!
“No,” Brendon said angrily. “This monster beat up his best friend when he found out our little Ry-ry was gay. That’s just fucked up.”
“That’s just the reaction some people have,” Jon said, finding it hard to explain.
“That’s not what you did,” Brendon argued.
Ryan leaned over. “Brendon-”
“Yeah, but I’m made of awesome. That’s already been established,” Jon retorted.
“Huh!” Brendon sniffed. “That may be true, but you’re ruining it by sticking up for this little fucker.”
“If you like Ryan then why are you trying to alienate his best friend?” Jon pointed out irritably. “People make mistakes. He’s apologizing, and it’s obvious he’s sorry; he’s covered in scars!”
“He deserves them!”
“Brendon-” Ryan tried again.
“You don’t get to decide whether Ryan forgives this kid or not!” Jon said.
Brendon’s frown deepened. “I’m just pointing out that he doesn’t have to!”
“Brendon!” Ryan cried shrilly.
Brendon tensed immediately. “Yes, Ryan?” he asked smoothly.
“Stop fighting. Jon’s right,” Ryan said firmly. He turned to Spencer. “Spencer,” he breathed, “you have no idea how happy I am to hear that you still like me. If you really are sorry- then I forgive you. Completely.”
Instead of answering, Spencer rushed over to Ryan and hugged him tightly. Jon smiled, thinking that they were adorable. Brendon still looked sour, though, and Jon said quietly, “Relax, dude. He’s totally into you.”
“Do you really think so?” Brendon whispered back anxiously.
“Totally.”
At that moment, Spencer stepped back and looked at Brendon and Jon. “Ryan,” he asked, “Who are they?”
“Jon, and Brendon,” Ryan said, handing Spencer two of the three scarves Brendon had made him wear. “I met Brendon today- that’s why I wasn’t at the stop sign; I went to his and Jon’s house. Jon is Brendon’s best friend, like you and me.”
Spencer grinned briefly before the words registered. “Ryan,” he asked slowly, “I may be mistaken- but didn’t Brendon just say he was gay?”
“He is,” Ryan said curiously.
“And you just went to his house?” Spencer shrieked. “Ryan, are you crazy!? You could’ve gotten raped, and or killed! You know better than that!”
“I wasn’t going to do anything,” Brendon said indignantly. Jon rolled his eyes.
“Yeah, but you were a stranger. Stranger danger, Ryan,” Spencer reminded.
Ryan laughed and put his arm around Spencer. “I’m sorry,” he apologized. “I should have known. But Brendon really is a good guy.”
Spencer glanced at Brendon. Looking back at Ryan, he asked, “Wait- are you two, like- I don’t know. Do you…?”
“Like each other? They do,” Jon said, getting tired of staying silent. Brendon and Ryan looked at each other, exchanging shy but sappy looks.
“Oh”, Spencer said. He paused, then added, “That’s… That’s cool. I’m- I’m really happy for you, Rye.”
“Awwwwww!” Brendon gushed, and hurried over to hug Spencer. “You’re all right, aren’t you!”
Spencer gulped for air. “I think,” he squeaked.
Jon watched as Brendon released him, then moved to hold hands with Ryan. They gave each other that look again, and Jon was envious.
_
one year later
_
Brendon looked at Ryan, whose arm was around him. “I love you,” he said.
They were standing in front of the stop sign where Ryan had first come out to Spencer. This wasn’t just Ryan and Spencer’s spot now- Jon and Brendon were allowed, too. The four of them were all friends, and Brendon and Ryan were more.
Much more.
“I love you, too,” Ryan said quietly. It was snowy and freezing, but that wasn’t why he was holding on to Brendon so tightly.
“We’ve come a long way.” Brendon didn’t mean the walk from his house to this spot, but he knew he didn’t have to explain.
“We all have.”
Brendon loved Ryan’s thoughtful expression. “What are you thinking about?” he asked because of it.
Ryan looked back at him. “I don’t know. Everything.” He cleared his throat.
Brendon hummed. “Look at us still talking,” he said significantly.
A smile shone on Ryan’s face. “We can fix that,” he said.
As Brendon felt Ryan’s lips warm his, he smiled into the kiss. Because he knew that every little thing was alright.