Home is Just Another Word for You (Brendon/Spencer) Part 1
Home is Just Another Word for You // R // 10,300 words // Brendon/Spencer
Notes: Um. I guess this is a Garden State AU. Thank you to beachan18 for the beta. Also to stephanometra for the read through and for fixing my comma abuse. I don't mean to treat them so cruelly, bb.
Warning: Drug Use. Minor character death. Gabe's basement.
Spencer watches the raindrops hit and slide down the window as the taxi winds its way up the road. The car is quiet. The driver doesn't have the radio on and he's not much of a talker, which Spencer appreciates. It's what Spencer's father would call a somber day. The entire sky is dark, like it's dusk instead of a little before noon. The windshield wipers keep a rhythm that Spencer can follow, and soon he's breathing along with them - swish, swish, swish - in, out, in. It's a somber day, and Spencer's mother is dead.
The house doesn't look different, which Spencer thinks is kind of strange. It should look different after all these years, but the grass is just as green, cut and trimmed and perfect. The paint is just as blue and his mother's garden is in full bloom, bursts of color that look even sharper against the bleakness of the sky. Spencer wonders how long it will take them to fade now that his mother can no longer tend to them, to wilt and die and shrink back into the ground, dust to dust, ashes to ashes.
It's just a few days into January and the Christmas lights are still strung along the edge of the house and over the bushes. The entire street has decorations of some kind or another and Spencer remembers this too, the blanket of holiday cheer that covers everything in town this time of year.
Spencer's father answers the door and at least he's changed. At least there Spencer can see some mark of time in the lines on his face and the silver in his hair. He looks old, and Spencer wonders if he'd come home two days ago, when his mom was still laughing and singing and breathing, if his father would have looked the same.
They stare at each other for a long time with the rain beating down behind Spencer so hard that it soaks the backs of his legs and his shirt even with the overhang from the porch to protect him.
There are a few people milling around inside the house, black clothes and black looks to match the black sky and Spencer's mouth is so dry that he's not sure he can even manage hello.
Spencer's sister Jackie appears behind their father, and Spencer thinks he sees a small flicker of something in her eyes before she touches their father's arm and says, "Crystal has a question about some of the food. Can you go help her, and I'll get Spencer settled?"
Spencer hasn't seen her since she was fourteen. It's strange to see this woman in front of him instead of a young girl in braces with pimples on her face. Spencer says, "Hello, Jackie," and his voice sounds like tires over gravel, rough and rumbly from disuse.
Jackie cocks her head, her body stiff and trembling, tears shimmering along the edges of her eyes, and then she steps forward and wraps her arms gently around Spencer, turning her head so that her cheek rests against Spencer's chest. Spencer stands, spine rigid for just a moment, before he slouches forward and curls around his sister, one of his arms around her waist and the other cupping her head.
Crystal comes running through the house then, launching herself at them, sandwiching Jackie between Spencer and herself. Jackie makes a small oomph sound, but she doesn't move. She clings and Spencer moves his arms so he can hold on to Crystal too, pulling the both of them in tightly. They stand there like that for a long time, twisted around each other like roots in a pot that's become too small, and Spencer doesn't let go.
Jackie finally tips her head back to ask, "You're staying, right?"
Spencer's eyes go a little wild, because it feels good to have them, to be here, but Spencer's father is somewhere nearby and Spencer has a life in another place now and he can't. He can't.
Crystal says, "No, you idiot. She means you're staying here at the house. Like, for the funeral and stuff."
Spencer blinks and it's weird. He'd forgotten how creepy they could be sometimes, these two completely different people that still have this connection that Spencer could never understand, no matter that they were his sisters as much as they were each other's.
"Oh," Spencer says. "I'm not sure if... I was actually thinking a hotel would be better."
Crystal raises her eyebrow, stepping away, and Spencer can't. He remembers this too, how Jackie turns inward and Crystal lashes out. "Mom's dead," Crystal says harshly, the words like a hand across Spencer's face.
Jackie reaches out, touches the tips of her fingers to Crystal's wrist and they have some kind of silent conversation. Jackie reaches out with her other hand and touches those fingers to Spencer's wrist. She says, "Mom is dead, Spencer. Can you just stay? Please?"
Spencer swallows hard. He hasn't cried in so long he's pretty sure he's forgotten how, but he feels something in his throat, some foreign lump that he doesn't know how to get rid of.
Spencer closes his eyes and breathes deep. When he opens them his father is standing in the hallway, staring at the three of them. He looks... Spencer doesn't know. He supposes that if he was going to name it, he would say his father looks lost.
Spencer looks at Jackie, turning his hand so that he can take hers, twisting their fingers together. She does the same with her other hand in Crystal's, and Spencer says, "Okay. I'll stay."
When he looks again, his father is gone.
###
The rain stops long enough for them to put his mother in the ground. It's soggy and damp and Spencer doesn't cry.
###
Everyone goes back to the house. Spencer sort of wonders when that tradition started. He's tired from flying all day, and he's not... He misses his mother, but that's nothing new. It's just that now he knows he's always going to miss her, that there's no end to this pull, this loss that feels like a hole inside his chest. He doesn't want people or conversation or food. He wants his bed, but that's not here either.
He thinks about his apartment in LA, about his little plant in the kitchen that he really hopes Pete is remembering to water. He wants to go home and that breaks something else inside of him, that he can be here, in this place where he grew up, and it feels strange and foreign.
"Spencer?" someone says, and Spencer braces himself, turning to deal with whatever distant cousin or aunt or friend of the family is there to pass along their condolences.
There is a tray full of finger sandwiches in Spencer's face when he gets all the way around and he takes a step back. Spencer blinks and looks and then says, "Ryan?"
Ryan smiles and says, "Man, it's been like ten years or something. How are you?"
Spencer says, "Well," waving his hand around.
Ryan nods, but he doesn't look particularly sorrowful, which Spencer kind of appreciates. It's not that Spencer doesn't think people are sad, but she was his mother and there's just no way anyone gets that except maybe Jackie and Crystal.
"She was a cool lady," Ryan says. "I remember she used to give me cookies and milk and she always made you share your toys with me even when you didn't want to."
Spencer smiles a little at the memories. "I think maybe she liked you better," Spencer says.
Ryan nods again, like that is not an unreasonable statement at all. "I was a pretty cute kid," he says seriously. "It's a very real possibility."
Ryan was probably Spencer's best friend while growing up. He was this weird kid who lived down the street, and who liked to play dress up and put on his mother's make up. If anyone was going to turn out gay, Spencer would have placed his bets on Ryan, so it was kind of shocking when Spencer went and kissed Robert Sladeck in 10th grade. Robert was definitely shocked, if the black eye he gave Spencer was any indication.
Spencer takes a finger sandwich off the plate and stuffs it in his mouth. "So what are you doing these days?" Spencer asks around a mouthful of bread and cheese.
Ryan purses his lips and brandishes the tray around. "Oh, this and that. I'm trying to be a writer, which means I'm really just a waiter with a tortured soul, but it's cool."
Spencer nods and they fall silent again. It should be awkward, but it's not for some reason, Ryan standing there, smiling his weird little smile. "So, what about you?" Ryan asks.
"Oh," Spencer says. "I'm just... I dropped out of school, and I'm thinking about going back, just working right now, paying the bills."
Ryan nods and asks, "When?"
"Oh, next semester," Spencer says. He's getting a little antsy, and his palms feel sweaty. He can see Jackie over by the window talking to his Aunt Pam.
"No," Ryan says, drawing Spencer's attention back to him. "When did you drop out?"
Spencer doesn't - There is a long pause as Spencer thinks about it, counting out the time, until he looks down at his shoes. His shoes are really dirty, the tops so dark that he can barely tell they used to be white. "I guess it was like four years ago," Spencer says.
Ryan says, "I went for a year. I keep saying I'll go back, but you know, life and shit."
Spencer nods, his eyes roaming the room until he finds Jackie again. This time she's talking to one of their cousins, who is practically crying all over her. Jackie looks annoyed and uncomfortable, and Spencer suddenly wants to go to her.
"Yeah," Spencer says. "Hey, I think my sister needs me, but it was good seeing you."
Ryan smiles brightly and says, "Finger sandwich?" waving the tray in front of Spencer.
Spencer takes another one and starts to walk away. Ryan says, "Oh, hey," and Spencer pauses, looking back over his shoulder. "There's a party at Walker's house tonight. You remember Jon, right?"
Spencer thinks he does, vaguely. He was a jock, a baseball player, who didn't really run in the same crowd as Spencer especially since Spencer's crowd pretty much consisted of Ryan. "Yeah, he played baseball, right?"
Ryan balances his tray on one hand and gives Spencer the thumbs up. "Anyway," he says. "Jon is totally filthy rich now, and he throws the best parties, if you know what I mean."
Spencer really doesn't, but he nods anyway. Ryan winks and says, "So maybe I'll see you there."
Spencer says, "Maybe," and goes to save his sister from overly dramatic second cousins.
###
Spencer goes to smoke a cigarette and finds his father outside nursing a beer. There's a moment where he doesn't know if he should turn around and go back inside, or just man up, but his father turns just as soon as he hears the door sliding open, so it seems sort of chicken-shit to turn and run now.
Spencer flicks his lighter and inhales deeply. His father looks away, his face pinched with disapproval. "You shouldn't smoke," he says.
Spencer shrugs and looks pointedly at his father's beer. "You shouldn't drink," Spencer counters.
His father says, "Smoking causes cancer, though."
Spencer says, "Drinking is the number-one cause of death in the United States." He thinks he's heard that somewhere before. He's not sure if it's even true, but he thinks it is.
His father says, "I'm sure you have a beer every now and then too."
Spencer says, "Well, I do a lot of things I shouldn't do."
His father gets up, setting his beer on one of the little patio tables. "Something we can agree on," he says bitterly.
Spencer sighs and rubs his palms against his thighs, the friction from his jeans making them tingly and warm. "I didn't come here to fight," Spencer says, suddenly exhausted.
"Why did you come here?" his father asks.
Spencer opens his mouth to answer, but nothing comes out.
"It's too late," his father says. "Whatever you came for, it's too late."
Spencer wonders if that's true. He thinks about his mother, about the last time he saw her, the way she looked at him, and how Spencer hadn't thought about goodbye. It wasn't going to be the last time he saw her, until it was.
"It's not..." Spencer starts. "It doesn't have to be. For us, I mean," he finishes.
He doesn't know if that's true either. If his mother had called him a week ago, he wouldn't have answered. He wouldn't have called her back, and now? Now he'd give almost anything to hear her voice again.
Spencer's dad says, "I miss your mother."
Spencer says, "Yes, me too."
###
Spencer helps his sisters put the food away, and then he asks them where Jon's house is. They both look at him with big eyes, and Spencer listens to the house as it settles, the eerie quiet. He sighs and says, "You can drive."
Jon's house is huge. Spencer doesn't remember it being here back when this was his town, so he figures it's probably new, maybe even something Jon built himself.
Jon opens the door when they knock, and Spencer feels kind of stupid. He doesn't even know if Jon's going to remember him. Jon smiles and nods, says, "Hey, Jackie," and then, "Yo, Crystal."
The two of them lean up together and peck either side of Jon's cheeks. He gives them a grin that has Spencer's hands clenching up a little bit, until he reminds himself that they're twenty-four-year-old adults who don't need their big brother interfering in their lives.
Jon moves aside, and the girls go into the house, leaving Spencer standing awkwardly at the door. Spencer shoves his hands in his pockets and says, "I hope you don't mind us crashing. Ryan sort of said it would be okay."
Jon nods and says, "Spencer, right?"
Spencer says, "Yeah. We were in school together, but you were a grade or two ahead of me, I think."
Jon shrugs, like maybe that could be right, and then he says, "Come on in. Mi casa es su casa."
###
Spencer sits on the couch and Jon sits next to him, reaching for a bong that's sitting, unused, on the coffee table. He pulls a lighter out of his pocket and puts the flame to the bowl.
The sound of the water bubbling gets a few heads turning, and soon there's a little group congregating around the table, waiting for the bong to get passed their way. Spencer shrugs his shoulders when Jon passes him the bong and takes a hit.
"So," Spencer says. "How did all this happen?" He waves his arms around at the house.
Jon smiles kind of stupidly, licking his lips and says, "I designed these shoes called “Slaps”. They just kind of... slap to the bottoms of your feet. Like, there aren't any straps or anything. It's all very freeing." Jon takes another hit off the bong as it makes its way around again. "Anyway, they paid me a sick amount of money for the idea."
Spencer blinks a couple of times, trying to remember the last time he actually heard a real live person use the word sick. "How sick?" Spencer asks.
Jon smiles, passing Spencer the bong again. "Pretty sick," he says.
Later, Spencer says, "So, you just do nothing now?"
Jon's got his head tipped back, his eyes closed, and this little smile on his face. "Yeah," he says. "It's really fucking boring."
Spencer thinks about his odd jobs in LA, about busting his ass everyday waiting tables only to barely make the rent every month. "I'll bet," he says. "Why don't you travel?"
Jon sits up and says, "I don't know. It's like, I thought I was going to spend most of my life bitching about bills and the man and how society doesn't do anything but hold us back, and now? I guess I'm still trying to sort myself out."
Spencer can totally understand that. Spencer's been trying to sort himself out forever, and he's not any closer now than he was ten years ago. "I'm pretty baked," Spencer says.
Jon nods and says, "Yeah," before he turns to the table at large and says, "Let's all roll and play spin the bottle."
One of the girls giggles and crawls across the floor, grabbing a box off one of the other tables. It's one of those old, wooden cigar boxes, and when she flips the lid Spencer sees all kinds of shit inside; pills and weed and baggies of things Spencer would rather not think about.
The girl passes around the pills, and Spencer stares down at his for a long time before he thinks what the fuck, tipping his head back as he swallows it.
They play spin the bottle, and it's all kind blurry, the edges slightly out of focus. The girl with the giggle kisses him at one point, and it's weird. It's been a long time since he's kissed a girl. It's not bad exactly, but that's probably the E winding through his system, making his skin feel thin and stretched and overly sensitive.
He thinks he sees Ryan at one point making out with a girl that looks suspiciously like Jackie, but then there's more spinning and more kissing and more weed, and then, there's nothing at all.
###
Spencer wakes up with his face pressed into a couch he doesn't recognize. He blinks, sitting up to take in his surroundings. His mouth tastes like something died in it, and his head is throbbing, pounding so hard, Spencer thinks it might explode.
Jon wanders through and says, "Oh, hi. There's coffee."
Spencer follows his nose, and finds Ryan and Jackie sipping coffee together in the kitchen. They both look like they have sex hair, but that's something Spencer doesn't even want to think about.
"Coffee," Spencer says desperately, and Jackie looks up from her place at the table and starts cracking up.
Ryan looks up too, joining in a second later. "Dude," Ryan says.
Jackie says, "I'll make you a cup, but go wash your face first."
Spencer doesn't ask, he just turns and goes to look for a bathroom. He stares at his reflection in the mirror for a long time and wonders how he managed to let someone draw a cock and balls on his cheek without remembering it. He is never getting fucked up again.
He scrubs at his cheek until it's red and raw, and he can still see a faint outline of the damn thing. Permanent marker is a bitch, and if Spencer ever finds out who did this, he's going to punch them real hard in the face.
He comes out of the bathroom and goes back to the kitchen to find a cup of coffee waiting for him. Jackie is gone, but Ryan's still there, reading the paper.
"Hey," he says, looking up and studying Spencer's cheek.
Spencer sits down and grabs for his coffee cup. "Hey," he says back.
Ryan says, "It's mostly gone," and Spencer just nods, before he takes a giant gulp of coffee.
"I'm going to punch whatever piece of shit did that right in the face if I ever find them out," Spencer says.
Ryan smirks, giving him a little thumbs up, and they sit in silence for a little while.
Spencer finally says, "I guess I should find Jackie and Crystal and head home."
Ryan says, "Oh, they left. I think Crystal had to work, and Jackie wanted a shower. I can give you a ride back if you want."
Spencer says, "Sure, thanks."
Ryan says, "No problem," and then, "I'm sleeping with Jackie by the way. I hope that's not going to be an issue."
Spencer says, "Man, I don't... Don't tell me shit like that. I don't want to think about it."
"Fair enough," Ryan says.
They get up, and Spencer rinses his coffee cup, setting it gently in the sink. "Do you know a good psychiatrist around here?" Spencer asks suddenly.
Ryan quirks an eyebrow and says, "I know thinking about your little sister having sex is probably freaky, dude, but I don't think it's something you need to go mental over."
Spencer puts his face in his hands and prays for patience. He doesn't remember the last time he talked to this many people for this long, and he's starting to remember why. "No," Spencer says. "I'm on... I take medication, and I'm almost out. I'm going to need a refill before I get back to LA."
Ryan says, "How long are you planning on staying?"
Spencer doesn't know. He guesses he could probably leave now, and it wouldn't make much difference, but his job gave him a week, and he's here. He's here with his sisters, and there's his father, and he doesn't know if he even wants to try, but he's here.
"A few more days at least," Spencer says.
Ryan says, "I know a good one. Her name is Kara Sanft. She's got an office down on Main."
Spencer says, "Thanks," and the two of them walk together toward the front door. "Should we tell Jon goodbye?" Spencer asks.
Ryan turns around and screams, "Goodbye, Jon," listening to it echo out across the house, until Spencer hears Jon's voice, distant and far off, scream back, "Catch you later, dudes."
###
Dr. Sanft's office is cheerful with colorful, framed art hanging on the walls, and several potted plants positioned around the waiting area. The chairs are big and comfortable looking and in varying colors of red, blue, green and yellow, reminding Spencer of a box full of crayons.
The office is empty except for one guy, sitting in a red chair, earphones dangling from his ears. Spencer goes up to the receptionist and gives her his information. "It'll be a few minutes," she says.
Spencer nods and goes to take a seat. He sits in a yellow chair at the end of the row, farthest away from the other guy. He picks up a magazine and leafs through it. It's one of those boring magazines that's supposed to teach parents how to not fuck up their kids, and Spencer wonders if his parents ever read anything like this when he was growing up.
The guy at the end of the row says, "How do you feel about The Killers?"
Spencer looks up and blinks, glancing around the room for a moment, before he realizes that the guy is apparently talking to him. "Umm, I don't know what that is, but I'm not generally fond of killers."
The guy nods and says, "It's a band. They're awesome. You should come listen." He holds out one of his earbuds and Spencer isn't sure what he's supposed to do here. It seems sort of rude to just go back to his magazine, especially since he wasn't all that interested in it in the first place, but he's also not sure he wants to go sit next to some random guy in a shrink’s office who is listening to songs sung by killers.
"Okay," Spencer hears himself say. He gets up and moves down the row until he takes a seat next to the guy. He puts the earbud in and listens to the singer lament about his girlfriend looking like someone else's boyfriend. They're actually not bad, and Spencer finds himself tapping his foot along to the beat.
"I'm Brendon, by the way. Brendon Urie," the guy says and he smiles big, his mouth stretching so that it takes up practically his whole face.
Spencer's suddenly struck by how close they are, their heads turned toward one another as they share the earphones.
"Spencer," Spencer says a little breathlessly.
He moves away, leaning back a bit, and his foot curves under the chair. He ends up kicking something, sending it skittering out from under Brendon's chair. It's a helmet. An actual honest to god helmet.
"Umm," Spencer says, looking at the helmet.
"I'm part of a motorcycle gang," Brendon says.
The helmet is fatigue green and padded and looks nothing like something a biker would wear. Spencer says, "Yeah?"
Brendon puts his foot on top of it and slides it back under his seat, nodding his head. "What are you in for?" he asks, tipping his chin toward the door.
Spencer doesn't really talk about this with people, not that Spencer really has people. Spencer is kind of alone most of the time, except for his plant, which is probably dead anyway. "I need a refill on a prescription, and I'm sort of stuck here for a few days."
That's not really the truth, but it's easier than explaining anything else.
Brendon taps his foot and says, "What's your poison?"
Spencer says, "Umm, what?" and Brendon puts his hands in the air like he's weighing something back and forth and says, "Lexapro, Prozac, Zoloft, Wellbutrin? Or, maybe it's not depression, maybe it's anxiety? Xanax, Klonopin, Ativan? What wonder drug do they have working wonders on you?"
Spencer says, "You sure know a lot about psychiatric medication."
Brendon says, "My sister is a psychiatrist."
"Oh, yeah," Spencer says. "Is she any good?"
The door to the inner office opens then, and the receptionist calls Spencer's name. Spencer stands up, and Brendon says, "I have no idea. You'll have to tell me when you're done talking to her."
Spencer looks down, and Brendon is smiling again, humming along to the music he's still got playing in one ear. Spencer shakes his head and says, "It was nice meeting you."
Brendon says, "Was it really? Most people just spout pleasantries when they don't really mean them."
Spencer has no idea what to say, but there's something about Brendon that makes Spencer want to be honest. "Well, it was interesting anyway," Spencer says, and Brendon beams at him, this smile that kind of takes Spencer's breath away.
"Interesting is better than nice," Brendon says as he picks up the other earbud Spencer had been using and puts it in his ear.
Spencer turns and walks to where the receptionist is waiting for him, but he glances back when he gets to the door, and Brendon is watching him, his mouth moving along to whatever he's listening to.
Spencer tells the receptionist, "I'll be right back," and then he crosses back over to Brendon and stands in front of him, waiting while Brendon pulls his ear phones off and hangs them around his neck.
"Yes?" Brendon says.
Spencer says, "It's Nardil."
Brendon looks at him, unblinking, like if he stares long enough he might see something that Spencer isn't telling him. "You must be pretty fucked up," he finally says.
Spencer laughs, and it feels like he's dislodging something that's been stuck in his chest for years. "You have no idea," Spencer says.
Brendon nods, but he says, "I have a pretty good idea."
The receptionist clears her throat pointedly, and Spencer says, "I better go."
Brendon says, "You better. My sister charges by the hour."
Spencer thinks there's a joke in there somewhere, and he's pretty sure Brendon would even laugh at it, despite the fact that Spencer would be insulting his sister. He doesn't make it, though, and then the moment is gone. Spencer says, "I'll see you, Brendon Urie."
Brendon says, "Yes. Yes, you will."
Part 2
Notes: Um. I guess this is a Garden State AU. Thank you to beachan18 for the beta. Also to stephanometra for the read through and for fixing my comma abuse. I don't mean to treat them so cruelly, bb.
Warning: Drug Use. Minor character death. Gabe's basement.
Spencer watches the raindrops hit and slide down the window as the taxi winds its way up the road. The car is quiet. The driver doesn't have the radio on and he's not much of a talker, which Spencer appreciates. It's what Spencer's father would call a somber day. The entire sky is dark, like it's dusk instead of a little before noon. The windshield wipers keep a rhythm that Spencer can follow, and soon he's breathing along with them - swish, swish, swish - in, out, in. It's a somber day, and Spencer's mother is dead.
The house doesn't look different, which Spencer thinks is kind of strange. It should look different after all these years, but the grass is just as green, cut and trimmed and perfect. The paint is just as blue and his mother's garden is in full bloom, bursts of color that look even sharper against the bleakness of the sky. Spencer wonders how long it will take them to fade now that his mother can no longer tend to them, to wilt and die and shrink back into the ground, dust to dust, ashes to ashes.
It's just a few days into January and the Christmas lights are still strung along the edge of the house and over the bushes. The entire street has decorations of some kind or another and Spencer remembers this too, the blanket of holiday cheer that covers everything in town this time of year.
Spencer's father answers the door and at least he's changed. At least there Spencer can see some mark of time in the lines on his face and the silver in his hair. He looks old, and Spencer wonders if he'd come home two days ago, when his mom was still laughing and singing and breathing, if his father would have looked the same.
They stare at each other for a long time with the rain beating down behind Spencer so hard that it soaks the backs of his legs and his shirt even with the overhang from the porch to protect him.
There are a few people milling around inside the house, black clothes and black looks to match the black sky and Spencer's mouth is so dry that he's not sure he can even manage hello.
Spencer's sister Jackie appears behind their father, and Spencer thinks he sees a small flicker of something in her eyes before she touches their father's arm and says, "Crystal has a question about some of the food. Can you go help her, and I'll get Spencer settled?"
Spencer hasn't seen her since she was fourteen. It's strange to see this woman in front of him instead of a young girl in braces with pimples on her face. Spencer says, "Hello, Jackie," and his voice sounds like tires over gravel, rough and rumbly from disuse.
Jackie cocks her head, her body stiff and trembling, tears shimmering along the edges of her eyes, and then she steps forward and wraps her arms gently around Spencer, turning her head so that her cheek rests against Spencer's chest. Spencer stands, spine rigid for just a moment, before he slouches forward and curls around his sister, one of his arms around her waist and the other cupping her head.
Crystal comes running through the house then, launching herself at them, sandwiching Jackie between Spencer and herself. Jackie makes a small oomph sound, but she doesn't move. She clings and Spencer moves his arms so he can hold on to Crystal too, pulling the both of them in tightly. They stand there like that for a long time, twisted around each other like roots in a pot that's become too small, and Spencer doesn't let go.
Jackie finally tips her head back to ask, "You're staying, right?"
Spencer's eyes go a little wild, because it feels good to have them, to be here, but Spencer's father is somewhere nearby and Spencer has a life in another place now and he can't. He can't.
Crystal says, "No, you idiot. She means you're staying here at the house. Like, for the funeral and stuff."
Spencer blinks and it's weird. He'd forgotten how creepy they could be sometimes, these two completely different people that still have this connection that Spencer could never understand, no matter that they were his sisters as much as they were each other's.
"Oh," Spencer says. "I'm not sure if... I was actually thinking a hotel would be better."
Crystal raises her eyebrow, stepping away, and Spencer can't. He remembers this too, how Jackie turns inward and Crystal lashes out. "Mom's dead," Crystal says harshly, the words like a hand across Spencer's face.
Jackie reaches out, touches the tips of her fingers to Crystal's wrist and they have some kind of silent conversation. Jackie reaches out with her other hand and touches those fingers to Spencer's wrist. She says, "Mom is dead, Spencer. Can you just stay? Please?"
Spencer swallows hard. He hasn't cried in so long he's pretty sure he's forgotten how, but he feels something in his throat, some foreign lump that he doesn't know how to get rid of.
Spencer closes his eyes and breathes deep. When he opens them his father is standing in the hallway, staring at the three of them. He looks... Spencer doesn't know. He supposes that if he was going to name it, he would say his father looks lost.
Spencer looks at Jackie, turning his hand so that he can take hers, twisting their fingers together. She does the same with her other hand in Crystal's, and Spencer says, "Okay. I'll stay."
When he looks again, his father is gone.
###
The rain stops long enough for them to put his mother in the ground. It's soggy and damp and Spencer doesn't cry.
###
Everyone goes back to the house. Spencer sort of wonders when that tradition started. He's tired from flying all day, and he's not... He misses his mother, but that's nothing new. It's just that now he knows he's always going to miss her, that there's no end to this pull, this loss that feels like a hole inside his chest. He doesn't want people or conversation or food. He wants his bed, but that's not here either.
He thinks about his apartment in LA, about his little plant in the kitchen that he really hopes Pete is remembering to water. He wants to go home and that breaks something else inside of him, that he can be here, in this place where he grew up, and it feels strange and foreign.
"Spencer?" someone says, and Spencer braces himself, turning to deal with whatever distant cousin or aunt or friend of the family is there to pass along their condolences.
There is a tray full of finger sandwiches in Spencer's face when he gets all the way around and he takes a step back. Spencer blinks and looks and then says, "Ryan?"
Ryan smiles and says, "Man, it's been like ten years or something. How are you?"
Spencer says, "Well," waving his hand around.
Ryan nods, but he doesn't look particularly sorrowful, which Spencer kind of appreciates. It's not that Spencer doesn't think people are sad, but she was his mother and there's just no way anyone gets that except maybe Jackie and Crystal.
"She was a cool lady," Ryan says. "I remember she used to give me cookies and milk and she always made you share your toys with me even when you didn't want to."
Spencer smiles a little at the memories. "I think maybe she liked you better," Spencer says.
Ryan nods again, like that is not an unreasonable statement at all. "I was a pretty cute kid," he says seriously. "It's a very real possibility."
Ryan was probably Spencer's best friend while growing up. He was this weird kid who lived down the street, and who liked to play dress up and put on his mother's make up. If anyone was going to turn out gay, Spencer would have placed his bets on Ryan, so it was kind of shocking when Spencer went and kissed Robert Sladeck in 10th grade. Robert was definitely shocked, if the black eye he gave Spencer was any indication.
Spencer takes a finger sandwich off the plate and stuffs it in his mouth. "So what are you doing these days?" Spencer asks around a mouthful of bread and cheese.
Ryan purses his lips and brandishes the tray around. "Oh, this and that. I'm trying to be a writer, which means I'm really just a waiter with a tortured soul, but it's cool."
Spencer nods and they fall silent again. It should be awkward, but it's not for some reason, Ryan standing there, smiling his weird little smile. "So, what about you?" Ryan asks.
"Oh," Spencer says. "I'm just... I dropped out of school, and I'm thinking about going back, just working right now, paying the bills."
Ryan nods and asks, "When?"
"Oh, next semester," Spencer says. He's getting a little antsy, and his palms feel sweaty. He can see Jackie over by the window talking to his Aunt Pam.
"No," Ryan says, drawing Spencer's attention back to him. "When did you drop out?"
Spencer doesn't - There is a long pause as Spencer thinks about it, counting out the time, until he looks down at his shoes. His shoes are really dirty, the tops so dark that he can barely tell they used to be white. "I guess it was like four years ago," Spencer says.
Ryan says, "I went for a year. I keep saying I'll go back, but you know, life and shit."
Spencer nods, his eyes roaming the room until he finds Jackie again. This time she's talking to one of their cousins, who is practically crying all over her. Jackie looks annoyed and uncomfortable, and Spencer suddenly wants to go to her.
"Yeah," Spencer says. "Hey, I think my sister needs me, but it was good seeing you."
Ryan smiles brightly and says, "Finger sandwich?" waving the tray in front of Spencer.
Spencer takes another one and starts to walk away. Ryan says, "Oh, hey," and Spencer pauses, looking back over his shoulder. "There's a party at Walker's house tonight. You remember Jon, right?"
Spencer thinks he does, vaguely. He was a jock, a baseball player, who didn't really run in the same crowd as Spencer especially since Spencer's crowd pretty much consisted of Ryan. "Yeah, he played baseball, right?"
Ryan balances his tray on one hand and gives Spencer the thumbs up. "Anyway," he says. "Jon is totally filthy rich now, and he throws the best parties, if you know what I mean."
Spencer really doesn't, but he nods anyway. Ryan winks and says, "So maybe I'll see you there."
Spencer says, "Maybe," and goes to save his sister from overly dramatic second cousins.
###
Spencer goes to smoke a cigarette and finds his father outside nursing a beer. There's a moment where he doesn't know if he should turn around and go back inside, or just man up, but his father turns just as soon as he hears the door sliding open, so it seems sort of chicken-shit to turn and run now.
Spencer flicks his lighter and inhales deeply. His father looks away, his face pinched with disapproval. "You shouldn't smoke," he says.
Spencer shrugs and looks pointedly at his father's beer. "You shouldn't drink," Spencer counters.
His father says, "Smoking causes cancer, though."
Spencer says, "Drinking is the number-one cause of death in the United States." He thinks he's heard that somewhere before. He's not sure if it's even true, but he thinks it is.
His father says, "I'm sure you have a beer every now and then too."
Spencer says, "Well, I do a lot of things I shouldn't do."
His father gets up, setting his beer on one of the little patio tables. "Something we can agree on," he says bitterly.
Spencer sighs and rubs his palms against his thighs, the friction from his jeans making them tingly and warm. "I didn't come here to fight," Spencer says, suddenly exhausted.
"Why did you come here?" his father asks.
Spencer opens his mouth to answer, but nothing comes out.
"It's too late," his father says. "Whatever you came for, it's too late."
Spencer wonders if that's true. He thinks about his mother, about the last time he saw her, the way she looked at him, and how Spencer hadn't thought about goodbye. It wasn't going to be the last time he saw her, until it was.
"It's not..." Spencer starts. "It doesn't have to be. For us, I mean," he finishes.
He doesn't know if that's true either. If his mother had called him a week ago, he wouldn't have answered. He wouldn't have called her back, and now? Now he'd give almost anything to hear her voice again.
Spencer's dad says, "I miss your mother."
Spencer says, "Yes, me too."
###
Spencer helps his sisters put the food away, and then he asks them where Jon's house is. They both look at him with big eyes, and Spencer listens to the house as it settles, the eerie quiet. He sighs and says, "You can drive."
Jon's house is huge. Spencer doesn't remember it being here back when this was his town, so he figures it's probably new, maybe even something Jon built himself.
Jon opens the door when they knock, and Spencer feels kind of stupid. He doesn't even know if Jon's going to remember him. Jon smiles and nods, says, "Hey, Jackie," and then, "Yo, Crystal."
The two of them lean up together and peck either side of Jon's cheeks. He gives them a grin that has Spencer's hands clenching up a little bit, until he reminds himself that they're twenty-four-year-old adults who don't need their big brother interfering in their lives.
Jon moves aside, and the girls go into the house, leaving Spencer standing awkwardly at the door. Spencer shoves his hands in his pockets and says, "I hope you don't mind us crashing. Ryan sort of said it would be okay."
Jon nods and says, "Spencer, right?"
Spencer says, "Yeah. We were in school together, but you were a grade or two ahead of me, I think."
Jon shrugs, like maybe that could be right, and then he says, "Come on in. Mi casa es su casa."
###
Spencer sits on the couch and Jon sits next to him, reaching for a bong that's sitting, unused, on the coffee table. He pulls a lighter out of his pocket and puts the flame to the bowl.
The sound of the water bubbling gets a few heads turning, and soon there's a little group congregating around the table, waiting for the bong to get passed their way. Spencer shrugs his shoulders when Jon passes him the bong and takes a hit.
"So," Spencer says. "How did all this happen?" He waves his arms around at the house.
Jon smiles kind of stupidly, licking his lips and says, "I designed these shoes called “Slaps”. They just kind of... slap to the bottoms of your feet. Like, there aren't any straps or anything. It's all very freeing." Jon takes another hit off the bong as it makes its way around again. "Anyway, they paid me a sick amount of money for the idea."
Spencer blinks a couple of times, trying to remember the last time he actually heard a real live person use the word sick. "How sick?" Spencer asks.
Jon smiles, passing Spencer the bong again. "Pretty sick," he says.
Later, Spencer says, "So, you just do nothing now?"
Jon's got his head tipped back, his eyes closed, and this little smile on his face. "Yeah," he says. "It's really fucking boring."
Spencer thinks about his odd jobs in LA, about busting his ass everyday waiting tables only to barely make the rent every month. "I'll bet," he says. "Why don't you travel?"
Jon sits up and says, "I don't know. It's like, I thought I was going to spend most of my life bitching about bills and the man and how society doesn't do anything but hold us back, and now? I guess I'm still trying to sort myself out."
Spencer can totally understand that. Spencer's been trying to sort himself out forever, and he's not any closer now than he was ten years ago. "I'm pretty baked," Spencer says.
Jon nods and says, "Yeah," before he turns to the table at large and says, "Let's all roll and play spin the bottle."
One of the girls giggles and crawls across the floor, grabbing a box off one of the other tables. It's one of those old, wooden cigar boxes, and when she flips the lid Spencer sees all kinds of shit inside; pills and weed and baggies of things Spencer would rather not think about.
The girl passes around the pills, and Spencer stares down at his for a long time before he thinks what the fuck, tipping his head back as he swallows it.
They play spin the bottle, and it's all kind blurry, the edges slightly out of focus. The girl with the giggle kisses him at one point, and it's weird. It's been a long time since he's kissed a girl. It's not bad exactly, but that's probably the E winding through his system, making his skin feel thin and stretched and overly sensitive.
He thinks he sees Ryan at one point making out with a girl that looks suspiciously like Jackie, but then there's more spinning and more kissing and more weed, and then, there's nothing at all.
###
Spencer wakes up with his face pressed into a couch he doesn't recognize. He blinks, sitting up to take in his surroundings. His mouth tastes like something died in it, and his head is throbbing, pounding so hard, Spencer thinks it might explode.
Jon wanders through and says, "Oh, hi. There's coffee."
Spencer follows his nose, and finds Ryan and Jackie sipping coffee together in the kitchen. They both look like they have sex hair, but that's something Spencer doesn't even want to think about.
"Coffee," Spencer says desperately, and Jackie looks up from her place at the table and starts cracking up.
Ryan looks up too, joining in a second later. "Dude," Ryan says.
Jackie says, "I'll make you a cup, but go wash your face first."
Spencer doesn't ask, he just turns and goes to look for a bathroom. He stares at his reflection in the mirror for a long time and wonders how he managed to let someone draw a cock and balls on his cheek without remembering it. He is never getting fucked up again.
He scrubs at his cheek until it's red and raw, and he can still see a faint outline of the damn thing. Permanent marker is a bitch, and if Spencer ever finds out who did this, he's going to punch them real hard in the face.
He comes out of the bathroom and goes back to the kitchen to find a cup of coffee waiting for him. Jackie is gone, but Ryan's still there, reading the paper.
"Hey," he says, looking up and studying Spencer's cheek.
Spencer sits down and grabs for his coffee cup. "Hey," he says back.
Ryan says, "It's mostly gone," and Spencer just nods, before he takes a giant gulp of coffee.
"I'm going to punch whatever piece of shit did that right in the face if I ever find them out," Spencer says.
Ryan smirks, giving him a little thumbs up, and they sit in silence for a little while.
Spencer finally says, "I guess I should find Jackie and Crystal and head home."
Ryan says, "Oh, they left. I think Crystal had to work, and Jackie wanted a shower. I can give you a ride back if you want."
Spencer says, "Sure, thanks."
Ryan says, "No problem," and then, "I'm sleeping with Jackie by the way. I hope that's not going to be an issue."
Spencer says, "Man, I don't... Don't tell me shit like that. I don't want to think about it."
"Fair enough," Ryan says.
They get up, and Spencer rinses his coffee cup, setting it gently in the sink. "Do you know a good psychiatrist around here?" Spencer asks suddenly.
Ryan quirks an eyebrow and says, "I know thinking about your little sister having sex is probably freaky, dude, but I don't think it's something you need to go mental over."
Spencer puts his face in his hands and prays for patience. He doesn't remember the last time he talked to this many people for this long, and he's starting to remember why. "No," Spencer says. "I'm on... I take medication, and I'm almost out. I'm going to need a refill before I get back to LA."
Ryan says, "How long are you planning on staying?"
Spencer doesn't know. He guesses he could probably leave now, and it wouldn't make much difference, but his job gave him a week, and he's here. He's here with his sisters, and there's his father, and he doesn't know if he even wants to try, but he's here.
"A few more days at least," Spencer says.
Ryan says, "I know a good one. Her name is Kara Sanft. She's got an office down on Main."
Spencer says, "Thanks," and the two of them walk together toward the front door. "Should we tell Jon goodbye?" Spencer asks.
Ryan turns around and screams, "Goodbye, Jon," listening to it echo out across the house, until Spencer hears Jon's voice, distant and far off, scream back, "Catch you later, dudes."
###
Dr. Sanft's office is cheerful with colorful, framed art hanging on the walls, and several potted plants positioned around the waiting area. The chairs are big and comfortable looking and in varying colors of red, blue, green and yellow, reminding Spencer of a box full of crayons.
The office is empty except for one guy, sitting in a red chair, earphones dangling from his ears. Spencer goes up to the receptionist and gives her his information. "It'll be a few minutes," she says.
Spencer nods and goes to take a seat. He sits in a yellow chair at the end of the row, farthest away from the other guy. He picks up a magazine and leafs through it. It's one of those boring magazines that's supposed to teach parents how to not fuck up their kids, and Spencer wonders if his parents ever read anything like this when he was growing up.
The guy at the end of the row says, "How do you feel about The Killers?"
Spencer looks up and blinks, glancing around the room for a moment, before he realizes that the guy is apparently talking to him. "Umm, I don't know what that is, but I'm not generally fond of killers."
The guy nods and says, "It's a band. They're awesome. You should come listen." He holds out one of his earbuds and Spencer isn't sure what he's supposed to do here. It seems sort of rude to just go back to his magazine, especially since he wasn't all that interested in it in the first place, but he's also not sure he wants to go sit next to some random guy in a shrink’s office who is listening to songs sung by killers.
"Okay," Spencer hears himself say. He gets up and moves down the row until he takes a seat next to the guy. He puts the earbud in and listens to the singer lament about his girlfriend looking like someone else's boyfriend. They're actually not bad, and Spencer finds himself tapping his foot along to the beat.
"I'm Brendon, by the way. Brendon Urie," the guy says and he smiles big, his mouth stretching so that it takes up practically his whole face.
Spencer's suddenly struck by how close they are, their heads turned toward one another as they share the earphones.
"Spencer," Spencer says a little breathlessly.
He moves away, leaning back a bit, and his foot curves under the chair. He ends up kicking something, sending it skittering out from under Brendon's chair. It's a helmet. An actual honest to god helmet.
"Umm," Spencer says, looking at the helmet.
"I'm part of a motorcycle gang," Brendon says.
The helmet is fatigue green and padded and looks nothing like something a biker would wear. Spencer says, "Yeah?"
Brendon puts his foot on top of it and slides it back under his seat, nodding his head. "What are you in for?" he asks, tipping his chin toward the door.
Spencer doesn't really talk about this with people, not that Spencer really has people. Spencer is kind of alone most of the time, except for his plant, which is probably dead anyway. "I need a refill on a prescription, and I'm sort of stuck here for a few days."
That's not really the truth, but it's easier than explaining anything else.
Brendon taps his foot and says, "What's your poison?"
Spencer says, "Umm, what?" and Brendon puts his hands in the air like he's weighing something back and forth and says, "Lexapro, Prozac, Zoloft, Wellbutrin? Or, maybe it's not depression, maybe it's anxiety? Xanax, Klonopin, Ativan? What wonder drug do they have working wonders on you?"
Spencer says, "You sure know a lot about psychiatric medication."
Brendon says, "My sister is a psychiatrist."
"Oh, yeah," Spencer says. "Is she any good?"
The door to the inner office opens then, and the receptionist calls Spencer's name. Spencer stands up, and Brendon says, "I have no idea. You'll have to tell me when you're done talking to her."
Spencer looks down, and Brendon is smiling again, humming along to the music he's still got playing in one ear. Spencer shakes his head and says, "It was nice meeting you."
Brendon says, "Was it really? Most people just spout pleasantries when they don't really mean them."
Spencer has no idea what to say, but there's something about Brendon that makes Spencer want to be honest. "Well, it was interesting anyway," Spencer says, and Brendon beams at him, this smile that kind of takes Spencer's breath away.
"Interesting is better than nice," Brendon says as he picks up the other earbud Spencer had been using and puts it in his ear.
Spencer turns and walks to where the receptionist is waiting for him, but he glances back when he gets to the door, and Brendon is watching him, his mouth moving along to whatever he's listening to.
Spencer tells the receptionist, "I'll be right back," and then he crosses back over to Brendon and stands in front of him, waiting while Brendon pulls his ear phones off and hangs them around his neck.
"Yes?" Brendon says.
Spencer says, "It's Nardil."
Brendon looks at him, unblinking, like if he stares long enough he might see something that Spencer isn't telling him. "You must be pretty fucked up," he finally says.
Spencer laughs, and it feels like he's dislodging something that's been stuck in his chest for years. "You have no idea," Spencer says.
Brendon nods, but he says, "I have a pretty good idea."
The receptionist clears her throat pointedly, and Spencer says, "I better go."
Brendon says, "You better. My sister charges by the hour."
Spencer thinks there's a joke in there somewhere, and he's pretty sure Brendon would even laugh at it, despite the fact that Spencer would be insulting his sister. He doesn't make it, though, and then the moment is gone. Spencer says, "I'll see you, Brendon Urie."
Brendon says, "Yes. Yes, you will."
Part 2