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Heart and Tender
Part Seven
Pete looks down at the signed contract with a mixture of disbelief and grim acceptance.
"None of that changed your mind, huh?" he asks and Brendon's not sure if he's talking about the arguments, the lectures or the tense days of silence between them.
"Not enough," Brendon replies stubbornly and Pete shakes his head wearily, all of the fight leaving his body in one breath.
When he lifts his head back up, his face is back in the business mode that reminds Brendon of his first few visits to Decaydance. There's no familiar warmth or teasing sparkle and Brendon's suddenly just another customer. For all the tension between he and Pete the past few weeks, the formality still washes over Brendon icily.
"You're probably not going to want to come to work for a while," Pete tells him in a matter-of-fact tone and Brendon blinks.
"What?" he asks, a hint of outrage in his voice that seems to slide off Pete ineffectually.
"Ryan's going to want to be here, maybe to yell at me for selling his heart or maybe to get out of his house for a while and away from things he doesn't know how to deal with. You're not going to want to be here."
Brendon swallows any protest that was forming, and the lump goes down his throat heavily. Eventually he nods in agreement and Pete turns away, walking briskly to the heart room.
Brendon follows and it's somehow eerily similar to his first visits to Decaydance and also not the same at all. This must be what it feels like to walk in knowing what you wanted, Brendon thinks as he grabs Ryan's heart. It's practically a blinding white now in his hands and Brendon is suddenly aware that this is probably the last he'll see of the other hearts. Brendon hadn't realized that buying Ryan's heart would sever his friendship with Pete, but it's looking entirely possible as this point. Pete locks the door behind him and ushers Brendon forward professionally.
"Give me the heart and then your hand," Pete instructs and Brendon wonders for a second how he's never seen this happen before in all the time he's been working here.
Pete draws a symbol on the palm of Brendon's hand, repeats the process on the heart and then presses the two together. A tickle runs through Brendon's palm and up his arm into his chest and he shivers at the sensation, but there's no little grin or reassuring word from Pete.
"Until you decide to give Ryan his heart, he'll be in love with you," Pete details in a detached voice that sounds nothing like him. "If you decide to give it back to him, open the lid. Don't do it in a public place or where anyone could walk in on it." For a second, Pete breaks his monotone character, looking something like pained. "Just don't be surprised if he doesn't end up thanking you endlessly."
"I don't care what he ends up thinking of me," Brendon lies. "I'm doing this for Ryan."
*****
Brendon walks around with Ryan's heart in his backpack, both a comforting weight and a condemning one.
There's no immediate lightning strike of change that Brendon notices- no clouds looming ominously, no sudden doom that befalls him- that might hint that anything's even happened.
When Brendon checks his phone an hour later though, there are two texts from Ryan, which is more in a row than Brendon's ever gotten from him. One says simply hey and the other want 2 hang? im at the park. Brendon looks down at his cell phone for a long minute and then closes it shakily.
Brendon plans on giving Ryan's heart back right away. He's worked up all of this momentum, all of this determination and righteousness in the face of Jon and Pete's doubt, and he's sure that he's prepared to give Ryan's heart back until it's actually sitting in his hands, swirling and warm. And then he puts it back in his backpack and leaves it sitting in his room when he goes to meet Ryan at the school's playground.
Ryan's already there, sitting at the bottom of the slide, and when he looks up at Brendon his eyes are bright in a way that they never are, even in his happiest, most unguarded moments. It should send Brendon's heart aflutter and instead he just feels nauseous.
"Hey Brendon," Ryan says as he scoots over to give him room to sit.
"Hey. What's up?" Brendon replies uneasily. Ryan doesn't seem to notice, blinking over at Brendon before glancing quickly at the sky.
He doesn't answer for a long while, which is so Ryan that Brendon relaxes for a second. "Nothing," he says eventually and Brendon nods in agreement and then jumps when Ryan puts his cold hand on the exposed skin on Brendon's back, right above his jeans.
"What the-" Brendon flinches away from the cold and Ryan pulls his hand back, looking confused.
"Sorry," he says in a bewildered tone. "I'm not sure- I don't know-"
"Hey, hey, it's cool," Brendon assures him. Ryan's rarely the one that initiates overt physical contact, but Brendon's willing to guess where this sudden touchiness is stemming from. "Just- cold hands," he offers lamely.
Ryan seems to accept that, tucking his hands under his arms as he huddles in on himself. "Sorry," he repeats and that alone tells Brendon how wrong this is.
"Don't worry about it," Brendon says weakly. He wants nothing more than to go home and leave behind this softer version of Ryan who looks at Brendon with big, hopeful eyes in the way that Brendon imagines he must look at Ryan too.
They sit in silence and Brendon's not sure if it's as comfortable as it usually is and Brendon's just adding meaning and tension into the gaps or if there's actually something sitting in the air between them. Ryan's face betrays nothing as he stares up at the slightly overcast sky, letting a cloud shadow both the sun and his face. And still, even if Ryan's the one who's supposed to be in love with Brendon, it's somehow Brendon that ends up staring like an idiot.
Brendon doesn't like this new version of Ryan, but it's harder than he thought to work up the courage to give him his heart. When the first day passes, Brendon tells himself that he just needs to get over the shock of actually buying the heart. And when that first day bleeds into three more and Ryan's heart is still sitting in Brendon's room under a pile of dirty laundry, Brendon tries to assure himself that he was just waiting for the right moment, somewhere safe from prying eyes. They hang out often (even if Ryan's still not what Brendon would consider clingy) and there are plenty of opportunities that Brendon knows he should seize and use to give Ryan back his heart.
Instead, Brendon waits. When's the perfect time to drop that sort of bombshell on someone? Brendon wonders and when he can't come up with an answer he figures it will present itself eventually.
In the mean time, Ryan's a little more flirtatious in an awkward way that Brendon finds both endearing and sad. It's a little bit like masochism when Brendon wonders if this was how Ryan had treated that blonde girl he'd been at the movies with weeks ago; getting caught staring, hooking an arm around her shoulders like he seems fond of doing to Brendon, humming happy little snatches of songs when they're together. And Brendon can't help but wonder if Ryan would have acted like this around Brendon from the beginning if he had his heart or if it's just because Brendon has it now.
Brendon gets so wrapped up in his own guesses and pondering and thoughts that when he and Ryan are sitting on the curb in the parking lot of a 7-11 and Ryan leans over and looks up at Brendon through his eyelashes, Brendon simply wonders if that was how he might have looked at Brendon one day if he'd always had his heart. Looked up at him with clear brown eyes like-
-like he wants to lean into Brendon's space, breath against his lips and then fit his mouth over Brendon's.
Brendon gasps into the kiss and he thanks whatever God is out there that Ryan doesn't mistake it for acceptance. Then again, Brendon shouldn't be surprised that Ryan might be lacking skill or experience or confidence in this area and he pulls away and can barely look at Ryan, who's blinking at him with a wounded look.
"I- I have to go," Brendon blurts out and doesn't even mind the embarrassed noise that Ryan makes. After all, this isn't Ryan in his right mind- he has nothing to be embarrassed about.
Brendon, on the other hand- he's going to pull the heart out the second he gets home and call Ryan to his house and give it to him. As much as he likes Ryan's attention, had liked pretending that this was something real, he knows it isn't. It's coerced, forced, and that wasn't really Ryan that pressed his lips clumsily against Brendon's, tasting like the cherry Slurpee they'd been sharing. And that makes Brendon feel sick to his stomach; he wipes at his mouth and it comes away red with food coloring.
He doesn't bother to wipe his feet off when he gets home. He stomps up the stairs and flings his bedroom door open, determined to follow through with this.
Instead, he finds his mom sitting stiffly on the edge of his bed, a splotch of black eye makeup rolling down her cheek.
Brendon's had time (too much time probably) to wonder what his mom's face would look like if she ever discovered his sins, his involvement with magic being the foremost, and how he would handle the resulting fallout.
But for all of his imagining and fantasizing and nightmares, he never could have put together the perfect composition of tears, brittle determination and sorrow, bundled together neatly by anger. There's disappointment too but the utter lack of shock is just as telling and Brendon's eyes flicker first to Ryan's heart in her lap and then to her gaze.
"Brendon-" she chokes on the words, on his name, and he flinches.
They face off, a few feet away and millions of miles further apart than either of them imagined, and his mom raises a hand to wipe at one eye.
"We'll talk about this when your father gets home," she says, voice empty. Brendon would prefer that she rage and shout- how dare he bring this into their house, didn't he know what this was, how evil, how sinful- but instead she drops Ryan's heart like it's contaminated and brushes past Brendon without touching him.
Brendon sits on his bed cautiously, focusing on breathing in through his nose and slowly out through his mouth because he's pretty sure that the little gasps that he's making will turn hysterical if he stops to think for too long about anything. He hears the garage door rumble and then his mom's car pulls out and when he's finally sure she's gone Brendon lets out a low noise of hurt and lets himself curl onto his side, nestled in the indent she left.
*****
It ends with a guitar.
Brendon composes himself as best as he can, as fast as he can, because he has no idea how long his mom will be gone or when his dad will be home and there's something he needs to do before then.
When Brendon asks Ryan to come over, Ryan responds to his text right away, telling Brendon that he'll be at his house in a few minutes and that he'll bring the guitar he got that he'd been meaning to show him. Brendon can hear an uncharacteristic eagerness through the text and he hesitates before deleting it.
Brendon wipes at his face with a towel, which clears up some of the wetness but none of the blotchy redness of his skin. He figures that Ryan really won't mind though- he's too in love with Brendon to notice now and then he'll probably be too busy doubled over in pain later to care how Brendon looks.
Ryan looks guarded when Brendon answers the door, but also shy and eager in a way that he hasn't been able to hide very well since Brendon bought his heart. Brendon immediately shushes any apologies for the kiss (another difference between this Ryan and the one that Brendon is used to- the apologies are not only existent but free) and pulls Ryan to his room, his guitar banging between them.
He can see Ryan's eyes light up and dance across various things before settling on the bed. Brendon nearly groans because a few days ago this would have been his dream come true. Instead, he grabs the heart and presses it into Ryan's hands.
"Here," Brendon says and Ryan looks at him for a second uncomprehendingly before realization dawns.
"My heart?" Ryan asks with a note of wonder and Brendon nods. Ryan drops his guitar with a twang and Brendon, in any other circumstance, would wince at the mistreatment. Ryan might too, if he wasn't literally holding his heart in his hands.
"It's yours," Brendon tells him and Ryan glances up with a look of such surprise that it almost makes this (losing his friendship with Pete, damaging his one with Jon, gambling Patrick's heart) worth it.
"Yeah?" Ryan breathes and for a second Brendon can believe that the smile on his face is genuine Ryan. He's looking down at the heart in his hands like it's the most precious thing he's ever seen and when he looks up at Brendon it's with pure joy and Brendon feels something wind in his chest.
And then Ryan's eyes lid half-shut and he leans forward, angled, and Brendon puts a hand on his chest and pushes him back gently.
"Don't," he says and Ryan jerks back a little and stares at Brendon with wide eyes.
And Brendon knows that as much as he likes this, the attention and the excitement and how easy it is to trick himself sometimes, this is unreal, lopsided affection. Ryan has enough sense to look abashed and sullenly embarrassed and Brendon's heart twists when he imagines what this look might mean from Ryan normally; upset that he's been denied anything and angry that he made himself vulnerable with no reward.
Brendon can't keep Ryan bottled up forever, hypnotized and tethered to him.
Brendon hugs Ryan to himself quickly, taking one last selfish moment for himself. He tucks his face into Ryan's neck and breathes in as he gathers courage.
And then the moment's over and Brendon's staring reality in the face. Its brown eyes stare back at him.
Brendon leans over, grabs the top of the jar. "Just, brace yourself," he warns and twists the lid off the jar.
The world's blown open in white.
The main thing that Brendon notices is a lack of noise. He expects something- a boom or a crackle or something, some sort of confirmation of what was happening.
But it's completely silent; the kind of silence that makes Brendon want to scream and shout just to check if he's gone deaf. When he opens his mouth though, no sound comes out even as he can feel his vocal cords straining with the scream he knows should be coming out. He can't hear his heart beating or his own breath and he wonders if he's even breathing at all or if his chest is actually as paralyzed as it feels and maybe he's dead somehow.
The silence makes the white flash seem brighter, like it's chased all the sound away. Ryan has his mouth open in a look of surprise before the light eats away at that too and Brendon catches a glimpse of his dark eyes riveted on the jar before that's gone too.
His hearing returns before his sight, countless seconds later, and Brendon almost wishes for the unnatural silence because Ryan's screaming like someone's killing him. It doesn't just start up and Brendon knows he's been screaming for some time now and Brendon's walked into the middle of it. There's no rhythm and no end in sight- endless, pointless, painful screaming and Brendon cringes but at least he can hear his breathing underneath it.
He reaches out blindly and grabs whatever part of Ryan he can reach- his upper arm and then his thin wrist- and holds on tight. Ryan doesn't shake him off or even seem to notice but Brendon can hear an undercurrent in the screaming now, a hum of lower noise like a fly buzzing under the wailing of a siren. It takes him a few seconds to realize it's him, talking and soothing or maybe just trying to talk some sense back into Ryan, to get him to stop fucking screaming.
He tries to be gentle with Ryan but there's only an empty buzzing where his brain should be and Brendon almost laughs hysterically. He's heard of people following their hearts instead of their brains, but is it possible he traded in his mind for Ryan's heart?
He ends up shaking Ryan a little harder than he means to, pleading with him to stop.
Eventually, finally, after Ryan's screams have become hoarse and scratched, Brendon can hear thin gasps of breath between them. They're no less pained or afraid than the screams, but at least they're not as loud.
"Stop, okay, stop. I'm sorry, I'm sorry, okay, just stop," Brendon pleads, reining in the urge to shake him now that Ryan's starting to quiet down. The screams have become pained groans and as Brendon speaks, Ryan tries to tug his wrists away weakly. Brendon's fingers unhinge, let them go, and Ryan stumbles over his guitar, curls in on himself.
"You're going to be okay, it's okay." Brendon's hand hovers over the curve of Ryan's spine but he doesn't touch- he doesn't want to push, not yet. "You're okay."
Ryan groans shakily and it sounds for a second like he might throw up as he gasps for breath and shudders.
But when Brendon touches his back lightly, to comfort or calm, Ryan throws his hand off with a snarl inhuman enough to make Brendon recoil. "Don't," he grits out, teeth bared and Brendon draws his hand to his chest.
"Okay," he whispers but Ryan doesn't seem to hear him, hunched back over his chest and shivering.
Brendon breathes deeply, trying to control his own racing heart before he even attempts to soothe Ryan. Terror has Brendon's heart in an icy grip and he pants for breath, louder than Ryan's now-stifled gasps. But when his hand has steadied enough to reach out to Ryan, Brendon crouches a little, trying to catch Ryan's gaze for reassurance.
Ryan turns to look at him and glares with the force of a slap. Brendon feels himself fracture because-
Whatever Brendon had expected, whatever he'd prepared himself for, it wasn't this spectrum of pain and confusion and pure hatred, bottled into one look. There's hurt there but Ryan tips his head with just the right amount of bravery and pride and Brendon's heart aches not for Ryan but for himself because he's lost Ryan.
Looking at Ryan, who turns away with hissed breath, curled up in Brendon's covers, Brendon realizes that he's the first thing that Ryan's ever hated and his own heart...
Brendon doesn't believe in broken hearts anymore, not when he's seen apathy and people stripped entirely of their hearts, but that doesn't mean they don't exist.
*****
It seems wrong that the world can continue on around Brendon like normal. He has a math test the next day and he stares down at the paper in disbelief as pencils scribble and scratch at the desks around him.
He doesn't see Ryan for another week. He shows up at Decaydance one day to tell Pete how it went down and sees Ryan huddled against Pete behind the counter, tucked against his shoulder as Pete pets his hair and Brendon's heart sinks into his feet. He decides not to go in, watching them for a few pathetic seconds before moving on.
Jon's sympathetic and he passes on news from Pete occasionally about shipments they've gotten, how the regulars in the store are doing. Some of them are purely fabrication from Jon, Brendon knows, but he appreciates the effort and nods along.
Brendon can count the number of friends he has on two fingers: Jon, Patrick. That's enough for a peace sign, which is more meaningful than a high five but lonelier too. Then again, that's the way these things are supposed to go, isn't it? The right thing isn't easy.
"You did the right thing," he tells his bathroom mirror and his reflection mouths the words back to him.
He still really misses Pete. And Ryan, although Brendon feels like he doesn't have any right to that.
*****
His parents don't kick him out, at least. There's a bright side to everything, Brendon reminds himself bitterly as his mom searches his room, throwing out his box of contraband porn and weed, replacing improper reading materials and rated-R movies with large copies of the Book of Mormon and pictures of his family.
It could be worse, Brendon tells himself. His mom still can't look him in the eye and his dad barely speaks to him, but Brendon's seen this coming for a while now. At least he has a roof over his head for now, if not a place that he thinks of as home.
*****
The one good thing that comes out of this is Patrick's refusal to have his heart stored in a jar.
Brendon almost wishes that he was brave enough to walk into Decaydance just to see how Pete's handling it, because it's been two weeks since Brendon sold him Patrick's heart and Patrick still hasn't gone to the bookstore.
He tries to explain it to Brendon, because this is one side of heart-dealing that Brendon doesn't have much experience with.
"You know how the heartless person falls in love with the person that has their heart? Well, right now for me, that's this Pete-guy. It's how he gets them to come have their hearts put in those jars- they're so in love with him that they'll let him take their hearts and bottle them. And after that, no one has it, technically, and you're just emotionless and heartless."
Brendon smiles at Patrick. "So why haven't you gone to Pete's store yet?"
"Like I'm going to let some asshole demon bottle my heart," Patrick says with a snort. He dislikes Pete on principle, partly for running a heart-dealing business but mostly from the stories that Brendon's told. Brendon hadn't meant to make Pete out to be such a jerk, but it wasn't Brendon's fault if he came across that way.
Brendon admires Patrick's resistance and he figures that Pete must be going a little crazy wondering if Brendon somehow found a loophole.
And it must have really been driving Pete crazy because he notices Brendon lurking outside of Decaydance one day and actually motions him in. It's not too common an occurrence for Brendon to wait outside the bookstore but sometimes he can't help himself.
He has to resist the urge to inhale noticeably deeper when he walks into the store or to hug Pete. He holds his arms stiffly at his sides and Pete doesn't look entirely happy to see him but he doesn't look openly hostile either.
"So, did you find some way around the rules?" is the first thing Pete asks, like he's genuinely curious.
Brendon shakes his head and then shrugs. "I don't know- not that I know of."
Pete makes a thoughtful noise. "That heart belongs to a demon, you know," he says and Brendon nearly has an 'a-ha!' moment of triumph- he knew that Patrick was magical- until Pete adds, "the human that it belongs to is already property of a demon, I mean."
"Oh," Brendon replies, because what? The idea of Patrick being anybody's property doesn't work for Brendon and refuses to make sense in his head.
He tells Patrick what Pete said. Patrick frowns, thinks long and hard while Brendon watches him.
"I guess, maybe that would make sense," Patrick concedes finally. "That might explain why I could hear you talk about the hearts even though I'm not magical myself. That was demon magic preventing you from talking and maybe I'm immune to it?"
"And the heartless thing too," Brendon offers. "Like, not being in love with Pete. Maybe that's a side-effect too."
Patrick nods thoughtfully. "That would make sense, I guess." His brow furrows and it hits Brendon what a shock this must be for anyone to absorb. Patrick is seemingly handling it like a pro, although Brendon has to wonder how steadily he's holding together when he looks up with determination written on every feature.
"Take me to meet this guy," he says and Brendon immediately shakes his head.
"I thought that whole point was to avoid actually selling him your heart," Brendon says and Patrick shrugs.
"Yeah, maybe. But if I already... 'belong' to another demon, I'm not worried about what this one can do to me."
This is a bad, bad idea. Terrible, actually, if even Brendon can recognize how badly this will turn out. He tells Patrick this, tries to convince him of it, but Brendon's not the only one who's stubborn once he's got an idea in him. Patrick's unmovable.
When Brendon takes Patrick to Decaydance, it is with the warning that this was entirely against Brendon's will and that Patrick had practically forced him.
"I'll be okay," Patrick tells Brendon with a small smile in an attempt at being reassuring and Brendon makes a tiny nod back in response.
The door's bell chimes pleasantly when they walk in and Brendon gets to see Patrick witness Decaydance for the first time. Patrick's eyes go immediately to the ceiling and Brendon's follow pleasantly, amused at how impressed Patrick is despite himself.
Pete's sitting at the counter but he's looking right at Patrick, who hasn't yet managed to tear his eyes away from the skylight.
"You-" Pete breathes and Patrick blinks in surprise behind his glasses. Pete moves surprisingly quickly around the counter and he's in front of them in two seconds and Brendon's heart nearly stops. He hadn't considered that Pete might take Patrick's heart by force but-
Pete grabs Patrick in the tightest hug that Brendon's ever seen him give, face buried in Patrick's neck, who looks as shocked as Brendon feels. Pete gasps like a dying man and presses his mouth to Patrick's slack one forcefully, clutching his shoulders for support and seemingly trying to meld with Patrick, who eventually recovers his wits and pushes Pete away.
"What the hell," he says sharply and Pete blinks dazedly.
"I can't believe- you're-" Brendon's never seen Pete at a loss for words before and it's actually kind of frightening. Patrick doesn't seem to know what to think, although he's also never seen Pete before so this might not be as stunning as it is to Brendon.
"It's you," Pete says finally, like he's just uttered the meaning of life and death and nothing except for those two words matter, and something suddenly clicks in Brendon's brain.
"Pete," he breathes and it's Patrick instead that turns to look at Brendon like he's crazy, although there's something lurking and shifting in Patrick's expression, fighting to break though. "It's- it's him?"
"Excuse me?" Patrick says sharply, never a fan of being out of his element and apparently feeling more than a little confused. "It's who?"
"I brought him to you?" Brendon asks wonderingly, incredulously and. It makes sense, suddenly. The tag- Patrick wasn't just marked by any demon. He was marked by Pete.
"I have been waiting my entire life for you," Pete says and Brendon knows that there's no way that Patrick understands that, the full implication of it, but as he looks at Pete something in Patrick must wake up or realize what's happening or respond to the open, content look on Pete's face because a smile slowly blooms across Patrick's mouth.
*****
Even if Brendon's own life currently sucks, he's more than a little proud to have been the one to reunite Pete with his 'one and only'.
("Patrick," Pete says wonderingly. "I never would have guessed that would be his name now but- well, he's not the same person."
"Isn't that a problem though?" Brendon asks, watching Pete watch Patrick poke at one of the moving plants cautiously with a fond smile on his face.
"He's got the same heart," Pete replies calmly as Patrick swears loudly as the plant snaps at him. "He's not the same person at all, but he's still someone I can love and that's what matters.")
Brendon had been a bit wary of how Pete could justify being in a relationship with Patrick if he was going to have his heart under contract, but Pete had decided to quit heart-dealing on the spot.
"It was only ever a means to find him," Pete says with a shrug. "It was entertaining but I don't need it. And quitting dealing voids the rules, so there aren't any repercussions if I decide to just dissolve the contract on his heart." Pete grins at that and Brendon feels like he was right when he'd always thought that Pete was more fond of breaking and bending the rules than following them.
Patrick snorts. "Like you could have bottled my heart anyways," he retorts and then seems a little off-balance when Pete only smiles at him adoringly. He resists Pete's advances loudly and stubbornly but there must be some part of him that believes or recognizes that Pete's genuine; Patrick keeps showing back up at the store, defiantly without explanation and greeted with no questions from Pete. Brendon even thinks that maybe some part of Patrick is answering Pete's declaration of love, returning and reaffirming it underneath all of Patrick's token resistance.
Then again, maybe this whole thing has just brought out Brendon's optimistically romantic side. It shouldn't have. Brendon knows that love can be bought and sold and bottled- that should be enough to crush any notion of romanticism and idealistic love.
And still, the fact that the lives of two people can brush against each other and entangle, without magic at first and then creating something close enough to enchantment on its own, is all the proof that Brendon needs. He might not have rose-colored glasses but he can still see love painted over simple gestures and words.
Brendon's always been naive at heart. And somehow, someway, that hasn't been crushed into being jaded.
But with everything that Brendon's been through, or maybe after Brendon reunited him with Patrick, Pete seems to feel like he now owes Brendon something. Or maybe it's just that he can't stand seeing Brendon watch them with happy-sad eyes, wistful and jealous and hurt all at once. It's not Brendon's fault- he doesn't mean to stare at them like that, but as happy as he is, something squeezes in his chest until he can't breathe when he sees them together, Patrick slapping Pete's hand away from his hat and then leaning over his shoulder to look at a music box in Pete's lap with a look of poorly veiled wonder at both the object and Pete.
"It's depressing," Pete says, blunt in the way he is when he's too serious about something to try and hide it behind analogies and extended metaphors.
Brendon just shrugs with a small, helpless smile and Pete shakes his head.
Brendon doesn't avoid Decaydance anymore- with Patrick spending more and more time there, Brendon doesn't want to be entirely cut off from him and he provides a buffer if Ryan comes in. Somehow though, Brendon and Ryan manage to dance around each other, never running into each other at the store and visiting at different times without any official schedule.
It's not like Brendon's allowed to spend very much time there anyways though. He's grounded indefinitely and Brendon mostly tries to obey his curfew. He doesn't want to disturb his household even more than he already has, with the fault-lines dividing him from his parents ready to deepen with any underground tremors. There's no going back to the way things were before, Brendon knows and mostly accepts. Some evenings he lays on his back in his bed and imagines Ryan curled up next to him with an arm thrown over Brendon's waist and on entirely different nights he imagines his mom coming in after he's asleep and stroking his hair like she used to when she thought he'd fallen asleep.
*****
*
Brendon and Ryan are able to choreograph their lives to avoid each other, interacting only (and rarely) through secondhand accounts and stories. Pete's not a big enough asshole to talk about Ryan often in front of Brendon though; the first time he does after Brendon gave Ryan his heart back, Brendon feels his face freeze into a plasticky smile, his head nodding mechanically in time with the story. Pete notices quickly enough and from then on Brendon rarely hears news of Ryan.
Brendon's not sure if he wants to or not. No is what the overwhelmingly large portion of his brain answers, too stung and tender to even think about Ryan without hurt. And while the hurt is nothing like when Brendon has a bruise on his shin from running into the coffee table, he can't help but feel it cautiously for signs of healing or maybe for the perverse pleasure of the ache.
Actually seeing Ryan isn't as rare as hearing stories about him, surprisingly. That doesn't mean that they've spoken since the incident weeks ago, but occasionally Brendon will catch a glimpse of Ryan in the supermarket or will see him driving down the other side of the road. Not running into him in Pete's store is more of a conscious effort than Brendon would like to admit; when he sees Ryan already in Decaydance, Brendon goes past the shop like it was never his intention to stop by. He might pause for a second, arrested in a moment of surprise and pinned in place by the opportunity to see Ryan unguarded in a moment of laughter or thought, but he never reaches for the door separating them.
It's safer this way, Brendon knows. He took a risk already and now he's trying to live with the consequences and the knowledge that good intentions aren't always enough. Story of my life, Brendon thinks to himself.
But just because Brendon manages to avoid Ryan, even as their lives intersect and slide against one another, doesn't mean that he can purge his life entirely of his influence. Brendon tries actively not to think about Ryan (out of his own self-interest, admittedly, not out of any respect for boundaries) but he comes across things that remind him of Ryan far too easily. Brendon's frustrated with himself. How ridiculous is it that the most commonplace things, a bookmark, a particularly pretentious look on his teacher's face, an ugly newsboy cap, an article in the newspaper about thrift stores, can remind Brendon of Ryan's stubbornness, his tight-lipped anger and brief fits of enthusiasm and happiness.
There are more tangible reminders of Ryan too: one of Ryan's crumpled shirts abandoned under Brendon's bed after they'd been soaked by his neighbors' sprinklers, a homework assignment of Ryan's tucked in Brendon's history book from when they were lazily studying separate subjects in Brendon's room. Brendon had spent most of that night doodling in the margins of his book and sneaking looks at Ryan.
And harder to dismiss or ignore than all of these: Spencer Smith, who Brendon runs into at Blockbuster while he's picking out a movie for 'Cinema Night' with his family.
Brendon rounds the corner and then freezes, unsure of whether to dart back into the safety of the next aisle over or to stroll casually by like nothing's wrong. Spencer is looking at the two movies in his hands but glances up when Brendon hovers uncertainly at the end of the aisle. Their eyes meet and Brendon wishes a little that he could die and then wonders how horrible it would be if Ryan was there with Spencer. Horrible, he decides, but still looks for his skinny body hiding behind Spencer's.
But they're alone in the aisle and Brendon watches Spencer's face fuzz with momentary confusion before the instinctive welcoming smile is wiped away by firm aloofness. Brendon can feel his own lips stuck awkwardly together in a near-grimace as they face each other down in the Comedy aisle.
Brendon and Spencer had never been very close but Brendon's thought that Spencer was a cool dude from day one. Not as dramatic or intensely intriguing as Ryan, but easy to get along with and surprisingly funny. Brendon likes to think that they'd still have been friends if they'd met without Ryan as a mutual acquaintance although now he questions if they're going to come to blows in the middle of Blockbuster. The line of Spencer's neck is tense like he's holding himself back from something.
Brendon hasn't seen Spencer since he'd given Ryan's heart back and that had been something of a relief. But suddenly, Brendon's struck by the hope that maybe Spencer will come bearing good news and renewed friendship. He does his best to stamp that hope out as soon as it shows itself but Spencer does it far more effectively with one cold look that Brendon never would have imagined being on the receiving end of. Even when Brendon was a stranger accosting them in the supermarket, Spencer was cautiously friendly and mostly polite and this- this is hostile.
Brendon bobs his head up in a casual nod, deflecting any bad feelings and for a second he thinks that Spencer might pass without comment as he walks in Brendon's direction.
And it looks like Spencer was thinking that too, because he seems surprised by the words he throws out at Brendon as he pauses next to him. "What- what the hell Brendon." A second later he's pulling himself up, shoulders squared and back, and Brendon realizes that Spencer's a lot taller when he isn't slouching. Something seems to light inside of him; angry and flinty as opposed to the surprising beaming that Brendon's come to associate with Spencer. He leans forward into Brendon's space as if propelled by this sudden burst of anger and Brendon refuses to flinch away. "Why the hell would you do that to him?"
Brendon feels something like a wall come up around him, protecting him from whatever accusations Spencer might hurl at him. Maybe it's that Brendon's already asked himself these questions a hundred times over, but he doesn't feel the hurt where he thought he might, in his gut or right below his heart.
He still doesn't have a response though- nothing that he'll admit aloud, at least. It's a tacit understanding between Brendon and Pete, Brendon and Patrick, Brendon and Jon why he would give Ryan his heart back, but they have none of Spencer's best friend bias clouding their vision.
Spencer waits for a second but Brendon doesn't have an answer for him. He lifts one shoulder in a tense shrug.
"Fuck, Brendon," Spencer hisses out in a rush of breath. "Do you know how fucked up he's been the past few weeks?"
And that makes Brendon jerk back a little. It's not like Brendon's surprised, not after all of Pete's warnings about how ill-equipped Ryan is to handle the real world with real emotions. But there was some protection, some ability to avoid responsibility when he didn't have the actual evidence in front of him. Spencer's words aren't Ryan's pained glare but they're still an icy splash in his chest.
There's a sliver of satisfaction from Spencer at the spasm of shock he receives but no real malice and after a second he sighs noisily. "Tell me it was worth it or you regret it or that there was some reason, at least."
Brendon doesn't know if it was worth it. He's not so naive now to think that Ryan will throw himself at Brendon in gratitude and Brendon belatedly remembers Audrey's philosophy on obligated love. Whether this has benefited Ryan or not (Brendon ultimately thinks it will, but he's been wrong on more occasions recently than he can count), Brendon might never know.
"I regret it," he answers finally, although probably not for the reasons that Spencer probably wants to hear. Brendon's not dumb enough to specify though- not with Spencer in his best agitated, protective best-friend-form. Brendon regrets losing Ryan (and Spencer) and some of Pete and a little bit of Jon too. He regrets how it's impacted his own life but he doesn't know if he regrets its effect on Ryan.
"Yeah, me too," Spencer says with a frown. He stares at Brendon for a second, face tense like he might say something before shaking his head wearily. "He liked you a lot, you know."
Brendon shrugs uncomfortably. There's a bittersweetness to that- Brendon would have been thrilled to hear those words from Spencer a few weeks ago, out of past tense. Now it just settles into his stomach heavily. "I like him too."
"Yeah." Spencer eyes Brendon for a second. "You should stay away from him now," he says with an authority that Brendon isn't surprised by.
Brendon's brow raises and he puts his hands up in a defensive gesture- it's not like he's been trying to contact Ryan at all the past few weeks. They've avoided each other successfully, which Spencer probably knows since he looks down and away with an embarrassed huff. Some of the bullying tilt leaves his shoulders and Brendon somehow knows that there won't be anymore demands. He lets out a breath he didn't know he was holding in the bottom of his lungs.
Spencer looks more disappointed than anything. Brendon can handle the demands, the interrogation, but the second that Spencer looks like he misses Brendon, it's too much.
Brendon grabs the first movie he sees and pays without looking at anything. His parents don't complain and most of the movie is a blur anyways.
*****
Brendon played the scenario out in his head so many times over so many months that he almost laughs at how ironically unexpected it is when his parents sit him down for a talk.
Maybe it's that he thought he'd avoided the worst of it when his mother had discovered Ryan's heart. Her reaction had been... significant, but not nearly as dramatic as Brendon expected. He'd been tiptoeing around his parents for weeks now without really patching up the fractures in their relationships, like it might mend itself if left alone long enough, but he'd figured that he'd weathered the worst of the storm.
Brendon's pretty sure there's a slightly dazed look of amusement on his face as he sits on the floral couch in his living room, staring at his parents across the spotless coffee table. They're holding hands, clutching at each other for strength or support, and Brendon lays his own hands flat on his thighs. He looks at his nails, cut for piano or bitten short, and ignores the way his fingers are trembling. Something fluttery has taken up residence in his chest and it makes it hard to breathe normally.
"Brendon-" his mother starts and then clears her throat. Her voice sounds watery and Brendon determinedly does not look up.
There's a moment of silence until Brendon's dad picks up where his mom paused. "Son, your mother and I have been talking lately."
He lets that sink in for a second and Brendon nearly snorts because, yeah, he's heard them talking and he really should have been expecting this with the nervous looks he's been getting lately and the hushed conversations that start up the second he excuses himself from the dinner table. Instead he just stares at his hands, feeling stupid and stunned. The lack of reaction seems to be the go-ahead his dad needed.
"We've looked at your grades-" Brendon resists the urge to wince at that, because he really should have been expecting that, with the F he knows he's pulling in math and Spanish. "And talked about certain... events-" Brendon snorts quietly at that. "And we've decided that we can't give you the structured environment you obviously need right now."
There's another pause for gravity or maybe that's just the end of his dad's speech and Brendon finally looks up because he wonders if he's missing something. His mother is leaning forward, hanging onto every word and searching Brendon's gaze like it might hold some answer about what happened to her son. Brendon can only glance at her for a second; it's easier to look into his dad's stern face with its canyons and caverns of planning and righteousness and responsibility.
"We've found a place through the Church that takes in kids like you," his father continues eventually and Brendon feels his face change in dawning comprehension. "It's during the summer so you could finish up high school, but you need to buckle down and get your grades up until then."
Brendon blinks at them, open-mouthed in confused disbelief. "You're- you're sending me away?"
His mother looks away immediately, turning her face into his dad's shoulder and blinking rapidly as her face crumbles. For his part, Brendon's dad looks uncomfortable but firm. "Your mother and I have talked about this and we think it's best if you try this camp. You'll be away from home for a few months-" his mom makes a breathy little sobbing noise and Brendon stares at them both openly. "But it's for the best."
Brendon shakes his head slowly and then more firmly, rapidly, in denial. "No," he says simply and his father frowns.
"Son, this is difficult for us too."
"No," Brendon repeats, loudly, with sudden clarity if not confidence. "I won't."
His father looks slightly annoyed but he must have been expecting a fight because he barely moves an inch on the couch even as Brendon is hovering on the edge of his seat and bristling with defiance. "Brendon, you've obviously been interacting with questionable things and making some bad decisions. You need to get your life back on track- this isn't a choice."
There's always a choice, Brendon thinks, head clear and light.
"I'm leaving," he says and for a second his father looks victoriously surprised.
"Well, not right away," his father says. "But I'm glad you've warmed to the idea, at least."
"I'm leaving," Brendon repeats, trying to catch his mom's eye and failing. His dad's face falls a little in confusion and Brendon goes upstairs to throw whatever belongings he can fit into a duffel bag before his confusion can turn to realization.
*****
Pete doesn't look surprised when Brendon tells him he's been kicked out of his house. He nods and lets Brendon hold onto him as the sun sets and stains the wall of Decaydance a wine-red. Brendon stays the night in a cot in one of the rooms in the back and doesn't sleep.
The next day, Pete gets Brendon a job with his friend Gabe in Arizona.
*****
*
Brendon's not sure what he expects Gabe to be- he's met so few of Pete's friends that Gabe's a huge mystery.
"He's a cool dude," Pete assures him as Brendon helps close the shop for the last time. Brendon runs his fingers over the spines of the books, the dents in the counter and the slightly-rounded edges of the surface. He bends close to the shelf and Pete pretends not to notice when Brendon breathes in a little deeper than normal.
"Yeah?" Brendon asks finally, all too aware of the way his voice wavers and drifts into the high ceilings of Decaydance. Pete runs one hand over Brendon's shoulders and then up the back of his neck until he's ruffling Brendon's hair from behind.
"Yeah. You'll be good there," Pete says and his quiet voice is an attempt at being gentle, Brendon can tell. "I'm trying to store all my cool dudes in Phoenix, starting with you and Gabe. But you guys can't have Patrick- I've got him under lock and key here."
They both wait for Patrick's indignant noise from the back of the shop and he doesn't disappoint. Brendon doesn't look at Pete but he knows that his eyes are crinkling up fondly and Brendon sighs, feeling the sore lump in his chest rise with the movement.
It's not a matter of accepting the offer or not- Brendon doesn't really have any other choice. Jon had offered to put Brendon up in his apartment for a while and Brendon appreciated it but he can't burden Jon for long. And he really can't bear to be in Summerlin anymore. He's outgrown it, like trying on his old jacket for school in fall only to find that he's grown over a summer of short sleeves. It's been a long time coming but the change from hometown to prison feels more abrupt than Brendon expected.
Phoenix isn't something that Brendon would have seen coming, but he's just rolling with whatever life throws at him. He's got no other options and the offer drops so perfectly into his lap that Brendon doesn't take more than a second to think about the fact that he knows no one there, has no money, no high school diploma and no idea what he's getting himself into. He does know what he's leaving behind though and that's all that really matters.
*****
The day that Brendon leaves, Summerlin is bright and sunny. The sky is cotton-candy pink and Pete is wearing sunglasses.
Brendon hugs Jon first while Pete clings to Patrick. Jon puts his head on top of Brendon's and Brendon grabs tight onto the back of Jon's shirt, face pressed against his chest. Brendon doesn't cry and his eyes feel tight with the effort.
"I miss you," Brendon says and he hears Jon's laugh above his head as his chest jumps.
"Not yet you don't." Jon tries to inject some lightness in his voice. Any attempt at brevity is lost when he whispers, "I'm going to miss you too," into Brendon's hair.
Patrick, once he manages to shed Pete, holds himself stiffly like he's unsure of how to say goodbye, so Brendon makes the decision for him. He encloses Patrick in a hug and receives an attempted pat on the back.
He doesn't know what to tell Patrick and doesn't trust himself to speak around the lump in his throat, but Patrick just clasps the back of his neck for a second and then gives Brendon one final pat. "You'll be okay."
"We'll visit," Pete assures Brendon even as he's looking at Patrick, who is quick to nod. Brendon takes a second to swipe his arm over his arms and then squints into the rising sun like that is what's making his eyes sting. Pete gives Patrick one last hug and Brendon's surprised he doesn't try for a peck on the cheek until he realizes that they're being appropriately subdued for his sake and then it sinks in that he's leaving behind his entire life. It's not much, but it's everything he knows. And everything he loved too.
"Well," Brendon says weakly around the sore rock sitting in his throat. "Goodbye."
He watches his friends, his hometown, his old life, disappear in the rear view mirror and holds his hands in his lap like when he was a kid, going to church to worship a god he doesn't believe in anymore.
Pete turns on the radio and Summerlin fades in the noise.
(Part Eight)
Part Seven
Pete looks down at the signed contract with a mixture of disbelief and grim acceptance.
"None of that changed your mind, huh?" he asks and Brendon's not sure if he's talking about the arguments, the lectures or the tense days of silence between them.
"Not enough," Brendon replies stubbornly and Pete shakes his head wearily, all of the fight leaving his body in one breath.
When he lifts his head back up, his face is back in the business mode that reminds Brendon of his first few visits to Decaydance. There's no familiar warmth or teasing sparkle and Brendon's suddenly just another customer. For all the tension between he and Pete the past few weeks, the formality still washes over Brendon icily.
"You're probably not going to want to come to work for a while," Pete tells him in a matter-of-fact tone and Brendon blinks.
"What?" he asks, a hint of outrage in his voice that seems to slide off Pete ineffectually.
"Ryan's going to want to be here, maybe to yell at me for selling his heart or maybe to get out of his house for a while and away from things he doesn't know how to deal with. You're not going to want to be here."
Brendon swallows any protest that was forming, and the lump goes down his throat heavily. Eventually he nods in agreement and Pete turns away, walking briskly to the heart room.
Brendon follows and it's somehow eerily similar to his first visits to Decaydance and also not the same at all. This must be what it feels like to walk in knowing what you wanted, Brendon thinks as he grabs Ryan's heart. It's practically a blinding white now in his hands and Brendon is suddenly aware that this is probably the last he'll see of the other hearts. Brendon hadn't realized that buying Ryan's heart would sever his friendship with Pete, but it's looking entirely possible as this point. Pete locks the door behind him and ushers Brendon forward professionally.
"Give me the heart and then your hand," Pete instructs and Brendon wonders for a second how he's never seen this happen before in all the time he's been working here.
Pete draws a symbol on the palm of Brendon's hand, repeats the process on the heart and then presses the two together. A tickle runs through Brendon's palm and up his arm into his chest and he shivers at the sensation, but there's no little grin or reassuring word from Pete.
"Until you decide to give Ryan his heart, he'll be in love with you," Pete details in a detached voice that sounds nothing like him. "If you decide to give it back to him, open the lid. Don't do it in a public place or where anyone could walk in on it." For a second, Pete breaks his monotone character, looking something like pained. "Just don't be surprised if he doesn't end up thanking you endlessly."
"I don't care what he ends up thinking of me," Brendon lies. "I'm doing this for Ryan."
*****
Brendon walks around with Ryan's heart in his backpack, both a comforting weight and a condemning one.
There's no immediate lightning strike of change that Brendon notices- no clouds looming ominously, no sudden doom that befalls him- that might hint that anything's even happened.
When Brendon checks his phone an hour later though, there are two texts from Ryan, which is more in a row than Brendon's ever gotten from him. One says simply hey and the other want 2 hang? im at the park. Brendon looks down at his cell phone for a long minute and then closes it shakily.
Brendon plans on giving Ryan's heart back right away. He's worked up all of this momentum, all of this determination and righteousness in the face of Jon and Pete's doubt, and he's sure that he's prepared to give Ryan's heart back until it's actually sitting in his hands, swirling and warm. And then he puts it back in his backpack and leaves it sitting in his room when he goes to meet Ryan at the school's playground.
Ryan's already there, sitting at the bottom of the slide, and when he looks up at Brendon his eyes are bright in a way that they never are, even in his happiest, most unguarded moments. It should send Brendon's heart aflutter and instead he just feels nauseous.
"Hey Brendon," Ryan says as he scoots over to give him room to sit.
"Hey. What's up?" Brendon replies uneasily. Ryan doesn't seem to notice, blinking over at Brendon before glancing quickly at the sky.
He doesn't answer for a long while, which is so Ryan that Brendon relaxes for a second. "Nothing," he says eventually and Brendon nods in agreement and then jumps when Ryan puts his cold hand on the exposed skin on Brendon's back, right above his jeans.
"What the-" Brendon flinches away from the cold and Ryan pulls his hand back, looking confused.
"Sorry," he says in a bewildered tone. "I'm not sure- I don't know-"
"Hey, hey, it's cool," Brendon assures him. Ryan's rarely the one that initiates overt physical contact, but Brendon's willing to guess where this sudden touchiness is stemming from. "Just- cold hands," he offers lamely.
Ryan seems to accept that, tucking his hands under his arms as he huddles in on himself. "Sorry," he repeats and that alone tells Brendon how wrong this is.
"Don't worry about it," Brendon says weakly. He wants nothing more than to go home and leave behind this softer version of Ryan who looks at Brendon with big, hopeful eyes in the way that Brendon imagines he must look at Ryan too.
They sit in silence and Brendon's not sure if it's as comfortable as it usually is and Brendon's just adding meaning and tension into the gaps or if there's actually something sitting in the air between them. Ryan's face betrays nothing as he stares up at the slightly overcast sky, letting a cloud shadow both the sun and his face. And still, even if Ryan's the one who's supposed to be in love with Brendon, it's somehow Brendon that ends up staring like an idiot.
Brendon doesn't like this new version of Ryan, but it's harder than he thought to work up the courage to give him his heart. When the first day passes, Brendon tells himself that he just needs to get over the shock of actually buying the heart. And when that first day bleeds into three more and Ryan's heart is still sitting in Brendon's room under a pile of dirty laundry, Brendon tries to assure himself that he was just waiting for the right moment, somewhere safe from prying eyes. They hang out often (even if Ryan's still not what Brendon would consider clingy) and there are plenty of opportunities that Brendon knows he should seize and use to give Ryan back his heart.
Instead, Brendon waits. When's the perfect time to drop that sort of bombshell on someone? Brendon wonders and when he can't come up with an answer he figures it will present itself eventually.
In the mean time, Ryan's a little more flirtatious in an awkward way that Brendon finds both endearing and sad. It's a little bit like masochism when Brendon wonders if this was how Ryan had treated that blonde girl he'd been at the movies with weeks ago; getting caught staring, hooking an arm around her shoulders like he seems fond of doing to Brendon, humming happy little snatches of songs when they're together. And Brendon can't help but wonder if Ryan would have acted like this around Brendon from the beginning if he had his heart or if it's just because Brendon has it now.
Brendon gets so wrapped up in his own guesses and pondering and thoughts that when he and Ryan are sitting on the curb in the parking lot of a 7-11 and Ryan leans over and looks up at Brendon through his eyelashes, Brendon simply wonders if that was how he might have looked at Brendon one day if he'd always had his heart. Looked up at him with clear brown eyes like-
-like he wants to lean into Brendon's space, breath against his lips and then fit his mouth over Brendon's.
Brendon gasps into the kiss and he thanks whatever God is out there that Ryan doesn't mistake it for acceptance. Then again, Brendon shouldn't be surprised that Ryan might be lacking skill or experience or confidence in this area and he pulls away and can barely look at Ryan, who's blinking at him with a wounded look.
"I- I have to go," Brendon blurts out and doesn't even mind the embarrassed noise that Ryan makes. After all, this isn't Ryan in his right mind- he has nothing to be embarrassed about.
Brendon, on the other hand- he's going to pull the heart out the second he gets home and call Ryan to his house and give it to him. As much as he likes Ryan's attention, had liked pretending that this was something real, he knows it isn't. It's coerced, forced, and that wasn't really Ryan that pressed his lips clumsily against Brendon's, tasting like the cherry Slurpee they'd been sharing. And that makes Brendon feel sick to his stomach; he wipes at his mouth and it comes away red with food coloring.
He doesn't bother to wipe his feet off when he gets home. He stomps up the stairs and flings his bedroom door open, determined to follow through with this.
Instead, he finds his mom sitting stiffly on the edge of his bed, a splotch of black eye makeup rolling down her cheek.
Brendon's had time (too much time probably) to wonder what his mom's face would look like if she ever discovered his sins, his involvement with magic being the foremost, and how he would handle the resulting fallout.
But for all of his imagining and fantasizing and nightmares, he never could have put together the perfect composition of tears, brittle determination and sorrow, bundled together neatly by anger. There's disappointment too but the utter lack of shock is just as telling and Brendon's eyes flicker first to Ryan's heart in her lap and then to her gaze.
"Brendon-" she chokes on the words, on his name, and he flinches.
They face off, a few feet away and millions of miles further apart than either of them imagined, and his mom raises a hand to wipe at one eye.
"We'll talk about this when your father gets home," she says, voice empty. Brendon would prefer that she rage and shout- how dare he bring this into their house, didn't he know what this was, how evil, how sinful- but instead she drops Ryan's heart like it's contaminated and brushes past Brendon without touching him.
Brendon sits on his bed cautiously, focusing on breathing in through his nose and slowly out through his mouth because he's pretty sure that the little gasps that he's making will turn hysterical if he stops to think for too long about anything. He hears the garage door rumble and then his mom's car pulls out and when he's finally sure she's gone Brendon lets out a low noise of hurt and lets himself curl onto his side, nestled in the indent she left.
*****
It ends with a guitar.
Brendon composes himself as best as he can, as fast as he can, because he has no idea how long his mom will be gone or when his dad will be home and there's something he needs to do before then.
When Brendon asks Ryan to come over, Ryan responds to his text right away, telling Brendon that he'll be at his house in a few minutes and that he'll bring the guitar he got that he'd been meaning to show him. Brendon can hear an uncharacteristic eagerness through the text and he hesitates before deleting it.
Brendon wipes at his face with a towel, which clears up some of the wetness but none of the blotchy redness of his skin. He figures that Ryan really won't mind though- he's too in love with Brendon to notice now and then he'll probably be too busy doubled over in pain later to care how Brendon looks.
Ryan looks guarded when Brendon answers the door, but also shy and eager in a way that he hasn't been able to hide very well since Brendon bought his heart. Brendon immediately shushes any apologies for the kiss (another difference between this Ryan and the one that Brendon is used to- the apologies are not only existent but free) and pulls Ryan to his room, his guitar banging between them.
He can see Ryan's eyes light up and dance across various things before settling on the bed. Brendon nearly groans because a few days ago this would have been his dream come true. Instead, he grabs the heart and presses it into Ryan's hands.
"Here," Brendon says and Ryan looks at him for a second uncomprehendingly before realization dawns.
"My heart?" Ryan asks with a note of wonder and Brendon nods. Ryan drops his guitar with a twang and Brendon, in any other circumstance, would wince at the mistreatment. Ryan might too, if he wasn't literally holding his heart in his hands.
"It's yours," Brendon tells him and Ryan glances up with a look of such surprise that it almost makes this (losing his friendship with Pete, damaging his one with Jon, gambling Patrick's heart) worth it.
"Yeah?" Ryan breathes and for a second Brendon can believe that the smile on his face is genuine Ryan. He's looking down at the heart in his hands like it's the most precious thing he's ever seen and when he looks up at Brendon it's with pure joy and Brendon feels something wind in his chest.
And then Ryan's eyes lid half-shut and he leans forward, angled, and Brendon puts a hand on his chest and pushes him back gently.
"Don't," he says and Ryan jerks back a little and stares at Brendon with wide eyes.
And Brendon knows that as much as he likes this, the attention and the excitement and how easy it is to trick himself sometimes, this is unreal, lopsided affection. Ryan has enough sense to look abashed and sullenly embarrassed and Brendon's heart twists when he imagines what this look might mean from Ryan normally; upset that he's been denied anything and angry that he made himself vulnerable with no reward.
Brendon can't keep Ryan bottled up forever, hypnotized and tethered to him.
Brendon hugs Ryan to himself quickly, taking one last selfish moment for himself. He tucks his face into Ryan's neck and breathes in as he gathers courage.
And then the moment's over and Brendon's staring reality in the face. Its brown eyes stare back at him.
Brendon leans over, grabs the top of the jar. "Just, brace yourself," he warns and twists the lid off the jar.
The world's blown open in white.
The main thing that Brendon notices is a lack of noise. He expects something- a boom or a crackle or something, some sort of confirmation of what was happening.
But it's completely silent; the kind of silence that makes Brendon want to scream and shout just to check if he's gone deaf. When he opens his mouth though, no sound comes out even as he can feel his vocal cords straining with the scream he knows should be coming out. He can't hear his heart beating or his own breath and he wonders if he's even breathing at all or if his chest is actually as paralyzed as it feels and maybe he's dead somehow.
The silence makes the white flash seem brighter, like it's chased all the sound away. Ryan has his mouth open in a look of surprise before the light eats away at that too and Brendon catches a glimpse of his dark eyes riveted on the jar before that's gone too.
His hearing returns before his sight, countless seconds later, and Brendon almost wishes for the unnatural silence because Ryan's screaming like someone's killing him. It doesn't just start up and Brendon knows he's been screaming for some time now and Brendon's walked into the middle of it. There's no rhythm and no end in sight- endless, pointless, painful screaming and Brendon cringes but at least he can hear his breathing underneath it.
He reaches out blindly and grabs whatever part of Ryan he can reach- his upper arm and then his thin wrist- and holds on tight. Ryan doesn't shake him off or even seem to notice but Brendon can hear an undercurrent in the screaming now, a hum of lower noise like a fly buzzing under the wailing of a siren. It takes him a few seconds to realize it's him, talking and soothing or maybe just trying to talk some sense back into Ryan, to get him to stop fucking screaming.
He tries to be gentle with Ryan but there's only an empty buzzing where his brain should be and Brendon almost laughs hysterically. He's heard of people following their hearts instead of their brains, but is it possible he traded in his mind for Ryan's heart?
He ends up shaking Ryan a little harder than he means to, pleading with him to stop.
Eventually, finally, after Ryan's screams have become hoarse and scratched, Brendon can hear thin gasps of breath between them. They're no less pained or afraid than the screams, but at least they're not as loud.
"Stop, okay, stop. I'm sorry, I'm sorry, okay, just stop," Brendon pleads, reining in the urge to shake him now that Ryan's starting to quiet down. The screams have become pained groans and as Brendon speaks, Ryan tries to tug his wrists away weakly. Brendon's fingers unhinge, let them go, and Ryan stumbles over his guitar, curls in on himself.
"You're going to be okay, it's okay." Brendon's hand hovers over the curve of Ryan's spine but he doesn't touch- he doesn't want to push, not yet. "You're okay."
Ryan groans shakily and it sounds for a second like he might throw up as he gasps for breath and shudders.
But when Brendon touches his back lightly, to comfort or calm, Ryan throws his hand off with a snarl inhuman enough to make Brendon recoil. "Don't," he grits out, teeth bared and Brendon draws his hand to his chest.
"Okay," he whispers but Ryan doesn't seem to hear him, hunched back over his chest and shivering.
Brendon breathes deeply, trying to control his own racing heart before he even attempts to soothe Ryan. Terror has Brendon's heart in an icy grip and he pants for breath, louder than Ryan's now-stifled gasps. But when his hand has steadied enough to reach out to Ryan, Brendon crouches a little, trying to catch Ryan's gaze for reassurance.
Ryan turns to look at him and glares with the force of a slap. Brendon feels himself fracture because-
Whatever Brendon had expected, whatever he'd prepared himself for, it wasn't this spectrum of pain and confusion and pure hatred, bottled into one look. There's hurt there but Ryan tips his head with just the right amount of bravery and pride and Brendon's heart aches not for Ryan but for himself because he's lost Ryan.
Looking at Ryan, who turns away with hissed breath, curled up in Brendon's covers, Brendon realizes that he's the first thing that Ryan's ever hated and his own heart...
Brendon doesn't believe in broken hearts anymore, not when he's seen apathy and people stripped entirely of their hearts, but that doesn't mean they don't exist.
*****
It seems wrong that the world can continue on around Brendon like normal. He has a math test the next day and he stares down at the paper in disbelief as pencils scribble and scratch at the desks around him.
He doesn't see Ryan for another week. He shows up at Decaydance one day to tell Pete how it went down and sees Ryan huddled against Pete behind the counter, tucked against his shoulder as Pete pets his hair and Brendon's heart sinks into his feet. He decides not to go in, watching them for a few pathetic seconds before moving on.
Jon's sympathetic and he passes on news from Pete occasionally about shipments they've gotten, how the regulars in the store are doing. Some of them are purely fabrication from Jon, Brendon knows, but he appreciates the effort and nods along.
Brendon can count the number of friends he has on two fingers: Jon, Patrick. That's enough for a peace sign, which is more meaningful than a high five but lonelier too. Then again, that's the way these things are supposed to go, isn't it? The right thing isn't easy.
"You did the right thing," he tells his bathroom mirror and his reflection mouths the words back to him.
He still really misses Pete. And Ryan, although Brendon feels like he doesn't have any right to that.
*****
His parents don't kick him out, at least. There's a bright side to everything, Brendon reminds himself bitterly as his mom searches his room, throwing out his box of contraband porn and weed, replacing improper reading materials and rated-R movies with large copies of the Book of Mormon and pictures of his family.
It could be worse, Brendon tells himself. His mom still can't look him in the eye and his dad barely speaks to him, but Brendon's seen this coming for a while now. At least he has a roof over his head for now, if not a place that he thinks of as home.
*****
The one good thing that comes out of this is Patrick's refusal to have his heart stored in a jar.
Brendon almost wishes that he was brave enough to walk into Decaydance just to see how Pete's handling it, because it's been two weeks since Brendon sold him Patrick's heart and Patrick still hasn't gone to the bookstore.
He tries to explain it to Brendon, because this is one side of heart-dealing that Brendon doesn't have much experience with.
"You know how the heartless person falls in love with the person that has their heart? Well, right now for me, that's this Pete-guy. It's how he gets them to come have their hearts put in those jars- they're so in love with him that they'll let him take their hearts and bottle them. And after that, no one has it, technically, and you're just emotionless and heartless."
Brendon smiles at Patrick. "So why haven't you gone to Pete's store yet?"
"Like I'm going to let some asshole demon bottle my heart," Patrick says with a snort. He dislikes Pete on principle, partly for running a heart-dealing business but mostly from the stories that Brendon's told. Brendon hadn't meant to make Pete out to be such a jerk, but it wasn't Brendon's fault if he came across that way.
Brendon admires Patrick's resistance and he figures that Pete must be going a little crazy wondering if Brendon somehow found a loophole.
And it must have really been driving Pete crazy because he notices Brendon lurking outside of Decaydance one day and actually motions him in. It's not too common an occurrence for Brendon to wait outside the bookstore but sometimes he can't help himself.
He has to resist the urge to inhale noticeably deeper when he walks into the store or to hug Pete. He holds his arms stiffly at his sides and Pete doesn't look entirely happy to see him but he doesn't look openly hostile either.
"So, did you find some way around the rules?" is the first thing Pete asks, like he's genuinely curious.
Brendon shakes his head and then shrugs. "I don't know- not that I know of."
Pete makes a thoughtful noise. "That heart belongs to a demon, you know," he says and Brendon nearly has an 'a-ha!' moment of triumph- he knew that Patrick was magical- until Pete adds, "the human that it belongs to is already property of a demon, I mean."
"Oh," Brendon replies, because what? The idea of Patrick being anybody's property doesn't work for Brendon and refuses to make sense in his head.
He tells Patrick what Pete said. Patrick frowns, thinks long and hard while Brendon watches him.
"I guess, maybe that would make sense," Patrick concedes finally. "That might explain why I could hear you talk about the hearts even though I'm not magical myself. That was demon magic preventing you from talking and maybe I'm immune to it?"
"And the heartless thing too," Brendon offers. "Like, not being in love with Pete. Maybe that's a side-effect too."
Patrick nods thoughtfully. "That would make sense, I guess." His brow furrows and it hits Brendon what a shock this must be for anyone to absorb. Patrick is seemingly handling it like a pro, although Brendon has to wonder how steadily he's holding together when he looks up with determination written on every feature.
"Take me to meet this guy," he says and Brendon immediately shakes his head.
"I thought that whole point was to avoid actually selling him your heart," Brendon says and Patrick shrugs.
"Yeah, maybe. But if I already... 'belong' to another demon, I'm not worried about what this one can do to me."
This is a bad, bad idea. Terrible, actually, if even Brendon can recognize how badly this will turn out. He tells Patrick this, tries to convince him of it, but Brendon's not the only one who's stubborn once he's got an idea in him. Patrick's unmovable.
When Brendon takes Patrick to Decaydance, it is with the warning that this was entirely against Brendon's will and that Patrick had practically forced him.
"I'll be okay," Patrick tells Brendon with a small smile in an attempt at being reassuring and Brendon makes a tiny nod back in response.
The door's bell chimes pleasantly when they walk in and Brendon gets to see Patrick witness Decaydance for the first time. Patrick's eyes go immediately to the ceiling and Brendon's follow pleasantly, amused at how impressed Patrick is despite himself.
Pete's sitting at the counter but he's looking right at Patrick, who hasn't yet managed to tear his eyes away from the skylight.
"You-" Pete breathes and Patrick blinks in surprise behind his glasses. Pete moves surprisingly quickly around the counter and he's in front of them in two seconds and Brendon's heart nearly stops. He hadn't considered that Pete might take Patrick's heart by force but-
Pete grabs Patrick in the tightest hug that Brendon's ever seen him give, face buried in Patrick's neck, who looks as shocked as Brendon feels. Pete gasps like a dying man and presses his mouth to Patrick's slack one forcefully, clutching his shoulders for support and seemingly trying to meld with Patrick, who eventually recovers his wits and pushes Pete away.
"What the hell," he says sharply and Pete blinks dazedly.
"I can't believe- you're-" Brendon's never seen Pete at a loss for words before and it's actually kind of frightening. Patrick doesn't seem to know what to think, although he's also never seen Pete before so this might not be as stunning as it is to Brendon.
"It's you," Pete says finally, like he's just uttered the meaning of life and death and nothing except for those two words matter, and something suddenly clicks in Brendon's brain.
"Pete," he breathes and it's Patrick instead that turns to look at Brendon like he's crazy, although there's something lurking and shifting in Patrick's expression, fighting to break though. "It's- it's him?"
"Excuse me?" Patrick says sharply, never a fan of being out of his element and apparently feeling more than a little confused. "It's who?"
"I brought him to you?" Brendon asks wonderingly, incredulously and. It makes sense, suddenly. The tag- Patrick wasn't just marked by any demon. He was marked by Pete.
"I have been waiting my entire life for you," Pete says and Brendon knows that there's no way that Patrick understands that, the full implication of it, but as he looks at Pete something in Patrick must wake up or realize what's happening or respond to the open, content look on Pete's face because a smile slowly blooms across Patrick's mouth.
*****
Even if Brendon's own life currently sucks, he's more than a little proud to have been the one to reunite Pete with his 'one and only'.
("Patrick," Pete says wonderingly. "I never would have guessed that would be his name now but- well, he's not the same person."
"Isn't that a problem though?" Brendon asks, watching Pete watch Patrick poke at one of the moving plants cautiously with a fond smile on his face.
"He's got the same heart," Pete replies calmly as Patrick swears loudly as the plant snaps at him. "He's not the same person at all, but he's still someone I can love and that's what matters.")
Brendon had been a bit wary of how Pete could justify being in a relationship with Patrick if he was going to have his heart under contract, but Pete had decided to quit heart-dealing on the spot.
"It was only ever a means to find him," Pete says with a shrug. "It was entertaining but I don't need it. And quitting dealing voids the rules, so there aren't any repercussions if I decide to just dissolve the contract on his heart." Pete grins at that and Brendon feels like he was right when he'd always thought that Pete was more fond of breaking and bending the rules than following them.
Patrick snorts. "Like you could have bottled my heart anyways," he retorts and then seems a little off-balance when Pete only smiles at him adoringly. He resists Pete's advances loudly and stubbornly but there must be some part of him that believes or recognizes that Pete's genuine; Patrick keeps showing back up at the store, defiantly without explanation and greeted with no questions from Pete. Brendon even thinks that maybe some part of Patrick is answering Pete's declaration of love, returning and reaffirming it underneath all of Patrick's token resistance.
Then again, maybe this whole thing has just brought out Brendon's optimistically romantic side. It shouldn't have. Brendon knows that love can be bought and sold and bottled- that should be enough to crush any notion of romanticism and idealistic love.
And still, the fact that the lives of two people can brush against each other and entangle, without magic at first and then creating something close enough to enchantment on its own, is all the proof that Brendon needs. He might not have rose-colored glasses but he can still see love painted over simple gestures and words.
Brendon's always been naive at heart. And somehow, someway, that hasn't been crushed into being jaded.
But with everything that Brendon's been through, or maybe after Brendon reunited him with Patrick, Pete seems to feel like he now owes Brendon something. Or maybe it's just that he can't stand seeing Brendon watch them with happy-sad eyes, wistful and jealous and hurt all at once. It's not Brendon's fault- he doesn't mean to stare at them like that, but as happy as he is, something squeezes in his chest until he can't breathe when he sees them together, Patrick slapping Pete's hand away from his hat and then leaning over his shoulder to look at a music box in Pete's lap with a look of poorly veiled wonder at both the object and Pete.
"It's depressing," Pete says, blunt in the way he is when he's too serious about something to try and hide it behind analogies and extended metaphors.
Brendon just shrugs with a small, helpless smile and Pete shakes his head.
Brendon doesn't avoid Decaydance anymore- with Patrick spending more and more time there, Brendon doesn't want to be entirely cut off from him and he provides a buffer if Ryan comes in. Somehow though, Brendon and Ryan manage to dance around each other, never running into each other at the store and visiting at different times without any official schedule.
It's not like Brendon's allowed to spend very much time there anyways though. He's grounded indefinitely and Brendon mostly tries to obey his curfew. He doesn't want to disturb his household even more than he already has, with the fault-lines dividing him from his parents ready to deepen with any underground tremors. There's no going back to the way things were before, Brendon knows and mostly accepts. Some evenings he lays on his back in his bed and imagines Ryan curled up next to him with an arm thrown over Brendon's waist and on entirely different nights he imagines his mom coming in after he's asleep and stroking his hair like she used to when she thought he'd fallen asleep.
*****
*
Brendon and Ryan are able to choreograph their lives to avoid each other, interacting only (and rarely) through secondhand accounts and stories. Pete's not a big enough asshole to talk about Ryan often in front of Brendon though; the first time he does after Brendon gave Ryan his heart back, Brendon feels his face freeze into a plasticky smile, his head nodding mechanically in time with the story. Pete notices quickly enough and from then on Brendon rarely hears news of Ryan.
Brendon's not sure if he wants to or not. No is what the overwhelmingly large portion of his brain answers, too stung and tender to even think about Ryan without hurt. And while the hurt is nothing like when Brendon has a bruise on his shin from running into the coffee table, he can't help but feel it cautiously for signs of healing or maybe for the perverse pleasure of the ache.
Actually seeing Ryan isn't as rare as hearing stories about him, surprisingly. That doesn't mean that they've spoken since the incident weeks ago, but occasionally Brendon will catch a glimpse of Ryan in the supermarket or will see him driving down the other side of the road. Not running into him in Pete's store is more of a conscious effort than Brendon would like to admit; when he sees Ryan already in Decaydance, Brendon goes past the shop like it was never his intention to stop by. He might pause for a second, arrested in a moment of surprise and pinned in place by the opportunity to see Ryan unguarded in a moment of laughter or thought, but he never reaches for the door separating them.
It's safer this way, Brendon knows. He took a risk already and now he's trying to live with the consequences and the knowledge that good intentions aren't always enough. Story of my life, Brendon thinks to himself.
But just because Brendon manages to avoid Ryan, even as their lives intersect and slide against one another, doesn't mean that he can purge his life entirely of his influence. Brendon tries actively not to think about Ryan (out of his own self-interest, admittedly, not out of any respect for boundaries) but he comes across things that remind him of Ryan far too easily. Brendon's frustrated with himself. How ridiculous is it that the most commonplace things, a bookmark, a particularly pretentious look on his teacher's face, an ugly newsboy cap, an article in the newspaper about thrift stores, can remind Brendon of Ryan's stubbornness, his tight-lipped anger and brief fits of enthusiasm and happiness.
There are more tangible reminders of Ryan too: one of Ryan's crumpled shirts abandoned under Brendon's bed after they'd been soaked by his neighbors' sprinklers, a homework assignment of Ryan's tucked in Brendon's history book from when they were lazily studying separate subjects in Brendon's room. Brendon had spent most of that night doodling in the margins of his book and sneaking looks at Ryan.
And harder to dismiss or ignore than all of these: Spencer Smith, who Brendon runs into at Blockbuster while he's picking out a movie for 'Cinema Night' with his family.
Brendon rounds the corner and then freezes, unsure of whether to dart back into the safety of the next aisle over or to stroll casually by like nothing's wrong. Spencer is looking at the two movies in his hands but glances up when Brendon hovers uncertainly at the end of the aisle. Their eyes meet and Brendon wishes a little that he could die and then wonders how horrible it would be if Ryan was there with Spencer. Horrible, he decides, but still looks for his skinny body hiding behind Spencer's.
But they're alone in the aisle and Brendon watches Spencer's face fuzz with momentary confusion before the instinctive welcoming smile is wiped away by firm aloofness. Brendon can feel his own lips stuck awkwardly together in a near-grimace as they face each other down in the Comedy aisle.
Brendon and Spencer had never been very close but Brendon's thought that Spencer was a cool dude from day one. Not as dramatic or intensely intriguing as Ryan, but easy to get along with and surprisingly funny. Brendon likes to think that they'd still have been friends if they'd met without Ryan as a mutual acquaintance although now he questions if they're going to come to blows in the middle of Blockbuster. The line of Spencer's neck is tense like he's holding himself back from something.
Brendon hasn't seen Spencer since he'd given Ryan's heart back and that had been something of a relief. But suddenly, Brendon's struck by the hope that maybe Spencer will come bearing good news and renewed friendship. He does his best to stamp that hope out as soon as it shows itself but Spencer does it far more effectively with one cold look that Brendon never would have imagined being on the receiving end of. Even when Brendon was a stranger accosting them in the supermarket, Spencer was cautiously friendly and mostly polite and this- this is hostile.
Brendon bobs his head up in a casual nod, deflecting any bad feelings and for a second he thinks that Spencer might pass without comment as he walks in Brendon's direction.
And it looks like Spencer was thinking that too, because he seems surprised by the words he throws out at Brendon as he pauses next to him. "What- what the hell Brendon." A second later he's pulling himself up, shoulders squared and back, and Brendon realizes that Spencer's a lot taller when he isn't slouching. Something seems to light inside of him; angry and flinty as opposed to the surprising beaming that Brendon's come to associate with Spencer. He leans forward into Brendon's space as if propelled by this sudden burst of anger and Brendon refuses to flinch away. "Why the hell would you do that to him?"
Brendon feels something like a wall come up around him, protecting him from whatever accusations Spencer might hurl at him. Maybe it's that Brendon's already asked himself these questions a hundred times over, but he doesn't feel the hurt where he thought he might, in his gut or right below his heart.
He still doesn't have a response though- nothing that he'll admit aloud, at least. It's a tacit understanding between Brendon and Pete, Brendon and Patrick, Brendon and Jon why he would give Ryan his heart back, but they have none of Spencer's best friend bias clouding their vision.
Spencer waits for a second but Brendon doesn't have an answer for him. He lifts one shoulder in a tense shrug.
"Fuck, Brendon," Spencer hisses out in a rush of breath. "Do you know how fucked up he's been the past few weeks?"
And that makes Brendon jerk back a little. It's not like Brendon's surprised, not after all of Pete's warnings about how ill-equipped Ryan is to handle the real world with real emotions. But there was some protection, some ability to avoid responsibility when he didn't have the actual evidence in front of him. Spencer's words aren't Ryan's pained glare but they're still an icy splash in his chest.
There's a sliver of satisfaction from Spencer at the spasm of shock he receives but no real malice and after a second he sighs noisily. "Tell me it was worth it or you regret it or that there was some reason, at least."
Brendon doesn't know if it was worth it. He's not so naive now to think that Ryan will throw himself at Brendon in gratitude and Brendon belatedly remembers Audrey's philosophy on obligated love. Whether this has benefited Ryan or not (Brendon ultimately thinks it will, but he's been wrong on more occasions recently than he can count), Brendon might never know.
"I regret it," he answers finally, although probably not for the reasons that Spencer probably wants to hear. Brendon's not dumb enough to specify though- not with Spencer in his best agitated, protective best-friend-form. Brendon regrets losing Ryan (and Spencer) and some of Pete and a little bit of Jon too. He regrets how it's impacted his own life but he doesn't know if he regrets its effect on Ryan.
"Yeah, me too," Spencer says with a frown. He stares at Brendon for a second, face tense like he might say something before shaking his head wearily. "He liked you a lot, you know."
Brendon shrugs uncomfortably. There's a bittersweetness to that- Brendon would have been thrilled to hear those words from Spencer a few weeks ago, out of past tense. Now it just settles into his stomach heavily. "I like him too."
"Yeah." Spencer eyes Brendon for a second. "You should stay away from him now," he says with an authority that Brendon isn't surprised by.
Brendon's brow raises and he puts his hands up in a defensive gesture- it's not like he's been trying to contact Ryan at all the past few weeks. They've avoided each other successfully, which Spencer probably knows since he looks down and away with an embarrassed huff. Some of the bullying tilt leaves his shoulders and Brendon somehow knows that there won't be anymore demands. He lets out a breath he didn't know he was holding in the bottom of his lungs.
Spencer looks more disappointed than anything. Brendon can handle the demands, the interrogation, but the second that Spencer looks like he misses Brendon, it's too much.
Brendon grabs the first movie he sees and pays without looking at anything. His parents don't complain and most of the movie is a blur anyways.
*****
Brendon played the scenario out in his head so many times over so many months that he almost laughs at how ironically unexpected it is when his parents sit him down for a talk.
Maybe it's that he thought he'd avoided the worst of it when his mother had discovered Ryan's heart. Her reaction had been... significant, but not nearly as dramatic as Brendon expected. He'd been tiptoeing around his parents for weeks now without really patching up the fractures in their relationships, like it might mend itself if left alone long enough, but he'd figured that he'd weathered the worst of the storm.
Brendon's pretty sure there's a slightly dazed look of amusement on his face as he sits on the floral couch in his living room, staring at his parents across the spotless coffee table. They're holding hands, clutching at each other for strength or support, and Brendon lays his own hands flat on his thighs. He looks at his nails, cut for piano or bitten short, and ignores the way his fingers are trembling. Something fluttery has taken up residence in his chest and it makes it hard to breathe normally.
"Brendon-" his mother starts and then clears her throat. Her voice sounds watery and Brendon determinedly does not look up.
There's a moment of silence until Brendon's dad picks up where his mom paused. "Son, your mother and I have been talking lately."
He lets that sink in for a second and Brendon nearly snorts because, yeah, he's heard them talking and he really should have been expecting this with the nervous looks he's been getting lately and the hushed conversations that start up the second he excuses himself from the dinner table. Instead he just stares at his hands, feeling stupid and stunned. The lack of reaction seems to be the go-ahead his dad needed.
"We've looked at your grades-" Brendon resists the urge to wince at that, because he really should have been expecting that, with the F he knows he's pulling in math and Spanish. "And talked about certain... events-" Brendon snorts quietly at that. "And we've decided that we can't give you the structured environment you obviously need right now."
There's another pause for gravity or maybe that's just the end of his dad's speech and Brendon finally looks up because he wonders if he's missing something. His mother is leaning forward, hanging onto every word and searching Brendon's gaze like it might hold some answer about what happened to her son. Brendon can only glance at her for a second; it's easier to look into his dad's stern face with its canyons and caverns of planning and righteousness and responsibility.
"We've found a place through the Church that takes in kids like you," his father continues eventually and Brendon feels his face change in dawning comprehension. "It's during the summer so you could finish up high school, but you need to buckle down and get your grades up until then."
Brendon blinks at them, open-mouthed in confused disbelief. "You're- you're sending me away?"
His mother looks away immediately, turning her face into his dad's shoulder and blinking rapidly as her face crumbles. For his part, Brendon's dad looks uncomfortable but firm. "Your mother and I have talked about this and we think it's best if you try this camp. You'll be away from home for a few months-" his mom makes a breathy little sobbing noise and Brendon stares at them both openly. "But it's for the best."
Brendon shakes his head slowly and then more firmly, rapidly, in denial. "No," he says simply and his father frowns.
"Son, this is difficult for us too."
"No," Brendon repeats, loudly, with sudden clarity if not confidence. "I won't."
His father looks slightly annoyed but he must have been expecting a fight because he barely moves an inch on the couch even as Brendon is hovering on the edge of his seat and bristling with defiance. "Brendon, you've obviously been interacting with questionable things and making some bad decisions. You need to get your life back on track- this isn't a choice."
There's always a choice, Brendon thinks, head clear and light.
"I'm leaving," he says and for a second his father looks victoriously surprised.
"Well, not right away," his father says. "But I'm glad you've warmed to the idea, at least."
"I'm leaving," Brendon repeats, trying to catch his mom's eye and failing. His dad's face falls a little in confusion and Brendon goes upstairs to throw whatever belongings he can fit into a duffel bag before his confusion can turn to realization.
*****
Pete doesn't look surprised when Brendon tells him he's been kicked out of his house. He nods and lets Brendon hold onto him as the sun sets and stains the wall of Decaydance a wine-red. Brendon stays the night in a cot in one of the rooms in the back and doesn't sleep.
The next day, Pete gets Brendon a job with his friend Gabe in Arizona.
*****
*
Brendon's not sure what he expects Gabe to be- he's met so few of Pete's friends that Gabe's a huge mystery.
"He's a cool dude," Pete assures him as Brendon helps close the shop for the last time. Brendon runs his fingers over the spines of the books, the dents in the counter and the slightly-rounded edges of the surface. He bends close to the shelf and Pete pretends not to notice when Brendon breathes in a little deeper than normal.
"Yeah?" Brendon asks finally, all too aware of the way his voice wavers and drifts into the high ceilings of Decaydance. Pete runs one hand over Brendon's shoulders and then up the back of his neck until he's ruffling Brendon's hair from behind.
"Yeah. You'll be good there," Pete says and his quiet voice is an attempt at being gentle, Brendon can tell. "I'm trying to store all my cool dudes in Phoenix, starting with you and Gabe. But you guys can't have Patrick- I've got him under lock and key here."
They both wait for Patrick's indignant noise from the back of the shop and he doesn't disappoint. Brendon doesn't look at Pete but he knows that his eyes are crinkling up fondly and Brendon sighs, feeling the sore lump in his chest rise with the movement.
It's not a matter of accepting the offer or not- Brendon doesn't really have any other choice. Jon had offered to put Brendon up in his apartment for a while and Brendon appreciated it but he can't burden Jon for long. And he really can't bear to be in Summerlin anymore. He's outgrown it, like trying on his old jacket for school in fall only to find that he's grown over a summer of short sleeves. It's been a long time coming but the change from hometown to prison feels more abrupt than Brendon expected.
Phoenix isn't something that Brendon would have seen coming, but he's just rolling with whatever life throws at him. He's got no other options and the offer drops so perfectly into his lap that Brendon doesn't take more than a second to think about the fact that he knows no one there, has no money, no high school diploma and no idea what he's getting himself into. He does know what he's leaving behind though and that's all that really matters.
*****
The day that Brendon leaves, Summerlin is bright and sunny. The sky is cotton-candy pink and Pete is wearing sunglasses.
Brendon hugs Jon first while Pete clings to Patrick. Jon puts his head on top of Brendon's and Brendon grabs tight onto the back of Jon's shirt, face pressed against his chest. Brendon doesn't cry and his eyes feel tight with the effort.
"I miss you," Brendon says and he hears Jon's laugh above his head as his chest jumps.
"Not yet you don't." Jon tries to inject some lightness in his voice. Any attempt at brevity is lost when he whispers, "I'm going to miss you too," into Brendon's hair.
Patrick, once he manages to shed Pete, holds himself stiffly like he's unsure of how to say goodbye, so Brendon makes the decision for him. He encloses Patrick in a hug and receives an attempted pat on the back.
He doesn't know what to tell Patrick and doesn't trust himself to speak around the lump in his throat, but Patrick just clasps the back of his neck for a second and then gives Brendon one final pat. "You'll be okay."
"We'll visit," Pete assures Brendon even as he's looking at Patrick, who is quick to nod. Brendon takes a second to swipe his arm over his arms and then squints into the rising sun like that is what's making his eyes sting. Pete gives Patrick one last hug and Brendon's surprised he doesn't try for a peck on the cheek until he realizes that they're being appropriately subdued for his sake and then it sinks in that he's leaving behind his entire life. It's not much, but it's everything he knows. And everything he loved too.
"Well," Brendon says weakly around the sore rock sitting in his throat. "Goodbye."
He watches his friends, his hometown, his old life, disappear in the rear view mirror and holds his hands in his lap like when he was a kid, going to church to worship a god he doesn't believe in anymore.
Pete turns on the radio and Summerlin fades in the noise.
(Part Eight)