Fic: A Tick Of The Clock (We Will Never Be The Same)
First off, was Ryan crazy on Twitter last night or what?!
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Title: A Tick Of The Clock (We Will Never Be The Same)
Word Count: ~3,500
Summary: Spencer, Ryan and Jon are one of the National Geographic's best traveling documentary-making teams. They're staying in Mexico City and there's something Ryan finds very attractive about the boy behind the counter at the hotel, even though there shouldn't be. Ryan is determinedly straight this year. Still, if it's meant to be… (Brendon/Ryan) (A smidge of Spencer/Jon)
Warning: Most self-indulgent clichéd piece of bullshit I've ever written. It did turn out pretty good, regardless.
Author's Notes: To give credit where credit is due, the ( )'s belong to the Smashing Pumpkins, from their song Tonight Tonight.
As I was writing this, I realized how clichéd and schmoopy and stupid it sounded, and I wasn't even sure if I was going to post it, but here I am, doing it anyways. Spencer's Spanish freak-out was an idea I stole from panicatthecobra, who beta'd and read it to me, like always. The lyrics at the end belong to me (even though they might be kind of lame?). Enjoy!
A Tick Of The Clock:
(We Will Never Be The Same)
This time Spencer, Ryan and Jon are headed to some small village just outside of Mexico City. They're doing a documentary on the schooling system down there; about how they have little-to-no equipment, yet no one goes illiterate. It's something truly amazing, apparently. From the small briefing they'd gotten, it should be an interesting trip.
They're leaving from Chicago in the dead of night, because those flights are just cheaper for the head-honchos in the National Geographic offices to book for them, and Keltie comes to see Ryan off. Their relationship is getting stronger; Ryan hasn't…strayed in a while. Ryan's confident about where they are now, thinking maybe it's true love and all that bullshit.
Ryan's hoping that a month in rural Mexico won't change that.
*
Spencer is their show's host. Spencer's the host of their team, group, whatever it's preferred to be called, but either way, Spencer is the one of them who is fluent in both Spanish and French. Jon dabbles somewhat into Spanish, enough to hold a basic conversation, but Ryan? Ryan sucks and speaks absolutely nothing. He tends to avoid the natives wherever they go anyways, as it's not his field, so it doesn't really matter.
Ryan's pretty sure, though, that Spencer didn't go to college and train in foreign affairs so he could bitch out the front-desk attendant at some hotel in Mexico City. Still, it's pretty fucking hilarious watching Spencer start by calmly asking the attendant about their reservation and then slowly get more and more frustrated.
Also, it's even more hilarious when you don't know what he's talking about.
Beside Ryan, a few paces behind Spencer and his gesticulations, Jon's digging his video camera out of his bag. He poses it on his shoulder and turns it on. It takes Ryan a moment, but then he realizes that Jon's recording Spencer's rant with a wicked smile on his face.
Ryan narrows his eyes at Jon and whispers, "Don't waste all our film the first day we're here. I don't feel like having to run out and get some already."
Ryan's the fucking core of their team. He often gets called an errand boy by on-lookers, but Ryan's kind of the one that holds them all together. Ryan coordinates the schedules, makes sure that Spencer takes time away from his work to actually eat and sleep, because sometimes he gets way too immersed, too attached to want to stop, and Ryan makes sure Spencer lets Jon rest too; basically anything that needs to be done to keep the team fully functioning, keep it a well-oiled machine, Ryan's all over it.
Spencer's past bitching now. He's into handflapping gestures and sharp looks. His tone is heated and dark, a mood that Ryan can recognize even in Spanish. He closes the few steps between them and drops his hand onto Spencer's shoulder. "Chill out, Spence. Whatever it is," he says.
"Yeah. Yeah, I should." Spencer visibly deflates, blowing out a big burst of air. "There's something fucked-up with our registration and they say that they don't have a room for us."
The guy behind the counter looks up from the computer screen he was slaving over. His bottom lip is sucked in between his teeth in concentration and there's something very appealing about this stranger in Ryan's eyes. Even though there shouldn't be. Ryan is determinedly straight this year.
Hunching over onto his elbows, the guy says to Spencer mostly, "I speak English too. I should've recognized your accent, but I'm so used to people just not speaking English. Comes with the job, ya know." He shrugs and smiles.
"So," Spencer says, using his patented 'I'm going to very patient with you right now' voice, "are you going to fix our problem or what?"
The guy laughs. "Already taken care of, Mr. Smith." He slides three room keys across the counter, grinning. "Room 403. Enjoy your stay!"
"Yeah, I'm sure we will," Spencer grumbles, hitching his backpack up his one shoulder.
*
Three days go by and every time they walk into the hotel to go up to their room on the fourth floor, the same guy is at the counter and he beams and waves at them when they pass. They all politely pop their hands up back at him when they amble by.
The fourth day, they discover that Ryan is either stupid or losing his organizational skills. They get all the way up to their floor and figure out that Ryan had managed to simultaneously leave every room key…in their room. Which is why Ryan is now headed back down the elevator to ask someone to make them a new key.
The same guy from their check-in is still manning the front-desk when Ryan gets down there. Ryan asks him if he'll scan another key for their room, and the guy doesn't hesitate a beat, saying, "Of course, sure, come in the back and I'll make on up for you."
Somehow 'I'll get you a keycard,' turns into frantic making-out and Ryan's zipper going down. There's a blowjob and a halfhearted return favor of a handjob, and Ryan doesn't even know the attendant's name. He knows what the guy looks like when he comes but he doesn't even know his fucking name.
Ryan got his room key though.
*
The first time was really legitimately on accident, but for the rest of the week, Ryan just purposefully forgets to grab a keycard when they're leaving the room. He knows it's probably suspicious, since he really is supposed to be the organized one, and always is, but he doesn't care, even though he should. He just goes down every day and gets them a new room key, which is starting to get just a little bit ridiculous; they've got this accumulating stack of plastic like two inches high now.
Though, the morning after the seventh day of "forgetting" and of Ryan coming back with mussed hair and a distinctive bright spot in his eyes, Spencer takes their stack of keys, looks at Ryan pointedly, and drops them all into his backpack with a sharp tilt of his hand.
They get back that night and go on about their normal business. Spencer and Jon go off in one corner of the room to evaluate the tapings from their day. Once Ryan gets finished filling out some mindless paperwork and making sure they all have all their necessities, he announces that he's going for a walk and pretends that he doesn't notice the way Spencer pops his head up, eyebrow quirked.
When Ryan gets down to the front desk, the attendant is switching shifts. He's shrugging into his jacket and he smiles radiantly when he sees Ryan coming. He says, "Oh, hey. Do you need another…key?" He says 'key' slowly, drawn-out, with a waggle of his eyebrows. "Because, I just got off work, so. Um, do you want to come back to my place with me? Maybe get more than a…key. Y'know." He smiles. "Hypothetically speaking."
Ryan says somewhat fondly, "Yes, I know you meant hypothetically, you dipshit. First, what the fuck is your name?"
"Hypothetically," Ryan adds, for good measure.
The guy's eyes fucking start twinkling. Ryan's finds it ridiculously attractive, even though it's like dorky hero-worship induced. "You can call me Brendon, but like, for real. Not hypothetically at all. You?"
"Ryan. Also for real. Nice to meet you," Ryan says deadpan, narrowing his eyes.
There's a silence and then Brendon says, "So. My place?" and Ryan just nods.
*
Ryan slips back into their hotel room at some time in the early morning hours, around three or four; it's dark. He knows that. He also knows it's going to epic suck come morning to have to get up and be out and about all day, but it's a sacrifice he was willing to make and hopes he can make multiple more times before they leave Mexico. Brendon's a great fuck.
Spencer's always the first awake, which makes no sense, because, if anything, Ryan should be the insomniac, but he's not and Spencer's just an early riser. He's able to function well on such small amounts of sleep that make Ryan jealous and also remind him of why Spencer's so good at what he does and why he's able to be so dedicated.
Ryan knows that Spencer knows, maybe not specifically who, but the general concept of what's going on, Spencer knows. Spencer's, of course, not going to say anything to him about it, but Ryan can feel the disdain strangling the air surrounding them.
Cheating's a disgusting habit. Ryan knows that it is, but Ryan's a creature of habit above all else.
*
Ryan and Brendon sleep together at Brendon's place for about week. The team has two weeks left in Mexico.
It's midday and they're in town like they are every day, and they're walking down the road, back towards the school grounds, just coming back from the lunch break Ryan forced upon Spencer, when Ryan spots Brendon walking out of the nearest of the three school shacks. He's wearing these cherry fucking red glasses, and he's wrestling with trying to get a binder into his messenger bag. Brendon drops the binder and papers scatter everywhere.
Ryan doesn't have a second thought about just going over and helping Brendon to pick them up. When Ryan kneels down beside him, first Brendon looks confused, and then he blushes and ducks his head back down, hastily grabbing at his papers. Ryan manages to help with a few before Brendon scrambles them all up. They're pages and pages of sheet music, some handwritten.
Ryan doesn't say a word to Brendon and Brendon doesn't say a word back. Ryan stands back up and just returns to Spencer and Jon, pretending not to notice the look Spencer is sending him.
*
Ryan catches Brendon coming off of work that night, just like every one before it. They walk to Brendon's in silence, none of Brendon's casual babbling.
Finally Ryan gets up the nerve to just fucking ask, "What were you doing at the school in Hoboken-Nowhere today?"
Brendon makes a face. "Isn't Hoboken a place in New Jersey?"
Ryan just stares at him vacuously and Brendon answers, "It's just a thing I do on the side. The hotel pays well, of course, but…I don't know. I've always had this ridiculous dream of being a musician, like, I don't know, a fucking rockstar, but it's a stupid hope, y'know? I figure teaching music's good enough, right?"
It sounds like Brendon's trying to convince himself more than he is Ryan. Ryan dismisses it. He doesn't really know what to say. Instead he changes the topic, saying, "Why are you even living in Mexico anyways? You're obviously not native."
"Do you really want to know?" Brendon asks quietly. He's looking at the ground passing beneath his sneakers.
Ryan nods. "Yeah, I really do."
Brendon lets out a puff of air. He shrugs like he doesn't know what to say. "I was raised a Mormon and got sent here on my mission. That's how I learned Spanish, through the program. One day, I just. Ran away from the mission house and never went back. I haven't gone back to the States since. I can't, I don't know what I'd do with myself except try and make it in the music world, which is just…" Brendon trails off, laughing at himself. It's not a nice sound; it's a harsh and cutting chuckle. "I've found my spot here, you know?"
"Yeah," Ryan says, even though he really doesn't.
*
Another week of sleeping around passes and Ryan's got a week before he goes back to Chicago. He's fully planning on going back to Chicago with Jon and Spencer. Ryan's got a week before he goes back to Chicago and that's what he tells Brendon, hoping Brendon'll receive all the hidden messages. "I've got a week before I go back," he says.
Beside him, Ryan can hear Brendon's measured breaths.
Brendon's pretending to be asleep and they both know it.
*
The next morning, Keltie calls. She's usually been calling during the day, Ryan fitting her in between juggling ten other things with production.
Keltie says, "Hey," wispily and sweet; a way that makes Ryan's heart twist looking at Brendon tucked up into him.
Ryan and Keltie exchange pleasantries and then they talk about Ryan, Spencer and Jon's return home for a bit. When Ryan hangs up, he knows that Brendon's awake. Knows that he has been.
Brendon says, "That was your girlfriend." It's a statement, not a question.
"Yeah," Ryan whispers. Brendon untwines their legs and bodies and goes into the bathroom.
Ryan takes the invitation, dresses and leaves.
*
For the next five days, Ryan doesn't see Brendon at all. He's not working the front-desk when they come through, and Ryan doesn't see him coming out of the school that week, even though Ryan's sure he's been there. Ryan figures it's probably for the best.
The day before they're supposed to leave, the children, parents and the three wonderful teachers throw them a party and even though Spencer - and sort of Jon? - is the only one who knows what the banners say and what the teachers say in their speeches, Ryan smiles at everyone who smiles at him though. He's a fucking good actor.
The festivities are spread out between the three school shacks, and Ryan mingles between things, emotionally fucked and not wanting to talk to anyone (Spencer) in English at the moment. As Ryan approaches the last building, the one closest to the road, he hears music pouring out of it.
He knows that it's Brendon. He knows that it'd just be better to just leave and put the whole thing behind him. It'd be easier to just start forgetting before he even leaves, but he just can't let this go. He can't.
Ryan stands in the doorway, leaning against the frame, with his hands in his pockets for a long time. He listens to Brendon play on the little wooden piano pushed against the far wall. He's reading off of a page that's handwritten and been scribbled all over. Ryan looks at the messy penmarks and his organizer gene makes him think that Brendon should've used a pencil.
Brendon's really into whatever he's playing. He sways with the music, bouncing on certain beats, fingers flying across the keys flawlessly. Brendon's really, really good and frankly, Ryan's not surprised.
After listening to Brendon stop and then restart the song, Ryan announces, "Niether of us is ready to let this go."
Brendon stops with a jolt at the sound of Ryan's voice. He slides his hands back and sets them in his lap, turning slowly on the bench to face Ryan. He says, strained and too careful, "We need to though."
"Brendon. Just. I don't know. Come back to Chicago with me," Ryan tries, feeling frustrated and helpless and wanting.
Brendon shakes his head, fierceness in his eyes. "You have a girlfriend. I don't want…I don't want to be the one to ruin that for you. And I don't want-I can't leave here. The kids, who else will they get…?" he trails off. It's a lame excuse and they both know it.
Ryan closes his eyes and reopens them slowly, pinching the bridge of his nose, desperate. "Look. I've cheated on her before, okay? She's going to find out and it's going to end. I'd rather have it end and be with you."
"Than what?" Brendon stands up. "Than have it end and just be miserable? If I come back with you, I'll be miserable. We have different lives, Ryan. Just. Just make it easy and go back where you came from and forget about me. What happened in Mexico can stay in Mexico."
Ryan says, "Isn't that supposed to be Vegas?"
Brendon's expression goes blank and he just stares at Ryan. "It can be anything." He sighs. "Stop making this harder than it has to be, Ryan. Just. Go. Please."
Ryan turns and walks a step, but then turns back around. "This has felt more real than…anything I've ever had. What am I supposed to do if I think I love you?"
Brendon just looks at him for a long time. Ryan can hear the in- and out-take of their breaths, synced. Finally Brendon fixes Ryan with an intent look and just says, "If it's meant to be."
"What the fucking hell is that supposed to mean?" Ryan snaps.
Brendon stares at the floor. "My mom. She always said to me, 'If it's meant to be, it'll happen.'" He looks up then and says, "If it's not. Then. I'll miss you, Ryan." Brendon pushes past Ryan then, and walks out the door, leaving his things behind. Ryan figures he'll come back for them later, but for the moment, Ryan watches Brendon walk down the road into town, hands tucked into his pockets, straight into the sun and Mexico heat.
*
Epilouge:
(And Our Lives Are Forever Changed)
Upon returning home to Chicago, something about Brendon had stricken Ryan into gaining a conscience, or something. He really thinks he's going to make a concerted effort to stay with Keltie, that's what he tells himself the whole plane ride home, but when they get back to apartment and it's Keltie's skin beneath his fingers and not Brendon's, Ryan just can't handle the itch of guilt set in his body. He confesses and while Keltie sort of admires his honesty, she ends it.
Ryan's not surprised, maybe a little heartbroken, but he's sure he'll suffice.
When the documentary airs, the little unknown village in Mexico suddenly gets tons of attention from all these different people, and tons of money gets shipped down to the school, allowing the little village to grow. Other than that, Ryan doesn't hear much about the school or, more specifically, about their music teacher.
Three years pass by like a blink of gray. Ryan doesn't date anyone exclusively. He sleeps around a little bit the first year; boys with dark hair and chocolate eyes and rosy bottom lips, but no knock-off is ever as good as the original, Ryan knows this.
The next two years Ryan doesn't really leave his apartment except to go on trips with Jon and Spencer - he may be broken, but he's not fucking useless. The team's the only thing that really pulls him through. Ryan tries his hardest to hang out with Spencer and Jon on a level that's more than professional like they used to, and does when Spencer forces himself upon Ryan - he claims it his duty as best friend to pull Ryan out of his emo - but it gets awkward in the second year when Spencer and Jon suddenly become something exclusive. Or maybe it wasn't too sudden and Ryan was just too closed-off to notice.
The day they're coming back from motherfucking Greenland - it was like fucking freezing there, even though the word green is in their stupid name - Jon gets a text from all his famous friends. Jon's best friend is the lead guitarist from Empires and stuff, and he also knows The Academy Is….
William's got extra tickets because his family totally bailed on their hometown show, apparently. If it was anything else, Ryan would just say 'no,' but it's freaking TAI, so he is so there. Ryan can appreciate good music, okay.
They have enough time as they land to make it back to their apartments, change into something not laced with the smell of airplane, and rush over to the concert. They make it fine, and they stand in the crowd, full of anticipation.
Jon's going on about how William was saying they've got some new guy opening up for them, some guy who Patrick Stump had picked up in Texas or something. William hadn't mentioned a name, just that he was a marvelous guy and - Jon paraphrases, obviously - a mix between, like, chill and bubbly and a fucking beast at music.
The stage starts off blackened as piano music floats out at them. The jaunty melody slowly merges into something slower and richer; something that Ryan knows is unforgettable. The piano player starts to sing,
"Fall into the moment, and see how far you drop before you hit rock bottom.
No parachute, you hit the pavement running,
Wet and cold, tick of the clock, a blink of the eye,
Things happen, but you can't figure out why.
Why you? But, like your mother says,
If it's meant to be, darling…"